#repair large tear in leather car seat

[perfectlynervousenemy]

How To Repair Large Tear In Leather Car Seat

There is no denying that car seats bear the most abuses due to many factors like the infant car seat, your pet’s nails, dryness in the air in your car, keeping your car in direct sunlight, etc. than dent and damage the fabric in no time. And no one wants their car interior to get ruined. Whatever the reason may be we know you are curious about how to repair large tears in leather car seats to avoid embarrassment without spending?

 We have come up with practical solutions for riders bamboozled keeping up with the car seat rules and are often charged for overruling the safety norms.

 With the increasing number of car mishaps, car seat safety has become a priority. Driving while sitting on an ergonomic car seat layered with a premium seat cover makes you a confident rider and ensures safe travel for all. In order to keep your car interior sparkling just like new, we have come up with some steps that will help you repair the large tear you have got in your leather car seat.

Let’s have a look at it in detail.  

 Step by Step Process To Repair Large Tear In Leather Car Seats

 Tear and cracks on car seats are common but on a swanky leather seat? Heart aching isn't it? But before you consider replacing the upholstery, fix it on your own without messing with the leather sheen. We will guide you on how to fix leather seats step by step.

 ●        To repair leather car seats, the best is to get a repair kit in first place manufactured by the car brand itself. If currently unavailable suit yourself with any repair kit that matches your car upholstery.

●        Now grab a soft cloth to remove the dirt, grime, and dust around the repairing area. To do this quick and easy with a clean rag, dip the rag in a bowl of mild detergent and rub over the surface like scrubbing. This process will clean the area without hurting the leather.

 Pro tip: You can also use a regular bottle of leather cleaner for the purpose and wait till dry before proceeding to the next step during your leather car seat repair.

 ●        Now trim the threads hanging out from the tear to even out the ragged edges. Once done, shrug the threads off the seat with a soft-bristled brush.

●        After this, get a tube of leather glue and a piece of clean cloth. Now, carefully slip the cloth inside the tear and apply glue on the tear edges to stick with the cloth. Wait for a while till dry.

●        Now it's time to use the leather filler tactically. To do this you just need the filler tub and a palette knife. Scrape out some filler with the knife and spread it layer after layer on the visible gap between the tear.

 Here is a catch while applying filler to repair your leather car seat. You must dry it completely before putting on the next and continue until the filling slightly overlaps the tear.

 ●        When the filling dries, rub it with sandpaper to even it with the surrounding leather and then clean the area with a damp cloth.

●        Now apply the leather colorant with a clean cloth to add multiple layers or as needed until it perfectly matches the original seat color. And then seal it with a leather sealant and wait till dry.

●        To ensure that your car seat repair lasts longer, cover it with a matching piece of a leather patch and glue it on the crack. Now sum it up by wiping the area with a diluted mix of matching liquid leather and water to repair leather car seats with a professional touch.

 Conclusion

 How to fix leather car seats without professional aid is every rider's concern who doesn't want to spend a bomb only for an accidental tear on the seat. We understand your concern and hence have tried to meet all your queries related to repairing a leather car seat and sharing interesting facts about infant car seats.

 Car seat repair and upkeeping are of prime importance for a lasting impression and ensuring utmost safety for yourself and your co-riders especially babies. So before hitting the street, make sure the car seats are functional to help you get away with traffic regulations.

[joideka]

A Glint of Azure

Concept Idea for a story I want to write one day!

---

The day was rather dark and gloomy. The sun had taken upon itself to hide among the thick clouds of midsummer, though these roiled with ill-temper.

Thunderstorms were not uncommon, your supervisor had said, strapping on a belt with a pistol holster on it. Adjusting it to his comfort, he grabbed a matching one and tossed it to you.

You caught it, the leather feeling rough to your fingers. Much nicer than the woven fabric of army-grade belts and straps, but it felt loose and soft, easy to tear. The sag was telling when the matching gun fit in place, and a weary sigh escaped your lips.

Not like the military at all...

You tugged a worn jacket over your arms, the wool interior pleasantly scratchy. A faded patch on the side read Miller in white letters. The manufacturer? Or perhaps the previous owner.

It escaped you why such a nice piece of clothing might be abandoned to the likes of this place.

The Ranger barn was a clash of work sheds and dormitories. The first floor housed the vehicles, tools, repair benches, and small kitchenette that seemingly had an endless supply of coffee. The second floor was old timbers and plywood flooring, creaking under every step. At the far end, above the main entrance, a small balcony perched haphazardly, daring any foolish resident to step onto it. The cots that made up the dorm were scattered along the floor, large rolling curtains separating each other and providing some semblance of privacy.

You wrinkled your nose. Your supervisor stayed on the first floor in an enclosed room, the small shed sticking out the barn-like fungi growing off a tree. The bathroom too was in an off-shed of sorts, long and lanky.

Thankfully, everything was clean and orderly, and the barn wasn't that old. Though it was one of the first structures to have been built, the guardhouse opposite to the barn seemed much more imposing and darker, dead and lonely.

You had to count your blessings, however, after the situations that had led you here to this place.

"Ready?" Your supervisor beckoned to another, a tall African American. She nodded, hopping off the tailgate of the green and black Jeep and starting the engine. She then hopped to the back again, hoisting herself to sit on the tool box on the trunk, a hand resting on the machine gun mounted to the back.

You stared at the machine, memories resurfacing... But that was the past. This was now. You swung into the passenger's seat, gritting your teeth and wishing the vehicles had doors or at least straps.

The Jeep swayed as the driver got in. Doors already opened, he checked his console and shifted the gears, slowly maneuvering the car out of the barn and onto the gravel driveway to Ranger Gate 1.

The map of the complex flashed in your mind, and you wondered why the barn was set at the low point of the complex, on the flat part of land that separated the twenty-foot chain link fence from the scientific buildings. You supposed it was easier to drive around than up and down the twenty-foot mound that housed the rest of the complex, but it seemed easier to see whatever it was the fence was protecting your fellow humans from.

The gate in the chain link fence was made of steel bars and wooden planks, long and tall steel posts on the side of the gates. Due to the grey light, one could barely make out the silver strands of wire twisting from the posts into the fence. You stared at the cold metal, shivering as a slight breeze picked up.

There was a storm brewing.

The gate opened.

-------

For a place barred from knowledge, it sure was pretty. The Jeep had first passed through roiling fields, drooping stems of what must have been wheat sprinkled amongst the normal grasses of countryside. The forest she had seen from a distance in the plain came to the forefront, craggy oaks stretching their gnarled arms into the sky.

The knolls and furrows of the forest drew your eye, curiosity glimmering in your soul as you progressed into the forest, staring up at dusty green leaves of pine and oak, birch, and what must have been weary walnuts and elms forming rings of glades glimpsed in the distance. Old moss-covered rocks lined the road, the dirt and beaten down moss leading through the forest, though the open plain was always visible.

Your eyes could only peer into the depths of leaves and crackled bark.

"Eyes on the rations, soldier." You jerked, eyes darting back down the damp package at your feet.

Right.

You murmured an apology, tucking a strand of brown hair back.

"Up ahead," your supervisor pointed with a finger; you glanced up.

A large stretch of bare land split the forest, short grass slick with dew. The road did a roundabout here, cutting a swath of ground out from previous trips. A split from the track led off towards the mountain, but to the side, away from the main meadow, towards the east...

Shadows loomed, dark and forbidding, the ground coated in periwinkle and ivy, deer trails barely splitting the dense undergrowth. Large clusters of mistletoe and hanging ivy dangled from dead elms, adding to the air of mystery.

The Jeep stopped.

"We're here," came the grim voice of your supervisor.

Strange that you didn't know his name.

"He's usually here," came a sudden terse voice. Ah, your associate.

"Who is?"

"Our charge. You've been assigned to monitor and feed... one of our residents." You stopped halfway out of the vehicle, turning to him with a frustrated huff.

"And that resident just so happens to eat raw meat?" Your eyes narrowed.

"Yes." Your supervisor held your gaze. "You're smart, Y/N. Haven't you figured it out?"

"I'm not one to believe in rumors and gossip. I'm a soldier, concrete evidence is my foundation for belief."

"You would've been better prepared if you had listened to those rumors," your supervisor sighed. "In any case, we need to get him out here to get his food. Usually, he waits for us, but on days like these, he doesn't get as much sun as either of us would like."

The ranger in the trunk sighed. "You could say that again." She readjusted her weight. "In any case, when he comes out, watch for any... discrepancies shall we say? Like avoiding placing weight in a certain spot, scratches, et cetera. The vets got to take a look at him a bit anyway, but it would be good to check now."

"Vets?" You felt puzzled, nose crinkled in confusion. The scar at your lip suddenly itched, a sign of your rising worry. "Doesn't matter, where do I place-"

HIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssss

The loud noise, rattling along the eardrums but low and vibrating, echoed menacingly from the trees.

The ranger in the Jeep cursed, swiveling the gun towards the noise.

It didn't stop, progressively getting louder.

"Alright, so today is not a good day," your supervisor muttered. "But he could've sneaked up on us so-" he stilled as the noise suddenly swelled.

Soft crackling of twigs drew your head in the right direction, teal eyes peering into the gloomy forest.

"Well, say hello to Hunter," your companion muttered, as a monster entered the clearing.

You had heard of these creatures before, had read about them in articles found in government homes ransacked and taken over by your country's militia. You had seen blurry photos of winged beasts, landscape photos with bestial centaurs grazing, secretive photos of great dragons resting on mountain cliffs.

But a soft gasp still escaped your lips at the thing that slithered into the light.

It was a naga, a rare specimen of the monster kind. Though not wholly related to those who had emerged from Ebott, they still possessed the intricacy known as souls.

And that made them dangerous.

Nagas were a mix of snake and human if you remembered your mythos. But the thing protruding from the snake body was that of a skeleton, thick bones forming the classic ribs and spines of the humanoid frame.

The snake body was a deep azure, sky and midnight blue scales, a long stripe of pale and lemon yellow breaking up the body, giving you an idea of its length. If you had to guess, it was twenty, maybe thirty feet long, thick as a truck tire. Its hand could have held your head with room to spare, and it rose, tall, tall, tail weaving around it.

Threatening posture.

"Toss the meat out of the vehicle." The supervisor sounded calm, but his knuckles tightened on the wheel, his foot hovering over the gas.

The naga turned its skull, trying to track where you were.

A blindfold was strapped across its head, metal straps keeping it on, or else the thing wouldn't have tolerated its presence, from the way it jerked its head, hissing in seemingly irritation.

"But-"

"NOW!" he yelled, gunning the gas, your arm whiplashing out and sending the package of meat flying in the air, right as the naga charged.

There was an almighty smack as the meat collided with it, causing a SNARL of rage.

'RIGHT IN THE JAWBONE NEWBIE!!!" The ranger in the back shouted, words almost lost over the sound of the vehicle bouncing through the forest,

A startled whoop was your answer as the Jeep tore through down the road, kicking up rocks and weeds in its wake.

Stomach dropping, you realized you could still hear the hissing, low, but steadily growing higher.

"WOLSLEY!" The ranger back screamed, the Jeep swerving to the right as a blue streak lunged past the car.

The car axles screamed as they tried to keep the vehicle grounded, the supervisor throwing himself on the opposing side. Gravel flew into the air, stinging your eyes as the vehicle righted...

And sudden vertigo and force of a new direction slammed you out of the vehicle, sent to the ground tumbling, the breath knocked out of your lungs.

For a moment you lay there, splayed out, gasping. Then you rolled over, into the taller grass, down into the dark undergrowth, grasping your pistol and bringing it to bear.

The ivy and periwinkle welcomed you, leaves caressing your form as you slowly rolled your shoulders, feeling the stiffness of shocked muscles.

For an unknown reason, you felt confident that your comrades would be alright. The Jeep probably could go faster than the beast, but the naga had the advantage of dexterity and natural born speed, it seemed. However, you knew they would come back. Once they shook off the creature, they would find you again.

The gun triggered old memories- of falling debris, flashes of light, ceramics and glass slicing into your face, an especially large piece embedding into your jaw.

You winced, absentmindedly rolling your tongue over the damaged section.

The doctors said you were lucky to have only cut skin and not into your jaw, causing the thin scar to cross over your lips.

Family and friends said it gave you character. But you knew the truth. Hideous, your only worth in the battles you won and the victories and achievements you collected.

That’s what made other’s eyes see the scar as a medal, another achievement.

It made you remember every fallen comrade from the battles that could've been averted.

The heavy silence of the forest fell upon you. You sniffed the air; a repugnant smell of snake and musk filled the air. It seemed the naga wasn’t too far off then from regular physiology.

Something you could use to your advantage.

The silence was getting unbearable. You knew you were vulnerable in this place. You had a limited view of your surroundings, and you’d rather be somewhere you could watch your back.

You carefully wriggled onto the road, awkwardly shambling over to the edge of the plain, pacing your back against a rock. A ping echoed softly in your ear.

Your headpiece, thankfully, had not been dislodged with your fall.

Fingers brushed the small device; a small murmur of acknowledgment fell from your lips as your companions hurriedly ensured your wellbeing.

The urgency was clear. Once he had gotten far enough from the territory of the naga, it had stopped, turning back.

"He's pissed," your supervisor said, a touch of worry in his voice. "Got your tranquilizers?"

"Yeah.”

"Good. Head for the knoll about three points west of your locations, with the yellow patch of wheat. With any luck, Blue heard the commotion and is on his way to investigate."

At this point, you didn't give a damn about this Blue character. You had been given an order. You were going to follow that order.

You had made it about halfway to the knoll when you tripped, stumbling down and landing on your face. Cursing, your eyes tracked back the way you came, trying to see what caused the incident.

And an azure tail disappeared into the underbrush and the beast arose.

You could now see the ivory white scarred by deeper scratches, the cracked ribs, the thick tail winding around you.

Closer up, you really understood the fear in your fellow comrades, why this place was harbored secretively. People must have died here. There was no explaining the predatory posture it carried in the way the claws slammed into your arms, mouth open and fangs protruding.

Smelling you.

It pinned your frozen form, the giant skeletal part of the naga lowering down towards you.

So, this was how you were going to die.

You stared, impassive. You had faced death before. You had stared your enemies in the eye as they had leveled guns at you, hefted knives, or held the rope in their hands.

Brief moments from your life flashed, your recruitment into the army, the concerned understanding from your veteran dad, his eyes filled with tears as he took you in with your uniform, silently watching you leave.

You didn’t see him for another three years, till your aunt called and begged you to come home. Already being considered for leave due to your face injury and trauma from the failed rescue a month prior, you had flown home.

At least you could thank some deity out there for letting you say goodbye to your dad.

You didn’t cry during the funeral. You never cried, not even when your mom passed. You remember sinking to the floor, shivering...

Service once again for another two years, before leaving- not of your own will. The military was all you had. But you were not proper material for an officer, nor could they afford to keep the old dogs with the new yearlings who could learn new tricks.

Few places offered veterans rewarding and true jobs.

You thought this place was going to be one of those jobs, tasking, but rewarding.

Maybe a tear had come to your eye as you stared at your empty apartment, kissed your aunt goodbye.

But you never cried.

You felt like crying now. Your life seemed to have been a waste, unimportant in the grand scheme of things yet to come… yet,

You weren't going to let the creature sense your fear... But you did close your eyes.

Only to feel a brush over your cheek, a huff of air tickling your ear as a slight sniffing noise came from the beast.

Right eye cracked open, to see the naga hovering you, a blue tongue flicking in and out.

Your body tensed as it leaned closer, a low rumbling growl coming out of its maw as it started (figuratively) into your eyes.

A low crooning noise rumbled from the chest of the beast, shaking the earth you were on. It leaned forward, tucking its massive head between your ear and neck, breathing heavily.

You released a shaky breath, body heaving as you tried to move, jerking your arms, only for the grip to tighten, a frightened whimper escaping your lips.

The naga startled back, tilting its skull inquisitively. It almost seemed… concerned, from the way it lifted its hands from your arms, tucking them shyly behind its back plates.

For a moment you stared at each other.

You felt confused.

Why wasn’t it attacking?

The abrasive honk of the Jeep made the monster jerk up, immediately baring its teeth and snarling.

There was a shout as a small whistling noise alerted you to the arrival of three tranquilizers dart stinging into the naga's tail, a screech of surprise triggering you to your flight reaction. With a quick roll to the side, you jumped up and hurtled over the tail of the naga as it twisted to find you again.

Your legs pounded the earth as you fled the scene, a loud penetrating hissing following you as the naga strained to follow you;

And it collapsed to the ground, the effect of the tranquilizers immediate.

With a relieved sigh, you hoisted yourself into the Jeep as your supervisor directed the vehicle away from the scene, leaving the limp naga behind.

-------

Tip:

Make sure to always close and lock the gate before exiting or entering the complex to keep the natural wildlife out

[wicked-mind]

The King and Queen: Chapter two

Summary: Y/N is the Queen of Guns and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the King of New York City. She wants him as a buyer, but Bucky wants her to be his queen. After all, every King needs a Queen.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: +18 only- Minors exit now, AU, Mafia!Bucky, Dark!Bucky, sexual tension, smut- unprotected sex, murder, swearing, mentions of domestic violence and surgery.

Note: This series is about to take a lot of twists and turns (:<

Series Masterlist

Total Masterlist

Chapter two- You’re my Queen

“I want to know everything about Y/N.”

Bucky demanded when he got home from the night at the club. He stood in his office with his close circle. He couldn’t get Y/N off his mind. He wanted her, he needed her. She was intoxicating to him. Y/N was the woman Bucky needed at his side and in his bed. 

Tony nodded to Bucky, standing a little further back in the room. He was all about the technology and security when it came to Bucky’s business. He promptly left the room to go dig up everything on Y/N he could. 

It didn’t take long for Tony to dig up all the dirt on Y/N and she had quite the history. He came back into Bucky’s office where everybody had cleared out except for Bucky and Steve who were waiting for information. Tony took a seat on the opposite side of Bucky’s desk, placing a large stack of papers on his desk, “That’s everything.” He said.

Steve grabbed the few of papers, scanning through them, “How have we never heard of her before?” He questioned, his eyes flickering to Tony before back to the papers in hand. As he finished reading them, he passed them to Bucky to look over, “Everywhere she goes, death seems to follow. She’s a big player.”

Bucky looked at the papers with a small smile at the pictures that had come up. Some were mug shots of Y/N smiling with a darkness in her eyes that he admired. She had been in and out of juvie in her teen years for arson and illegal firearms and arrested for charges that were eventually dropped. He flicked the pages, seeing her in a white dress with a man standing next to her. The image made him frown and his jaw clench, “She was married?” He questioned through his teeth, tearing the page Steve was reading away from him.

“Yeah, she was married.” Steve said, “Emphasis on the was. She killed him but it wasn’t charged due to it being self defense.” His brow furrowed as he looked at the paper, it was a medical report for Y/N from the night she had killed her husband. The pictures in the medical report showed Y/N beat up and unconscious in an ICU, “His name was Johann Schmidt. He was a big player when it came to guns, shipping out of Germany.”

Tony nodded, “From what I could find, it looks like Schmidt and Y/N had an arranged marriage to create a larger gun business between their families. When Y/N didn’t back off from guns and let him take control, he did that to her.” He said as he gestured his hand to the paper in Steve’s hands.

Bucky stood, reaching over his desk and took the medical reports from Steve’s hand, scanning them over, “Sternal fractures as well as four adjacent rib fractures that coincide with at least two CPR attempts upon arrival of paramedics… Broken orbital bone with superficial lacerations to the face and bruising to the abdomen…” He read out-loud, “Gun shot wound to the chest, bullet grazed left ventricle. Coded on table during surgery to repair the ventricle and remove the bullet. Patient was able to be resuscitated during surgery and is expected to make full recovery…” He paused as he studied the picture of Y/N then placed the medical report down and grabbing the police report from the incident, “Victim states she got in a fight with her husband. He punched and kicked her then held her underwater in the bathtub until she was unconscious. When she awoke, her husband was performing CPR. Victim states he then punched her a few more times before holding her down in the water again. Her spouse again resuscitated her using CPR and argued with her before standing and shooting her in the chest. Victim remembers pulling another gun that was hidden around his ankle and firing it at her husband before calling 911. Paramedics declared Schmidt dead at the scene. Victim denies wanting to talk about the argument which lead to the incident after regaining consciousness at the hospital.” Bucky’s frowned deepened as he read the report alive. If Schmidt wasn’t dead, Bucky would have done everything in his power to find and kill him for Y/N.

Steve had picked up more pieces of paper as he listed to Bucky read the medical and police report, “She’s definitely a fighter.” He said softly, “She had been charged for 23 counts of battery and assault but all charges were dropped within days of the police reports. Oh, and she remarried five years ago, ratted on her husband to the DEA causing him to get 56 years in prison for gun running, and then divorced him the moment he started serving his sentence. He was then killed his second day serving his sentence in prison.” Steve was already holding the paper out to Bucky so it didn’t have to get ripped away again, which it did, “You sure you want to get in bed with this woman? Y/N killed one husband then ratted on the other and got him thrown in jail and probably put the hit out on him. What if she’s playing us?”

Bucky was looking over the paper he had snatched from Steve’s hand, listening as his right hand spoke. He put the paper down and leaned his fists on his desk, a small grin coming across his lips, “Then I’ll just have to be the better player.” He said simply, his eyes darkening, “Y/N will be my Queen. She craves power and I can give her everything.”

The next day, Bucky laid in bed. It was about four in the afternoon and he was getting some much needed sleep after the opening of his club and reading through all of Y/N’s files. He had found himself some platinum blonde woman in the early morning hours who one of his men had brought back and took her to his room. He had fucked her senseless but he wasn’t fulfilled, he was wishing it was Y/N beneath him the whole time. He pictured how she would look, even groaning out Y/N’s name a few times during the act.

Y/N looked up at Bucky’s large mansion as she approached the large double doors. She had been here before with Steve when Bucky was out doing business and knew the layout from snooping around. She knew exactly where to find the King. Y/N was wearing a short navy blue dress with a black leather vest over it and black heels. She was followed by a shorter red head. “Natasha, keep Stevie blue eyes distracted, I have some things to sort out with the King. Everything going good?” Y/N asked looking over at the red head as they walked up the steps to the door.

The red head named Natasha nodded, “Yup, everything is all lined up. Clint and Scott will keep them in the car until you’re ready.” She responded. Natasha was Y/N’s second in command. A skilled assassin that Y/N had met and brought to work for her years ago to help build her empire.

“Good.” Y/N said as she rang the doorbell. The door opened a few moments later with Steve looking at the two. Y/N smiled, stepping forward past him into the home, “Hiya, pretty boy. Meet Natasha.” She said nodding towards the red head who was close behind her. 

Natasha smiled at Steve, following Y/N in immediately. As soon as Steve shut the door, Natasha pushed him up against it and rubbed her leg up Steve’s while Y/N slipped away up the stairs.

Y/N walked down the hallways, knowing exactly where she was headed. She opens the room to Bucky’s door, tilting her head as she saw him sleeping naked beneath a thin gold sheet. Then her eyes rested on the blonde next to him. She walks over, grabbing the blonde by the hair until she was out of the bed staring wide eyed at her, “Well aren’t you a pretty thing.” Y/N said to the woman, “Let’s fix that a bit.” She said and slammed the woman head first into the bedside table.

“Oh my god! Who are you?” The blonde whimpered as she covered her now broken nose, blood slipping between her fingers.

Y/N smiled at the woman, “I’m the Queen. Now get out before I ruin the rest of your face.” She demanded, her eyes darkening at the threat. Y/N watched the woman run out of the room, shutting the door behind her before looking to Bucky who was now awake watching her with a grin plastered on his lips.

Bucky had awoken by the loud slam when Y/N had slammed the woman’s face into the bedside table, watching the ordeal unfold with an eyebrow raised and a grin on his lips. Was Y/N jealous of the blonde being in his bed? Bucky ran his eyes up and down Y/N’s figure, noticing a scar peaking out from between her breasts but hidden by the rest her dress. He was licking his lips as his gaze floated down her figure, fixating at the short hem of the dark dress on her thighs. He moved his hands to rest behind his head, waiting until the woman had left the room before speaking to Y/N, “Afternoon, doll. What do I owe the pleasure?” 

Y/N smiled down at him, climbing onto the bed and straddling his chest. She slowly ran her fingers along his perfect figure, “Well, you see James, I called Stevie blue eyes earlier and he said he couldn’t be my plaything anymore. King’s orders.” She said down to him. Y/N couldn’t deny the way Bucky made her feel. He sent ripples of warmth up her body, especially seeing him below her as she straddled his chest. And that chest… yum. He was tanned and muscular, chiseled to perfection, “And if you take away my toys, I break yours.” 

Bucky’s grin widened as she moved onto his bare chest. He could feel her bare thighs beneath her dress and the lace of her underwear against his skin. Y/N was hot, demanded his attention as only a queen could. He moves his hands from behind his head to rest on her knees, slowly sneaking their way up her dress. Bucky could feel a gun on her upper thigh hidden beneath her dress but allowed his hands to slip past it until they rested on her waist, gripping at the straps of the panties. He licks his lips at the view of her on top of him. The only way this could be better is if Y/N was naked and bouncing on top of him.

Y/N could see the lust growing in Bucky’s eyes which made her smirk down at him, “And my second in command set up a system to alert me when anybody was digging into my life. And it seems that you wanted to know more about me but didn’t bother to ask.” She said softly, leaning down and brushing her lips along his bare shoulder, leaving small kisses on his warm skin.

Bucky clenched his jaw at her kisses on his shoulder. She was teasing him, intoxicating him with ever touch. He could feel himself growing hard beneath the thin sheet, “First, call me Bucky. And second, you didn’t exactly give me a way to contact you, darlin, otherwise I would’ve asked.” He chuckles lustfully. He wanted to rip Y/N’s clothes off and take her right then, but as if she knew his plan, she slipped off his chest still smiling at him as she stood. He frowned a little at her.

Y/N stood at his bedside, running her eyes along his body and tilting her head with a triumphant grin as she noticed the sheet tenting from his hard cock, “Get dressed. I got you a present outside that I think you’ll like. We can get back to this after.” She instructed with a grin, turning and leaving him alone in the room. As much as Y/N wanted Bucky, she loved the way he looked when she teased him. She walked down the stairs, tilting her head as she saw Natasha on Steve’s lap giggling, “C’mon Nat. We gotta unload the car.” She said with a smile and turning towards the front door. Natasha slid off of Steve’s lap, following quickly. 

Bucky groaned in frustration. He wanted Y/N. Every cell in his body told him to rip off her clothes and claim her as his. He wanted to hold her down on his bed and show her how powerful he was. He wanted to hear her scream his name as he devoured her. Bucky pulled himself out of bed and quickly puts on some clothes before walking out of his room and down the stairs. He looked overs at Steve, noticing small red lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt, “I thought I told you to stay away from her.” He growled, thinking the stains came from Y/N

Steve held his hands up, “Y/N brought a friend.” He informed, not wanting to be on Bucky’s bad side, “They went outside.” He said as he stood, walking over to the front door and opening it for Bucky.

Bucky’s jealousy faded away as he was informed the lipstick wasn’t from Y/N. He walks out the door that was held open to be met with the sight of Y/N, her redheaded friend, and two large males dressed in all black that he assumed were Y/N’s bodyguards. In front of them were three people with hoods on their heads, hands bound behind their backs, “What’s this, Y/N?” He asks her, a small grin appearing on his lips from curiosity.

Y/N smiled at him, “My present to you. As I told you before, I have been watching you for a while. I know your biggest competition is the organization known as Hydra ran by Baron Zemo.” She said, walking to the hooded figures and pulling the hoods of off them one by one, revealing three of Zemo’s men. One being Zemo’s right hand, “When I took over Rumlow’s business, I found out that you weren’t the only one he was selling his guns too. Did you know he was giving the majority to Zemo? Trying to help him take over your territory?”

Bucky walked closer to the men on their knees, listening to the words Y/N said. He was a little shocked at the information that Rumlow was double crossing him, he hadn’t expected that. He looked down at the faces of the men before returning his eyes to Y/N, smiling a little at her present. She was one step ahead and could take care of herself. He couldn’t help but feel himself be more attracted to Y/N at this power play. She truly was a queen, and here she was, presenting a gift for her king.

Y/N walked around from behind the captive men to stand by Bucky, looking down at them on their knees in front of her. She leans down in front of one of them, a smile on her lips, “I know you know who Mr. Barnes is. But do you know who I am?” She asks.

The man glared up at Bucky for a moment before looking to Y/N, “Are you his whore?” He spat out at her, looking her up and down with a small lick of his lips. 

Bucky’s face twisted with anger at the mans words towards Y/N, pulling the man to his feet and landing hard blows with his fist to the man’s face. Bucky’s rings cut through flesh like knives, leaving the man a bloody mess on the ground when he was finished.

Y/N chuckles at Bucky’s anger, licking her lips as she watched him beat the man down. It made goosebumps go up her spine at how he inserted himself into a power position to protect her. It made her want him, but she had business to do first. She walks to the next man in the line, tilting her head. She knew this was Zemo’s right hand man, “Do you know who I am?” She asks him, the sinister smile staying on her lips.

The man also glared at her, staying silent for a moment before speaking, “Hail Hydra.” He said to her before spiting in her face.

Y/N’s smile disappeared as she lifted a hand to wipe the spit from her cheek. She could see from the corner of her eyes Bucky moving towards the man to beat the shit out of him. But she was closer and quicker. She pulls the gun out of the holster from under her dress, firing one bullet between the man’s eyes, “So hard to find good help these days.” She mutters over to Bucky who stood there a little shocked that she had just killed him, but she could see Bucky eyeing her even more know, once again undressing her with his eyes. Y/N licks her lips at him before stepping in front of the last man, resting the barrel of the gun on his forehead, “Okay, sweetness, right answer only. Do you know who I am?” She asks for the third time, her eyes were dark with anger. She was losing her patience with these men.

The third man was younger, he looked at the other two men, one dead and one beaten to a pulp before looking to Y/N, nodding slowly with wide eyes, “I do, I do. You are Y/N. You killed Brock Rumlow..” Y/N smiles and pulls the gun back from his head, placing it back in the holster hidden under her dress, “Oh good, you’ve heard of me. Then you know I’m the one who has taken over Rumlow’s gun business. And from my understanding, he was leaning towards Hydra’s side when it came to the war Zemo and Barnes are having concerning territory.” She said with the smile never leaving her lips, “Now, I will not be selling guns to Zemo. I know he isn't in the country currently so you can tell him that yourself when he gets back. And you can also tell him to shrink back his territory. Mr. Barnes will be expanding his business into the current Hydra territories as he has been trying to do. If there is any backlash, Barnes and I will exterminate you. Am I clear?” 

The young man nodded frantically, “Yes, understood. I will tell Zemo, I swear.” He stutters out.

Y/N smiled down at him, “Perfect.” She looks over to Natasha and her two body guards, “Go drop him off and clean up this mess.” She ordered before turning to Bucky with a smile. She walks towards him, placing her hands on his chest and letting them roam up to rest around the back of his neck, “Good present, huh?” 

Bucky grins down at her as she snaked her arms around the back of his neck, gripping her waist between his large hands, “Mhm…” He hums out as he lowers his head to her neck, biting softly at her skin. He would be lying if he said the power play she had just made didn’t turn him on. Y/N was powerful and was on his side. Now he just needed to be between her legs, claiming her as his queen. He looks over at Steve, “Help them clean this mess up.” He ordered out harshly, before looking back to Y/N, “I’m going to claim my queen.” He grinned down at her, lust in his eyes. He parts his lips, allowing his tongue to run over his lips again at the sight of her. Bucky couldn’t wait anymore, he needed Y/N. He wanted to slam himself straight into her core. He easily picked Y/N up, throwing her over his shoulder and making his way back into his home. He carried her up the stairs, opening the door to his bedroom with one hand and shutting it behind him with his foot. He puts Y/N down on his bed, climbing on top of her. He grabs at her wrists, pinning them down on the sides of her head, “Enough teasing.” He growled as his lips kissed her collar bone. He releases his grip on her wrists, moving his weight off of her as he started pulling off his pants, “Take it off before I rip it off.” He demanded, eyeing her dress.

Y/N grins up at Bucky as she laid beneath him on his bed. She knew the play with the Hydra pawns would get him going while also showing how committed she was to their business relationship. But Y/N wanted more than just a business relationship, she wanted the king. She wanted power and Bucky was the most powerful man around. Y/N licks her lips at his demand for her to undress. She happily stripped the fabric from her body, leaving her in only her black lace panties and kicked off her heels to the floor. Y/N bit her lip as she watched Bucky take off his shoes, pulling off his pants and shirt off. She lifted her leg to run her foot up the middle of his legs slowly.

Bucky grins crookedly down at Y/N as he saw her bare breasts as well as the long surgical scar between them, knowing it was the mark of a fighter and survivor. Her body was perfection and all his. He quickly removed his boxers, his large, hard, thick cock slapping up against his stomach after it was freed from the fabric. He licks his lips, grabbing at her underwear and ripping it off in one quick tear. He admired her body for a moment more before climbing back on top of Y/N, pressing his face into her neck and nipping at her skin, “You’re mine.” He said lowly, possessively.

Y/N smiled at the sight of his bare body. She knew he could pleasure her in the ways she needed. She wiggles her hips slightly from under his large frame, already dripping wet since she had straddled him earlier. She snakes one hand down to grip his cock, positioning the tip at her wet entrance. Y/N needed him. She runs her other hand up through his hair, gripping the brown locks between her fingers, “Prove it.” She challenged, wrapping her legs up and around his waist.

Bucky grins into the skin of Y/N’s neck at her words, groaning slightly as he could feel her slick coat his tip. He was used to mindless whores just melting beneath him, doing whatever he wanted. But with Y/N, he could feel his power being matched. They were playing with each other, feeling each other out literally and figuratively. He pulls his head back from being nuzzled in her neck, wanting to see the look on her face when he pushed inside of her. With one quick thrust, he pushed himself into her core, groaning at Y/N’s tight walls squeezing around his cock. Bucky watched as Y/N’s face twisted into pleasure, tilting her head back and a beautiful moan rolling from her lips. He pulled himself back out, before slamming his hips once again forward.

Y/N moaned as Bucky thrust in and out of her forcefully, not needing to fake her moans as she did with Steve. He filled her perfectly like they were made for each other. Her legs tightened around Bucky’s waist, wanting him to stay inside of her. He was hitting all the right spots in her body, making warm tingles pulse through her body with every thrust. 

Bucky quickened his pace at her moans. God, she was beautiful beneath him. Everything about her was beautiful. The way she tilted her head back in pleasure, the sweet moans that passed her lips, the way she squeezed his waist with her legs. It made him wild. He gripped his hand around her throat, staring down at her face that was twisted with pleasure. He quickened his thrusts, slamming deep into her which made small groans fall from his own lips, “Say I’m your king. Say it!” He growled down at her.

Y/N bit her lip as her body bounced slightly at his thrusts, moaning with each time he slid deeper into her core, hitting her spot. She met his eyes as he spoke, seeing them darken in a possessive fashion. She kept her fingers curled in his hair, pulling slightly at the dark strands, “You’re my king.” She breathes out between moans, her body starting to shake slightly as she was getting close to climax.

Bucky grins at her words, watching Y/N’s body shake beneath him. He leans his face back down to hers, smashing his lips against her and forcing his tongue into her mouth as he kept a quick pace thrusting into her. He bit her bottom lip as he ended the kiss, moving his lips to her ear, “You’re all mine. Anybody else ever touches you, they’re fucking dead.” He growls into her ear, biting down on her earlobe, “You’re my queen.” He moves his hands to grab her legs, forcing them away from his waist and prying them up to rest on his shoulders so he could deeper thrust into Y/N’s core, wanting to fill every inch of her, “Come for me.” He demanded into her ear.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut when he repositioned her legs, feeling him deeper inside of her, constantly hitting that sweet spot with each thrust. Her stomach was twisting in pleasure as waves that felt like fire ran over her body, causing her to whimper and moan underneath his large body. He was perfect for her and she knew he could give her the world. She couldn’t hold her orgasm back any longer, releasing herself all over his cock as he thrust in and out of her with a loud moan that echoed through his bedroom.

Bucky moved his kisses and bites down to the nape of her neck, grinning against her skin when he felt her release her juices around him. He pushed himself as deep into her as he could, releasing his load as deep into her as he could. He stayed inside her for a moment, continuing to scrape his teeth across her skin, leaving small bruises along the way. He loved the way her walls clenched around him as she orgasmed. Y/N was the best Bucky had ever had and was all he would ever need. He pulled out of her and stepped back, admiring her body again. Or should he say his body. He had claimed her, and she was his now. Bucky grabbed his shirt off the floor, cleaning both of them up before throwing it into a hamper in the corner of the room. Bucky ran his eyes over Y/N’s body again as he walked towards her, his eyes lingering along her figure. The way her fingers gripped into his sheets slightly from the pleasure they both just endured, watching him with fulfilled eyes made him smirk. He crawled back on top of her, kissing up her body until he found her lips with his, kissing her deeply as he stroked her hair, “I mean it, Y/N,” He whispers against her lips, “I’ll give you everything, anything. You’re my queen.”

____________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @hommoturttle​

[lycanthrop-ee]

Ghosting - Empty House

A/N: !!!!! It’s here! I’m so, so pumped for this- welcome to the Empty House AU! This is the first piece of content I’m publishing and it’s a one-shot from a bigger universe, but it’s also absolutely a stand-alone fic. It’s a self-indulgent, analogical-centric human AU that’s has been floating around my hollow skull for months now, so there’s a lot of doodles backed up if any of yall would like to see that ;) There will be an AU taglist, but I also have an individual writing taglist!

Synopsis: Logan has finally moved out of his childhood home into a family-sized house where he plans to finish college online. His simple plans are complicated when a strange, sad-looking boy starts showing up outside...

Word count: 4,306

Ships: Endgame romantic Analogical

CW: (spoilers) Pre-plot major character death, swearing, anxiety attack, very mildly implied previous parental abuse, be safe kiddos and ask to tag!

The first time Logan saw the boy was the day he moved in. 

The empty house had stood hollowly beside its driveway, Logan feeling small without his siblings or parents or any of his rarely acquired friends by his side. He wasn’t a sociable person, but he’d always been surrounded by noise at home, and lots of it… he’d never been in a house as still as the one he stepped into that day. The dark wooden floors were cleanly swept, except for the corners and trimmings which had little fields of grey dust dotting the deep brown. The refrigerator made a hungry humming noise, protesting its suddenly empty shelves- Logan knew a family of four had lived there before, and that they’d given him a pretty hefty discount on the house. That’s all he knew.

The floor in the entrance hall creaked underfoot, and the walls seemed to turn away as they saw him- not who they’d been expecting, not worth their attention. That was fair. 

The house had three bedrooms and two floors- altogether a strange layout. Two of the bedrooms were downstairs, situated in a small hallway off the kitchen, and one was tucked into a little corner upstairs, where the only other rooms consisted of a bathroom and a large, carpeted playroom that was mostly empty now. Logan figured it would have been a favorite of the kids when they were smaller, but now the only furniture was a faux leather couch and a television, as well as a couple of out-of-place armchairs that had never gotten much human use from the look of their fur-covered seats.

With just him taking up the whole house, he hardly saw the point in using the upstairs bedroom. The house felt big already- rationally, it would be better to localize downstairs. All he really needed was his room, the kitchen, and the little living room next to the entrance. That was enough for him- in fact, even that was too silent. He missed the screams of his brothers as affectionately as anyone could- which honestly varied day to day. 

Today, he was disproportionately affectionate. 

It paired well with the fear.

Logan was just about ready to start tearing himself apart over the family members he’d left behind- the only ones that mattered- when the boy caught his eye.

The day had been gray and dreary, the trees heavy with the prospect of rain and the air cool enough to promise it, but it had only started drizzling in the few minutes since Logan had been inside. The sky had seemed to darken remarkably quickly, especially strange without the presence of thunder or even heavy rain, and in the middle of it all was a lanky figure who looked for all the world like a member of the fae.

He stood at the side of the road, looking in the house’s general direction- in Logan’s general direction, although he was sure the other wouldn’t be able to see through his windows. His face would’ve been hidden by the dark hair poking out from under his hood were he not so painfully pale, and his brown irises were visible to Logan only because of the piercing contrast of his skin. 

His jacket was oversized, but his beanpole frame managed to show through regardless. The rainwater gradually weighed it down until the boy looked almost a skeleton, Logan frozen watching him for what could have been minutes- and then the frame heaved in a breath and ambled stiffly away. 

Obviously Logan’s first worries had to do with an unhinged white male teenager breaking into his new house- the one he had full responsibility for and few precious savings to repair. It was irrational, he knew, but his second thought was that the boy hadn’t looked capable of any harm- or really of much at all. He looked weighed down, depressed, and Logan was sure that it wasn’t just the water soaking his sweatshirt. The boy had looked sad. 

And he continued to. Frighteningly often, the teenager appeared outside Logan’s house. Each time he looked quite the same: above average height but considerably shorter than Logan himself, skinny, and almost other-worldly in his strange mish-mash of dark eyes and pearly flesh. While Logan knew that his first sight of the boy had been strange in the sudden change of weather, he could- and completely intended to- count it as a coincidence of Florida’s strange climate.  

He settled into a sort of pattern, although the boy didn’t seem to follow one. Each time he saw the figure outside his house, he would take a break from his endless work. He’d make himself some tea, sit in the window, and wait for the boy to leave. This way, he told himself, if he tried anything, Logan would be there to intercept him. He chose not to think about the possibility of it happening at night or while he was away, and he kept far away from the crime shows he’d occasionally enjoyed in the past. This way, too, he could get a good look at his visitor each time. It was almost as though he was keeping tabs on him, and at the tail end of his fear came a strange protectiveness. 

It was after about a month of this- Logan looking for job applications and living off of his savings, edgewise- that Logan pulled into his driveway at one of the key moments of his life. The boy stood unsteadily at the side of the road, sweatshirt ever-present even in the heat. Logan got out of his car carefully, his heart in his throat- though, really, did any part of him think the boy capable of much at this point? 

He’d have expected the kid to run as soon as he’d pulled in, but when Logan looked him over he saw the boy studying him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It struck Logan anew in their close proximity how thin he was.

Almost thoughtlessly, he started across the lawn towards the boy. He had to remind himself to uphold formalities- no matter how many times they’d stared at each other across the way, they’d never once spoken. He didn’t know this kid, not really- and now it occurred to him that the boy was more than a kid. He couldn’t be much younger than himself. Logan halted a few respectful steps from the boy, who eyed him strangely.

Close up… he looked, somehow, the same as he did from across the lawn. His features were simple, small mouth and nose easy to overlook for his huge, shadowed eyes. He really did remind one of a fairytale, or even- perhaps more accurately- a Tim Burton. 

Logan opened his mouth to speak, but paused for a moment. They watched each other.

“Would you like to come in for tea?” He finally inquired, the words escaping him overly familiar. The boy raised his eyebrows almost undetectably, seeming confused, and Logan caught himself almost leaning forward in anticipation of the other’s first words to him.

“You’re not Patton,” the boy said, voice just above a murmur and hoarse. Logan hesitated, confused, and studied the expression that would’ve been bored were it not for the slight tremble in his lips and a hint of surprise- Logan supposed neither of them had planned what had escaped their mouths. He reached up with a thin arm and brushed the back of his hand gently across his eyes. A spark of something strange flickered in Logan’s chest- this man was possibly not all there. He wracked his brain for labels- depression? Mild psychosis? Dissociation?

Either way, this was not someone he should invite into his house without more information- but as that regretfully occurred to him, the first drops of afternoon rain hit the tip of his noise. He wondered if the boy would stand out here after Logan went outside, and if so, for how long. 

“No, I’m not,” he found himself saying. “My name is Logan. It is raining- would you like to come in?”

He was exceedingly aware of the boy’s breathing as they stepped out of the rain, something that would normally drive him insane- somehow he didn’t mind this time. His presence was almost calming after weeks of bringing a break from Logan’s ceaseless work. It assured him that the ghostly pale man was real, which was never a problem he thought he’d be debating... but here was this skeleton-thin, strange-mannered man entering his house as though he’d been there a million times before.

He carefully slid his shoes off, paying close attention to the floor- and no attention to Logan. 

“I’ll make tea,” the latter found himself mumbling. “Do you want to come into the kitchen?”

“I’m gonna go upstairs,” the boy said. Logan blinked.

“I- you… this is my house?” He stuttered, trying to be assertive- surely that crossed a line? He’d never seen this kid before a month ago- but there he went, lugging himself up the stairs like he belonged there. O-kay. 

Logan backed into the drafty kitchen to put the kettle on.

Time to listen to his voice of reason, he decided. Clearly this boy had been in the house before- hopefully before Logan had moved in- and knew his way around. And clearly his mental state had some connection to the house- whether positive or negative, Logan couldn’t yet tell. So, he concluded, it’s possible that he had lived here before. The married couple that had sold him the house had mentioned a son, but they’d been moving out of town- how would the boy have made his way back almost daily? There was a bus line in the area... but who was Patton, and why had his absence been unexpected?

There was clearly missing information here, and thus the situation was theoretically dangerous. The logical thing to do would be to contact the authorities for more information- maybe the boy was a local that they were familiar with. If that were the case, they would know how to handle him. 

On the other hand… it was, put simply, a puzzle. Wasn’t it? Logan was smart; he was in online college and he was passing quite well. He had an A in psych so far. He just needed a few more minutes with the boy and he’d figure it out. He could help him... why else would he show up outside his house? 

He needed Logan.

There goes rational thought, Logan sighed as the kettle started to whistle, turning off the stovetop and moving the pot to the side. Something made him turn around- the boy was watching him from the doorway, looking almost more upset than usual. His wide eyes were watery, and as Logan hesitated he wiped an arm across his face again, expression turning to frustration. He avoided Logan’s gaze. “You said you were making tea?” He said, carefully controlled voice just above a whisper. Logan was startled out of his stupor by the boy’s coherence.

“I, um- yes! Yes, would you- what kind?”

“Earl grey? No sugar, just a bit of milk...” he carefully pulled a chair from the small table, slumping into it and reaching to fidget with the salt shaker. “Please.”

The boy’s words stirred Logan into movement and he grabbed two mugs out of the mostly barren cabinet before pulling a pre-packaged tea bag from the tea box on the counter. He unwrapped the tea and dropped one bag in each mug, pouring steaming water from the kettle into them with a satisfying noise. The warm humidity and pleasant smell caressed Logan’s face, and he took a moment to bask in it before returning to the present moment- if begrudgingly. As he set the empty kettle aside, the room quieted, the only sound the rain drizzling over the side of the roof. Logan crossed the space self-consciously to close the window. The boy’s eyes were pointedly focused on the table in front of him- Logan thought he felt more awkward this way than if the boy had been staring at him flat-out. Either way, he could feel his awareness of Logan like a thick fog. He snuck another look at the boy as he hovered beside a chair, unsure whether to sit opposite him. 

“My name is Logan,” he prompted, thoughts stumbling over each other to curse him for the repetition. 

“Thank you for the tea, Logan.”

...Well, at least that was something. His name sounded strange in the other boy’s hoarse, delicate voice- less mundane, somehow. He stood at the head of a table for one more moment that seemed to stretch out an eternity- the boy carefully spun the salt shaker around in his nimble fingers, swearing softly as some of the seasoning fell onto the table. Logan’s startled eyes studied the other’s flushed face.

And then his head caught up to him, and he shuttered into motion, rushing to the mostly empty fridge for milk and fetching the small bag of sugar he’d mercifully bought a few days before. 

“I... I’ve seen you around,” Logan’s mouth betrayed him again. That was creepy- although, looking at it objectively, it was much less creepy than being ‘around’ the way the boy had. The table behind was quiet for too long as he poured the milk. 

“...When’d you move in?” The voice was quiet and held a fragility that Logan hadn’t yet heard from the other. He was relieved to finally have an easy answer to one of the many questions he faced. And, indeed, his mouth finally obeyed him, even and direct.

“About a month ago.” He turned to face the table, the boy’s tea held stiffly between his hands. 

“Sorry,” he whispered as Logan set down the tea. “I knew someone’d moved in, but I guess… it was you.” The boy let out a hollow laugh, and Logan was swept with protectiveness once more.

“Don’t worry, I won’t alert the authorities.” Because that was the most comforting thing he could think of- he’d never been very tactful with delicate emotional situations. Predictably, the boy tensed. Logan decided it’d be advisable for him to move on. “What is your name, pray tell?”

Pray tell. Pray fucking tell? What was wrong with him? The boy cut him off before he could overthink the foot he’d just shoved in his mouth with the eloquence of an 1800s era schoolboy. 

“Patton.” A moment passed before a look of horror came over his face. “Or- no, I- it’s- Virgil! Virgil.”

Now- once again, logically- forgetting one's name was not a good sign. Of general coherence nor moral innocence. Logan knew this. 

Still, the boy looked uniquely upset by the mistake. 

Logan fetched his tea and sat down opposite him.

The other boy fidgeted incessantly, and Logan felt it fell on him to make Virgil more comfortable. He threw tact to the wind- it was tiresome anyway- in favor of distracting the other and himself from the strange fumble.

“Are you a local?”

He got a nod in response, Virgil holding the tea tightly between his hands. Logan couldn’t help but feel he’d made yet another mistake- obviously the boy wasn’t comfortable talking about himself, but was it worth Logan filling the silence with unprompted facts about himself? Would that bore Virgil? Was that rude? He let the gap in conversation rest for a moment before deciding he didn’t much care what was rude.

“This is my second year enrolled in online college- I skipped my senior year.”

The stupid non-sequitor sat in the middle of the table, sinking like a rock. Virgil managed to give him an incredulous look, even in the depths of... whatever it was that was affecting him. Logan panicked. 

Here are a few things about Logan Croft that were usually a given:

                  1. He often said things without regard to the effect they would have on others. 

                  2. He did not say things he didn’t believe to be true.

                  3. He did not readily employ personal information.

All of these rules had apparently been thrown out the window the second Virgil walked in his door. As soon as he realized this, he worked to reclaim them. “Virgil.”

The wind immediately blew out of his sails, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Speaking abrasively had never been difficult for him, and this was not the time to adopt a new weakness. “I need to know who you are. You have shown up outside of my house for the past month, and while the reasoning behind this is presumably personal and not necessarily critical for me to know, I will at least need you to tell me your full name. Against my better judgement, I will not contact the authorities about your incessant invasion of my privacy, because I don’t altogether mind it- but if you are to have regular access to my house, we can’t continue this one-sided conversation.” Regular access to his house? When had Logan considered that option? As soon as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer- the feeling of someone appearing in the doorway, seeking Logan’s company… it was something that he’d missed sorely. It was something he needed.

The boy looked startled and altogether terrified by the long stream of words. Logan, still working hard to recover his sense and new to the inclination of softening his words on the behalf of strangers, disregarded this as best he could as he waited for an answer. 

It didn’t look like he was going to get one.

Virgil opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, putting the salt shaker down on it’s side like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Logan felt a tug in his stomach to right it, afraid he’d get more salt on his table, but now didn’t seem like the time. 

As the moment stretched forward, his attention was grabbed away anyways, trying to decipher Virgil’s expression. It didn’t look good. 

In fact, it made his heart drop.

The boy looked withdrawn, fearful- like a bird with an injured wing or a snared fox. Damn it, damn it, damn it- Logan’s split-second adopted mantra was less than helpful, but it showed no signs of tapering off to make room for useful thoughts. Virgil’s eyes squeezed shut, and the instincts left over from Logan’s career as an older brother took over. 

He rushed to Virgil’s side on blind autopilot, laying a warm hand over his bony back. The boy jumped at the unexpected touch- and then leaned into it, a choked sob tearing itself from his throat. Oh no. Oh god. Damn it. 

Logan didn’t consider himself good with emotions. He did his best to comfort his younger brothers- god knows they needed it- but strangers were a whole new situation and honestly he didn’t feel much better about this than he expected the boy did.

Nevertheless. 

“Hey, I-” he took a knee to lower himself to Virgil’s level, steadying himself against the table awkwardly. “Um-”

He choked on what to say, but his mind latched to the one thing he knew. Virgil had responded positively to touch- and with little further thought, Logan bundled the shivering boy into his arms.

Logan would’ve immediately taken back the show of affection by any means necessary if Virgil hadn’t melted into the touch so readily- Logan was reminded of an oversized cat. 

That being said, Logan was holding a sobbing stranger in his arms in his new house, alone. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Logan had always been the kid at family gatherings who did everything in his power to ward off physical contact from his overbearing relatives. Although this situation was completely different and altogether impossible to plan for and avoid, he found himself reacting in somewhat of the same way- each place that Virgil’s thin, trembling body touched his screamed at him to recoil.

He did not.

He brought to mind his brothers- not that they’d ever been particularly physically affectionate with him. They’d always turned to each other, and he’d been left to himself. Understandably. But he imagined if they had seeked his reassurance, if they’d ever been as upset as this stranger was now. If they’d let him in. 

But now someone was leaning on him for comfort, and he was determined to provide for them. Imagine if Remus had come to him for help, he kept thinking. Imagine if it were Roman. 

And all of a sudden he had to hold back tears himself. He tensed, carefully leaning Virgill back onto his chair- Logan’s chair. Sensing the other’s discomfort, the boy came back to himself like a fire blazing across dry wood. 

“Fuck- fuck, I-I’m-” the boy was off at a rushed stutter, scrambling to right himself and wiping his eyes angrily. Logan shook his head, patting Virgil’s shoulder awkwardly. 

“Drink your tea,” Logan said stiffly. “It’s okay. I don’t- do you need something?” Good job, he thought sarcastically. Just pretend it never happened. Show him that, apologies, you seem to have made him think you’re an emotional resource. He was wrong, you’re actually a sociopath. Once again, sorry for any inconvenience. 

Logan’s thoughts stuttered and shouted as he tried to fix whatever he’d done. Virgil was quite obviously shaking, almost unable to hold his tea to his lips although he did make an effort, and Logan resorted back to psych class- maybe not a panic attack, but certainly an emotional breakdown and possibly an anxiety attack. “Do you have a history of generalized anxiety disorder?” Logan asked automatically, the place where he should have held a capacity for compassion currently void for whatever stupid reason. “Or even a suspected case?” The thunderstorm in his mind froze entirely as Virgil’s watery brown eyes focused on him. 

“...I guess,” he rasped quietly, eyes flickering back to his hands as they picked at each other violently. “I dunno.”

Logan let out a long breath, sliding furtively into the chair opposite Virgil. 

“If you’re having an anxiety attack, it could be caused by a persistent disorder or a recent traumatic event- although recent is a problematically inspecific measurement-” 

“Uh, then I- I dunno. Still. I guess…” He shrugged, looking away. “How recent is recently?”

Logan tried to hold back a sigh of relief at the comparatively simple question.

“Generally, anxiety attacks are caused by a buildup of unfinished tasks or other irritants, although there’s often an overarching problem or incident. A traumatic event can cause emotional turmoil for years after it occurs- or for the remainder of one’s life, depending on it’s nature- but in most to all cases, the effects lessen as time goes on.” Virgil nodded slowly. 

“And- and what are the symptoms? Of an anxiety attack?” He pulled his legs up to his chest, presumably placating the urge to make himself smaller. Logan rattled off the characteristics quickly.

“Shaking, a feeling of unease, impulsive thoughts, nausea, panic, the sensation of being trapped or cornered, restlessness, hyperventilation, trouble concentrating, dyspnea- shortness of breath, that is- am I making sense?” He wrapped his hands around the cooling cup of tea in front of him, feeling the need to steady himself. Virgil nodded again- it was apparent he was a man of few words. That worked out wonderfully, Logan thought, as he himself seemed so bent on talking as much as humanly possible. 

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered- then stood up abruptly. “Um- I should probably go. Sorry for… yeah.” Logan, decidedly more alarmed at the idea than he should’ve been, got to his feet as well.

“No- I mean, you don’t… have to. If you’d rather- but if you feel the need to go- I mean, I don’t want you to…” Logan paused, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to get his damn mouth under the control of his brain. Had he said something wrong? Well, obviously he’d said many things wrong in the past minutes, but… he thought over the conversation. He’d only been saying the facts- just what he knew. Was there something he should have kept to himself? Was any of it too personal? It was just facts, statistics, symptoms- he cursed himself mentally, although he couldn’t tell precisely what for.

While he’d been deliberating- not panicking, never panicking- Virgil had frozen in place. Right. The whole blazing trainwreck of words he’d let out for no apparent reason. Where the hell had that even come from? He’d known this kid for a month- five minutes face-to-face- and he was already being weird and nonsensical. It took considerable effort to bring the circumstances of their meeting to mind and even the playing field in his subconscious. If they were both creepy, did it even out? “I-I meant... you’re welcome here.” 

Logan could see the gears turning in Virgil’s head as he fell back into his chair. A weight slid off of his shoulders as the air between them settled- they were even. Or something. 

As much as he expected to regret his words, he was surprised at the lack of protest from his thoughts. It was, for once, blessedly quiet both inside his head and out. Logan sat back down warily. “You obviously have some- some connection to this house.” Like some sort of undead apparition, he thought- but he had the sense to keep that, at least, inside. “I can’t tell if it has a positive or negative effect on your mental state as I seem to be an uncalled for variable in your visit. I’m no psychological authority... I know you’ll come back either way, and I don’t like imagining you back out in the rain.” A shiver went through the boy like a roll of thunder, and he nodded. 

“When can I come here again?”

[whumpthisway]

Huck and Stephen - Acceptance

This is a series - link to 01. Masterpost here <3 (which needs updating sorry. if you can’t find anything, send me an ask and i’ll link you)

A/N: This one is set directly after Unwanted, with Huck being discovered down in the basement by the police. Please check the tags and do ask me for specific tags, further details, or warnings if you need them or I miss something. If you have opinions, questions or thoughts, feel free to send me an ask :3

Huck and Stephen’s story can now be read on my AO3 here, and this new chapter is here.

Content warnings: abuse, panic attacks, needles, fear of death/believing they’re about to be killed, hospital setting, doctors being assholes

Huck/Pet POV

*

They must’ve fallen back into unconsciousness after they’d been found by the police, as the next thing they knew was that the floor was rumbling under them.

Whining quietly even before their eyes were open, Pet winced and blinked, briefly blinded by the daylight, and looked around in confusion. They were in a car, another car; lying with their cheek resting against warm leather. Waking up sharpened the pain of their injuries to an unbearable degree, the motion of the car quickly making them feel sick, and Pet started to cry in silent, tearless sobs that shook their shoulders painfully.

Where were they being taken? There was nothing good about car rides, and Pet was damaged beyond repair, now. No-one would want them. Not even Kiaran had thought them to be worth anything, since he hadn’t bothered to come back for them.

A gentle hand smoothed over their ears, startling them from their thoughts, and Pet twisted painfully around to find a woman sat beside them in the back of the car. At least this time they weren’t jammed into the footwell, and the woman’s touch was kind as she carefully untangled their matted fur with her fingers. Her other hand was settled on her stomach.

“Easy there, little one,” she soothed. “Not far now.”

Pet whined quietly. Not far to where? Maybe they were returning Pet to Master. That would… be okay. Far better than they deserved. Pet sighed, resting their head on their paws as they tried to ignore the pain emanating across their chest, and the agonising throb of their tail. They couldn’t imagine how furious Master was going to be at the state of them.

Time passed fuzzily and Pet lay curled up on the back seat, fighting the nausea in their belly. The woman gently gave them a little more water before she took it away again. The water sat uneasily inside them and Pet tried to remember what it felt like to be uninjured and comfortably full.

Pet stirred when the car pulled to a stop and flinched when the car door nearest to them clunked open, letting in a rush of cooler air and light. The woman climbed out of her side of the car and the thud of the door shutting made Pet cringe.

“It’s alright now, we’re going to get you some help,” the woman said, standing at the open door nearest to Pet, and Pet blinked blearily up at her.

The woman turned away, towards the man who’d been driving the car. “Can you carry them okay?” she said quietly to him. “Or I can get a wheelchair?”

“I got it, Mariann.”

Pet drew in a horrified breath when a man, bigger and even meaner-looking than Harrison, leaned suddenly over them. They cried out, just once, as they tried to scramble further inside the car and almost falling into the footwell in their panic.

“Hey, woah, easy.” The man patted the air as if that was any reassurance at all.

Pet’s frantic movement and fast, terrified breathing sent spikes of pain through their ribs and they went limp with a wheezing whimper, shaking. Just no more, that’s all they wanted, no more pain, no more humans, no more fear. They’d never been so overwhelmed, so overstimulated, whilst at the same time so apathetic and so exhausted.

“I’m not going to hurt you buddy.” The man cocked his head and tried to smile. “Just going to take you somewhere warmer, and safe.”

Pet, their ears pressed flat to their head, pressed their head into the crook of their arm and went still. What was the point of resisting anyway? Pet would just be grabbed eventually and being a brat about it, as Master used to snap at them, only ever made the humans angrier.

After a moment of Pet staying small and limp in the back of the car, the man cautiously ducked inside and gently gathered them up. He wasn’t rough or cruel about it but the feeling of hands on them, in their fur, jarring their agonising rib injuries, their tail, their pounding head, made Pet cry harder, though they tried not to. Crying made creatures weak, disgusting and unlikeable, and Pet was already all of those things, without weeping everywhere.

The feeling of being lifted up into the air only made their nausea worse too and they had to drag in snatches of air through clenched teeth as they tried not to retch. Pet didn’t want to think about what this man would do if they threw up all over him.

“Now don’t claw me, alright?” the man said. “I’m only trying to help.”

Pet kept their eyes tightly shut both against the blinding sun and in fear of the man carrying them. They carefully curled their claws tightly up against their furred chest, because they didn’t trust themself not to scrabble for the man carrying them if he dropped them, even as they shuddered at the thought of what this man would do if they tore his clothes with their claws, or worse, cut him.

They could hear the woman, Mariann, following alongside with little clicks of her shoes, keeping up with the man’s long stride.

The went into a building and a bright white space where the air smelled badly of sweat and pain and chemicals. It was full of humans, many of them with creatures at their feet and Pet couldn’t help but stare; they’d never seen so many creatures in one place, nor so close by. There were several smaller ones who looked like them, with dark fur and cupped, wolf-like ears, as well as ones so big they came up to their owner’s hip even when they were sat down. There was a creamy-white one, several greys, multiple shades of brown, one pure black and one an almost pinkish-red, with different types of fur and tails and ears. Pet hadn’t known creatures like them could look so varied.

But the more Pet looked, the more they realised that the other creatures all looked injured and sick, exhausted and defeated, and none of them were looking around. Many were on leashes or harnesses and some wore bulky collars that Pet recognised with a feeling of dread. Master Parry had threatened to get them one of those; one that’d shock them whenever they were bad. One pet had a muzzle strapped to their face, like a dog. What was this place? Were these people taking Pet to be put down? Because they were a lost cause that no-one wanted?

“No need for that,” the man said, his voice rumbling in his chest against Pet’s shoulder when Pet’s breathing hitched and new tears came, though the scruff at their neck was already damp with it. “You’re safe now.”

Pet assumed the man’s words meant that he was getting tired of their crying and tried to stop. They were too tired and dehydrated to cry for long anyway and the man’s warmth, however threatening he was, was making them drowsy.

After a short wait, Pet was carried further into the white building, the corridors panelled and identical and the whole place feeling cold and hard.

Inside a large room with two lines of beds packed close together, many of them occupied, Pet was laid down on an empty bed near a window. They whimpered softly in pain as the unforgiving mattress pressed against their ribs and their tail was jolted. But the man stepped away, to talk to Mariann, and Pet was relieved by that.

The humans talked somewhere off to the right and Pet, curling up, drifted in and out. It ought to have been too bright and frightening to sleep but they felt like sand was weighing down on them. Sliding into unconscious took less effort than trying to stay awake.

*

 Pain met Pet first when they awoke, and then a strange man in white leaned over them and Pet yelped. They tried to scramble away, but their shoulder thudded into the bed’s metal railing and sent a wave of pain across their chest and sides and back. They curled into themself, gasping.

“Calm down, now,” the strange man sounded displeased and stern and he reminded Pet of Master Parry. “Is it usually so twitchy?”

“They’re a rescue,” a familiar woman’s voice said firmly and Pet’s ear pricked up. “After what they’ve been through, it’s a wonder they’re as functional as they are.” The woman, Mariann, stepped closer in her little shoes and Pet didn’t find themself to be too afraid of her. She’d done nothing to hurt them, and had only gently petted them in the car. She looked down on them with a soft look and Pet blinked and quickly lowered their gaze. “They’ve been very strong and good,” she said, clearly more directed at Pet than the frosty man in white. Pet couldn’t help but feel warm at her gentle praise, though they could hardly agree with her.

She looked nothing like Alyse; Alyse had been almost as tall as Master Parry with blonde hair down to her ribs, where Mariann was petite and her stomach noticeably curved outwards; pregnant, Pet thought, recognising it from women they’d seen on TV. The two women didn’t look alike, and yet they’d both been kind to a filthy, broken creature when they didn’t have to be. Pet felt a rush of relief that she was here beside them and hadn’t left them alone.

“Be that as it may,” the man said sharply, “if I am to examine it, it’ll have to be drugged or restrained.”

Pet whined and curled their arms around their head, their paws pressed into the fur by their flattened ears. The humans kept talking around them, Mariann sounding angry, but it was muffled and Pet didn’t want to know what they were planning to do to them. They couldn’t stop it, so there was no point in knowing.

A cool hand took their wrist after some time and Pet flinched away, but didn’t try to get themself free. A sharp pinpoint of pain at the crook of their elbow followed and Pet’s eyes flew open as they dropped their paw from where it was covering their face. What had the humans done? Looking quickly down, Pet saw a different woman pulling her hand from their arm, an emptied needle in her hand, and Pet stared in horror.

Once, Harrison had gleefully told them that when his father bored of Pet, Pet would be killed with a jab of a needle. He’d mimed convulsing on the floor, screeching in pretend pain, while Pet had stared, shaken and horrified. Harrison had sat up and grinned, taking great pleasure in poking them with pencils at random intervals for weeks after, just to see them startle, and then pretended to inject them, making them feel sick every time. That’d been years ago but Pet had never forgotten.

Whining softly, Pet started shaking and even Mariann’s expression of concern and kind words weren’t enough the stop their panic when they began to feel drowsy. There wasn’t the pain Pet had expected but they weren’t ready to die, they didn’t want it- But, exhausted as they already were, there was no use fighting it and, as always, the humans got what they wanted.

 *

“They’re not ready to be discharged!” The words were hissed, sharp and angry but trying to be quiet. Still, Pet’s heart up-ticked and they tensed. “Look at them, they’ve been beaten to hell and back and they’ve been here less than six hours-”

“We don’t have space,” a male voice cut in, unemotional and hard. Pet couldn’t tell if it was the same man from before or not. “Its healing well. Pet healing is on average 6% faster than-”

“Bullshit.” It was Mariann, Pet realised after a moment. Her voice sounded different when she was so obviously furious and Pet had to force themself to keep still. Mariann and the man weren’t talking to them, probably thought Pet was still asleep. “They need this bed, and they-”

“No. It doesn’t.” The man sighed. “Listen. You’re clearly new so I’ll explain this once. I discharge this creature and I know it’ll go with you, to a shelter or to be fostered. It won’t end up on the street.” He paused, lowering his voice. “That one there? Brought in by the owner for two broken legs. He then broke the creature’s nose in front of me, when it didn’t lower its eyes fast enough. Do you understand? Creatures like that need beds here far more than your creature does. I have to prioritise.”

Mariann was silent for a long moment. “What time? When do they have to leave by?”

“This afternoon. Before three o’clock, the earlier the better.”

“What pain meds will they get? Follow up treatment?”

“None. Didn’t they explain this to you?” He sounded irritated and impatient. “This is emergency treatment only. The government pays, but only barely. They look after creatures that’ll die otherwise to stop bad PR, but that’s it. I’m sorry, but after this, if it needs more care, your charity will pay for private care or you’ll use a first aid kit.”

The man’s footsteps receded down the hall and Pet lay still, pretending to be asleep while their mind churned. Mariann was part of a charity? A charity that’d look after Pet?

“You heard that?”

Mariann’s voice startled them; they hadn’t even heard her approach, and they inhaled sharply in shock, before descending into a coughing fit. Their throat was achingly dry.

Pet was gently coaxed, half-lifted, up to seated and a cup pressed to their lips. The water was heavenly. When it was finished, Mariann pulled over a chair and Pet sat and stared blankly at the blanket covering their legs.

The pain was there but it felt distant, their mind a little floaty, and they struggled to accept that they weren’t dead. The injection hadn’t killed them at all. Another thing Harrison had lied about to scare them, Pet supposed tiredly.

“How long’ve you been awake, sweetie?” Mariann rested a hand on the swell of her stomach and considered them.

Pet ducked their head in shame. Mariann had helped them and Pet had already been bad, even though they’d barely been awake ten minutes. They’d eavesdropped, and deceived-

Mariann set a hand on top of their paw and Pet twitched. “I don’t mind, okay?” she said. “How’re you feeling? Can you speak for me?”

Pet quickly shook their head. Talking brought nothing but more trouble and more pain.

“Alright, that’s fine, you don’t have to.” She patted their paw before taking away her hand. Pet missed the warmth of it. “What’s going to happen is you resting up for a little bit longer. In a few hours, we’ll move you out of here and take you to a creature shelter, somewhere safe and not too far away. What’ll happen then depends on how you’re feeling, so we’ll take it as we go. Sound good?”

Not knowing what else to do, Pet nodded. It was clearly the right thing to do because Mariann gave them the kind of warm, soft smile that made Pet’s heart thud and tears well up involuntarily. Being looked at like that was something they wanted so much that it hurt, but which terrified them just as much.

“Okay,” Mariann said, seeming to come to a decision. “I’ll leave you to get some more sleep. I’ll be back in a little while.” She looked at them seriously. “You’ve got nothing to worry about now. Nothing bad will happen, I promise.”

That was an impossible thing to promise, Pet thought, but they nodded silently all the same. Mariann was being kind, and maybe she even meant it.

She helped them drink some more water before helping them lie back down, propping up their pillows like their comfort really mattered. Pet was glad she left after that, because they didn’t want her to see them cry, rendered weak and pathetic over a tiny bit of kindness.

The room they were in was full of beds holding other injured creatures, who groaned or cried out at times. Humans in white or blue hurried around, sometimes wheeling a creature away or leaned over them and did things that Pet didn’t understand.

Pet didn’t sleep, but lay still and stared up at the ceiling, which was peeling at the corners. They thought about dying. About Mariann promising them safety and protection. About the men who’d stolen them, Ry who’d left them in the basement, and Alyse who’d cared for them. About Harrison’s cruelty and Master’s loathing.

And here was Pet, at the mercy of all of them. Hope felt like a dangerous thing and they ignored the feeling with as much determination as they put into ignoring the pain in their tail. Maybe Mariann would make sure they were taken care of, or maybe they’d fall into the hands of a human far worse than Master. Only time would tell.

~

i’ve written a bit more and we are so so close to Huck and Stephen being reunited, im excited <3 my inbox is always open for thoughts, requests, feedback and ideas!

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[nancywheelxr]

I saw your post about Edward pretending to have detention and PLEASE DO THE PROMPT “Detention? Again?” THAT IS IN YOUR PROMPT LISTS

Hm hello?? Yes, please??

*

Being Edward’s friend is– Bella’s going with weird.

Mostly, though, because Edward is freaking weird, okay? They have biology and English together and sometimes Study Hall when he doesn’t ditch, so she figures she’s got some authority to say that after a month, they’re more or less best friends.

That being said, Bella is going to murder him.

“What do you mean you can’t take me home?” She asks very calmly because this is the second time her truck broke down and while both Jake and Charlie had volunteered to drive her, Edward had been adamant about being totally cool with doing it after school, they would be in the same place anyway. 

Bella pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Sorry,” Edward offers her a sheepish smile, “got detention.”

“Detention,” she repeats flatly, “again?”

“Oops?” He shrugs, too pleased to look anywhere near apologetic, the fucker.

“When did you have the time to get detention, we had the same classes after lunch–”

“Oh, look, don’t worry,” he cuts her off, waving at someone behind her shoulder that Bella just knows is going to be his siblings. “There’s Rose and the others, I’m sure one of them can give you a ride.”

Before she could say anything to that, Alice is slamming into her with a hug, and this is so not fair because Edward knows it’s impossible to be mad at Alice and he knows she’s going to distract Bella from being mad at Edward. Unfair. She’d have words with both of them if she weren’t already being distracted. “Bella! You’re coming with us today? That’s wonderful! I found this book in Rose’s room that I think you’re going to love!”

That’s. Okay. “Okay?”

A few feet behind her, Jasper waves a friendly wave that would’ve been a bit more friendly if he didn’t look like he might be one wrong move from bursting into tears. Or going into a murder spree, Bella can never quite pin it down. Still, she waves back.

And while Jasper is leaning against his jeep, waiting for Alice, Emmet is pulling Rosalie with him, approaching them with a shit-eating grin that can only mean trouble.

Trouble for Bella, specifically.

And, well, Rosalie is looking– god, is it always going to like this? Bella would like to have her heart back at some point, she thinks, and maybe not feel like the whole world is shifting under her feet every time Rosalie is around. Then again, in a town like Forks, where there’s hardly any sunlight, Bella can’t be blamed for being a bit in love with someone that shines like the sun.

“Bella needs a ride home,” Edward is saying, and he’s making some weird eye contact with Emmet and Alice is looking giddy, so really, Bella figures she should probably go look for Jess or Angela because Jess or Angela aren’t up to no good. Probably. “I had promised to take her, but I got detention.”

“It’s really not a problem, I can call–”

“Oh, shoot,” Alice cuts her off, making a really bad job of looking upset, “Jasper’s driving the Jeep today and you know how he is about overcrowding the car.”

“Seatbelts,” Jasper says helpfully, making a what can you do gesture.

“Right,” Bella blinks, deciding it’s better to just take it in stride, “I guess I’ll just call Jake, he said he’d be around–”

“There’s space,” Rosalie suddenly speaks, stilted and uncomfortable, “no need to call… your friend.”

Oh. Well. How can Bella say no, then?

“Awesome,” Emmet grins, throwing an arm around Alice, “Bella’s with you, then.”

“Not enough space in the Jeep,” Alice nods.

“We don’t want your dad thinking we’re breaking any laws,” Edward agrees with way too much confidence for someone who’s allegedly in detention again.

“Excuse me?” Rosalie grits out, glaring at her siblings.

And she looks like she has a lot more words to say on the matter, but Emmet’s already pulling Alice away and Edward is heading to– the library? Does he know that’s not where detention is?

In less than a minute everyone is gone, leaving Bella alone to try and get her shit together long enough not to make a complete fool of herself. No need to give Rosalie more reasons to think she’s a total dumbass.

Which reminds her, “it’s okay, you don’t have to, uh. Drive me,” she glances away, at the students still milling about the parking lot, “I can call Charlie or– I think Jess is still here? Really, it’s totally fine, I mean, I could even walk, it’s not like I live that far–”

“Bella,” Rosalie says and Bella looks up to find her almost smiling, and god, if that’s not a sucker punch in her chest, and her eyes are uncharacteristically soft for like, a full minute before she’s clearing her throat, back to the indifferent expression she always wears, “come on, car’s this way.”

Bella feels herself flushing as she slips into the convertible, tucking her hair behind her ears and smoothing out her hoodie, trying very hard not to feel too out of place in the leather seat, her battered bag at her feet. In the driver’s seat, Rosalie fits perfectly. 

It makes Bella think of old movies with Hollywood starlets– a car driving by the beach, large sunglasses, red lipstick, hair in the wind.

The radio crackles into life.

Startled, she snaps her eyes up, meeting Rosalie’s in the rearview mirror for a fleeting second before Rosalie glances away, back to the windshield.

“So, cars,” Bella blurts out without thinking, immediately cringing at how freaking lame it sounds out loud, “I mean. Edward said you liked cars?”

Strangely, Rosalie doesn’t look annoyed with the non-sequitur. Instead, she just looks amused. “Yeah, I restore them sometimes.”

“Really?” She can’t help perking up, grasping this crumble of information greedily and trying to fit it along with all the other things that make Rosalie, Rosalie. It makes for a mismatched puzzle Bella wouldn’t mind taking her time to figure all out. “That’s– that’s really amazing.”

Rosalie hums. “It helps pass the time,” she shrugs like it’s no big deal, uncharacteristically hesitant, almost as if she’s afraid Bella will think less of her for it, “I’m in the middle of restoring a Riviera right now, actually.”

Okay, honesty hour: Bella has no idea what that means. 

Still, she makes a mental note to look it up later while forcefully stopping herself from inviting herself over to see it.

Some of it must show on her face, though, because Rosalie huffs something a lot like laughter. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Not even a little,” Bella admits, smiling sheepishly because hearing Rosalie laugh is a high she doesn’t want to come down from, “but I don’t mind listening to you talk, it’s interesting,” and you look really beautiful when you do, she doesn’t add.

Rosalie huffs again, glancing at Bella, then back at the road, only to look at her again. “You think car repairing is interesting?”

She shrugs. “I guess.”

“Unbelievable,” she shakes her head, but Bella thinks she’s still amused, “is your truck back from the shop yet?”

“Should be,” her father had told her so, at least, “why?”

“I don’t trust the mechanics here,” Rosalie says haughtily, then adds, almost hesitant, or as hesitant as Rosalie Hale can be, “I could take a look if you wanted, see if it’s properly fixed.”

Bella’s heart stumbles. “I– that would be nice,” she swallows thickly, “I mean, only if you don’t have anything better to do, I don’t want to bother you or anything–”

“I’m offering,” Rosalie points out, “it’s no trouble.”

I don’t understand you, Bella wants to say. Most of the time, Rosalie glares and scowls, flinching away from Bella like she’s got the plague or something, and then– she does things like this. She slides in the seat beside her in chemistry and salvages Bella's experiments. She drives her home and makes small talk. 

She offers to take a look at Bella's truck.

Probably just interested in the old thing, Bella reasons, putting a lid on the stray emotions fluttering about.

“Then I’d like that,” she finally answers, steady and not at all earnest.

Her house is just around the block now and Rosalie is not only going to drop her off but spend the afternoon around, tinkering in Bella's garage. It's no big deal. Bella can survive this, honest.

In the dimmed sunlight, Rosalie seems to glimmer.

Yeah, Bella tells herself, swallowing thickly with a dry mouth and wildly drumming heart, she’ll totally survive this.

[tinyandsteven]

Tony’s Guide to Raising An Alien Child

3k Words.

Helping a stranded alien child wasn’t on Tony’s agenda, nor growing fond of said child.

or; Tony adopts an alien child.

Also on ao3

The Audi purred under Tony’s touch. The leather of the steering wheel was nice and cold under his tight grip, which brought a comfort to him. The firm hold grounded him, eased away the emptiness that threatened to creep over his skin deep down into his bones until it swallowed him whole.

He had just visited Jarvis’ grave and brought him some fresh flowers. Tony had lit a candle while he leaned against the gravestone and told Jarvis about everything that happened since the last time he visited him. It always put him in a melancholy mood, like someone had punched him in the chest and left a hole that let all the good memories with Jarvis bleed to the surface.

It was Jarvis who was there for him when Howard pushed, beat, and broke him, time and time again. He would clean the wounds, listen to Tony’s silent, stuttered apologies and explanations, offering a comfort that Howard never even thought of. The man was more of a father to Tony than Howard ever was, so Tony missed him dearly.

It had been a hard day. He had a nightmare that had woken him up with a start, leaving him sweat-soaked and panting. Flashes of dirty water disrupted his vision - people yelling at him, pushing his head into a tank with ice-cold water as the car battery attached to his chest sent sparks of electricity to his core, numbing his insides. His burning lungs were the only thing that reminded him that he was still alive, that he was still breathing. Oh, how he wished he wasn’t in that moment. Immediately upon waking, he had checked for a hole in his chest; searching for guards who would push him right under and a friend who was no longer alive.

Pepper had broken up with him after the palladium poisoning fiasco and took away the only healthy coping mechanism and form of comfort. She might be tough and collected for the public eye, but provided Tony with loving words and soothing touches, a steady and kind presence in his life that would calm him like no other. She had promised to be always there for him and listen to him, but he felt awkward even mentioning his nightly terrors to her now. It seemed too intimate, and they weren’t close like that anymore. It wasn’t her fault. He would never blame her.

So he did what he always did to take his mind off of his troubles: he took the day off to get out of the city and visit his old friend. A change of scenery was supposed to work wonders, Pepper once told him, and so he tried - but all the visit really did was make him more mournful than he already was.

The highway back into the city was empty as if the world seemed to know that Tony Stark needed a moment to himself. He had opened the convertible hood of the car before he started his journey home to feel the wind blow in his face. The red-tinted sunglasses on his nose covered the tear streaks running down his face. The sunset reflected in Tony’s sunglasses, tinting the world in a peaceful and comfortable ambiance.

A deafening noise and a blinding light pulled Tony from his thoughts, and he slammed on the brakes. For a moment the car slithered over the road before he managed to stop it on the side of the highway. The genius stilled in his seat, his knuckles white from the tight grip on the steering wheel. He slowly turned his head to where the crash had coming from.

“J.A.R.V.I.S, activate the gauntlet,” Tony mumbled while he tapped a code into his watch, his eyes still trained into the distance. The armor covered his wrist and snuck up his palm before it wrapped around his finger. The repulsor charged, ready to attack. He was always prepared for a fight, no longer trusting anyone. Not after Stane’s betrayal.

Tony slowly stepped out of the car, leaving the door open in case he had to escape quickly. He stepped closer to the crash site. Whatever had caused the loud noise was obscured by a cloud of dust.

“Is anyone hurt? Do you need help?” Tony yelled, his covered hand stretched out. Coughing and rumbling could be heard as the cloud started to vanish. Tony made out a bizarre, round construction that looked a lot like a spaceship he had seen in the Star Wars movies with Pepper. He had never seen a car in such a shape.

It didn’t have any wheels like the cars he had on the lower levels of his lab. No typical form of an automobile and he couldn’t make out a steering wheel on the inside of the odd-looking thing.

His stomach was slowly sinking, brows furrowing as the realization started to sink in. It wasn’t a car. It was an extraterrestrial plane. No, not a plane. A ship. It was a real spaceship. It didn’t seem possible, and yet here it was.

The machine seemed to give up on life, the sounds and blinking lights fading. He averted his eyes from the ship to a small figure crawling away from the ship. Was the person purple or was his mind playing tricks on him again? Tony took off the glasses and squinted, not ready to come closer to whatever was trying to escape.

“Hey, you! Stop!” he shouted at the figure. The person turned around in what seemed like utter shock. Its skin was no longer purple but matched his own now. Was it purple to begin with? God, Tony needed to get a nice drink once he got home, catch some rest and forget today ever happened.

Tony took a closer look and soon realized that he was looking at a cowering boy - a boy that looked more afraid than Tony felt. Huh, he thought. He didn’t even seem like a threat.

Tony let his hand sink and crouched down to be eye level with the boy. He looked not a day older than fourteen, with big, brown, doe-like eyes and a mop of messy curls on top of his head. Were those antennas?

The child blinked at him, seemingly contemplating what to do next. He didn’t move or breathe, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Tony cleared his throat before he spoke. He tried to keep his voice soft and low, forgetting about his former turmoil. “Hey, I am Tony. I won’t hurt you if you promise to not hurt me, even though I doubt you’ll get very far with your ship.” he snorted at his last words, lifting both hands in a peace offering.

The Alien boy’s eyes followed Tony’s hand, widening every passing moment as he took in the gauntlet. Golden dots and tiny strokes appeared under his eyes and on his neck, running down his arms to his knuckles, illuminating his pale skin. The antennas started to vibrate.

Tony watched in wonder as the boy’s skin started to glow, fascinated with his reactions. He eventually followed the boy’s gaze to his hands and realized his mistake.

“Oh, you’re afraid of the armor,” Tony concluded and wiggled his finger. A smile crept on his face as he asked J.A.R.V.I.S to deactivate the gauntlet. The red glove disappeared back into his watch, leaving not only his hand bare but also his whole being. He was vulnerable without his armor, but the boy didn’t seem to be a threat, so he figured he was safe for now.

“Do you even understand what I’m saying?” Tony asked the boy, letting his arms fall. The boy nodded slowly and deliberately.

“My head is able to translate your language into mine, and my language into yours when I speak,” the little alien whispered, his shoulders still tense and on alert, like Tony would still attack him any second. He reminded the man of a frightened animal. With a sigh, Tony fell to his knees and stretched out his hand, palm up, not even caring about dirtying his expensive dress pants.

“I have no intention of hurting you. You wanna know how I see the situation?” he gave the alien a moment for a reaction and continued after a boy gave him a tiny nod.

“You crashed on a foreign planet and you have no way of taking off again anytime soon, because, I am sorry to say, buddy, your ship seems to be quite useless at the moment. So you are basically stranded here alone and not knowing anyone,” Tony guessed. The man’s words made the boy’s shoulder sag with every word. The young alien started to fiddle with his hands in a nervous manner and turned his eyes away from Tony and to his damaged ship, noticeably shaken from the fact that the man was correct about his situation.

“I am Peter,” he mumbled after a while. “and you are right.” Peter looked up again, his eyes fixed on Tony’s while he tugged on the sleeves of his silver suit. “I don - I don’t know what to do or where to go.” the boy admitted after a while, his tense posture dropped in defeat.

Oh, how Tony wished he could just turn around, get into his car, drive home and pretend this never happened. The whiskey that was stashed away in one of the kitchen cabinets would surely help with the process of forgetting, but the boy seemed helpless and something inside Tony pulled at his heartstrings. He could leave Peter there, letting him fend for himself and not deal with the consequences of suggesting what he was about to suggest. Tony let his eyes fall shut and hummed, just considering the options.

Someone would find the ship eventually. It was quite large. People would ask questions and the government would bring out their big guns to search for whoever crashed the spaceship in the first place. They would find Peter at some point because the alien probably couldn’t go very far without any help and Tony doubted that the boy had any knowledge about humans. He would step right into their trap and they would lock him up and experiment on him. And did Tony really want that on his conscience?

“Look, kid, I am a mechanic. I can get someone to pick up your ship and help you get it fixed.” Tony eventually said with a heavy sigh, taking a look at the ship as well. He had to see if he could work with the hardware and make sure that repair parts were available.

Peter seemed hesitant at first. The boy chewed on his lips, considering his options as well. “Why would you help me?” Peter asked the man, a wary look in his eyes. Eyes that looked suspiciously a lot like Tony’s.

“What other options do you have, hm? That’s the best outcome, really. You could either accept my help or get caught and be experimented on,” Tony explained with a shrug. “And you remind me of myself,” he added under his breath.

Tony didn’t lie. The young alien reminded him of himself. He not only shared some significant features with the man, like the exact same shape of his eyes but also acted like a younger Tony.

Peter looked at him for a solid minute, not blinking once before he stood up. He dusted off some dirt from his suit and put his hands on his hips.

“Alright, Tony. Show me the way. How many moon rises till we get to your accommodation?” The young alien asked the man and started to march in the wrong direction. He had gone from scared and afraid to determined and purposeful. For a moment Tony wondered whether or not he made the right decision to take in a stranded alien boy. After all, what did he know about aliens? And who knew what intentions this particular alien had. Tony did have a record of trusting the wrong people.

“Kid, come on. That’s not the way. I parked my car over there.” Tony stopped the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder and turning him around. He pointed to his parked vehicle on the highway. The boy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, a curious expression crept on his features.

“What is a car, Tony?” he asked with furrowed brows. A quick glance at the hand on his shoulder made the boy stop in his tracks. The touch had nothing intimidating about it. It was rather guiding, Peter decided. None of his senses started to ring and alarm him. Tony seemed to be a genuine person with sincere intentions. He could trust him for now.

“It’s a little like your space ship here. It can’t fly and I bet it’s not as fast, but it transports us where we need to go.” Tony informed him and started to walk towards the car, pushing the boy forward as well.

“Okay.” It took Peter a few moments but eventually he started walking. The man’s hand was comforting on his back. After spending so much time alone on his ship, he started to miss other presences next to him. He got lonely pretty quickly and being able to interact with a person after so long, even if the man was a stranger to him, was refreshing.

It was quite a sight to see the boy stop in front of the car. Confusion laced the alien’s features as he crossed his arms, his antennas vibrating. Tony opened the passenger door for him.

“Come on, kid. It’s getting late. It was a difficult day for me so I would appreciate if we could just go home and sort this mess out tomorrow, huh?” Tony dragged a tired hand over his face, scratching his goatee. Peter did as he was told, his eyes never leaving the older man. Tony closed the door and got into the driver’s seat. “And if I am lucky, this whole day turns out to be just a bad dream,” he muttered under his breath. Not really wanting for Peter to hear any of it in case this mess was not a dream after all.

“What is a kid? You have been calling me that.” Peter asked as soon as Tony helped the boy to fasten the belt.

“Well, it’s another term for a child,” Tony said after a while, trying to get back onto the road. A throbbing pain started to spread from the front of his head to his temples. A migraine was exactly what was missing in this situation.

God, what was he even doing, picking up a stray alien? Pepper would know what to do in such a situation. She was the rational one. The one who always saw the big picture. But wasn’t that the reason why Tony drove her away in the end? Because he was lacking all these qualities? Pepper was everything Tony wasn’t, and in the end, Tony wasn’t enough to keep her by his side.

“I will let you know, that I am in no way a child! I am three moon changes old.” Peter informed him, while his eyes wandered over the board computer. He compared the screens, buttons and hand gear to his own ship, letting his fingertips slide over it.

Tony didn’t answer the young alien, not only because he was tired but the headache made it impossible to think straight, especially when the boy let words and phrases slip that made no sense to the genius. The man just hummed in acknowledgment.

Peter was silent during the drive, that was until they entered the busy streets of New York. They spend more time standing and waiting in the traffic than actually driving. Peter had his hands and face pressed against the window, watching the bustle of the city with a curious twinkle in his eyes. Tony winced at the action. The boy would leave handprints and stains all over the window, much to Happy’s chagrin. He could already see the man getting into a fuss about it.

Tony could feel the excitement radiating from the alien. He watched Peter turning in his seat and getting comfortable on his knees. Little wows and ohs slipped past his lips in astonishment. Tony’s finger drummed on the steering wheel as he watched the boy, waiting for the traffic light to turn green.

“Peter,” he addressed the child while he grabbed something from the back seat and placed it in the kid’s lap. “Put this on.”

Peter averted his eyes from the outside world to the fabric in his lap. He adjusted in his seat to get comfortable, examining the piece of clothing. It was a top but with long sleeves and a what seemed to be like a hood. It was a thicker material than the fabric of his suit and had Stark Industries written on the chest. It was softer than any of the tight suits Peter had to wear since he was born.

“What is it for?” Peter asked, his brows furrowed and his head tilted. He looked a little like a puppy.

“We’re almost there. It will help hide your - well your, you know,” Tony pointed to the antennas. “Humans don’t have those. The hoodie will prevent unwanted attention.”

Peter looked up to where Tony had pointed, nudging one of his antennas. The antennas were a sensitive area and the touch made him giggle.

“Oh, I didn’t even notice that they were still there. My transformation wasn’t as successful as I thought it was.” The boy said, while he pulled the sweater over his head. “Also I think it’s the right moment to inform you that I copied about 97% of your DNA to look like a human.”

Tony should have been horrified by the boy’s confession, but he was tired and strung out and it was a really really long day for him. Now, he hadn’t the time to unpack all of that. It could all wait till tomorrow. He huffed in response and tried not to yell and honk at the next bastard that tried to cut him off. All he wanted was to go home and fall into his from Japan exported silk sheets and sleep for three days straight. Maybe in another life.

[glueforleather-blog]

How to Repair Leather Car Seats

Leather vehicle seats are the exemplification of extravagance with regards to the inside of your vehicle. It is an announcement of complexity and class with some top of the line vehicle models brandishing such seats. Regardless of leather being a sturdy material, it can likewise destroy because of effect or long stretches of wear. In that capacity, information on the most proficient method to fix leather vehicle seats with breaks or tears is a benefit.

Fixing leather might be a hard undertaking when you think about the quality of this upholstery material. In any case, with the correct arrangement of apparatuses, you can pull it well and spare your pocket from the leather vehicle seat fix cost.

If you need to bring the best out of your leather seat support, you have to comprehend the current harm. Minor splits and scratches on the outside of the material are reasonable, and on occasion, you can manage it by applying some glue for leather to veil it. The issue accompanies unconcealable harm, for example, consumes and copious tears, which will require you to pull the best deceits to have your seats fit as a fiddle.

Let us take a gander at a portion of the manners in which you can fix leather vehicle seats.

Fixing Cracks on Leather Car Seats

As prior indicated, splits are an across the board event on vehicle situations and may come to fruition because of presentation to physical operators just as temperature changes. To fix splits on your seats, you will require a leather fix unit, which in addition to other things, contains a leather color. Ensure the shading matches the inside of your vehicle.

You start by cleaning the whole seat to expel earth by utilizing warm water and some gentle cleanser. A leather cleaner can likewise turn out accurately. Trim out hanging strings and any harsh patches to make the blemish smooth for the following methodology. An edge or some scissors can carry out the responsibility well.

The width and how genuine the split decides the following item you will pull out of your fix pack. For a little break, you can utilize leather glue and top it up with some leather filler. Spread out the cartridge and sand it down. When smoothened out well, use leather colored for uniformity. Close the window to permit the region to dry and forestall the section of earth.

On account of more profound splits, you should put a leather fix underneath the break and utilize a liberal measure of filler to fix the imperfection. Utilize a bed blade to spread the cushion and let it dry for some time before including more. The cushion recoils; thus, you have to top up another layer once it dries. Following six hours of drying, you can add a layer of color to seal the split.

Scratches are additionally healthy, and you can utilize a little measure of color to cover it up. Guarantee, you spread the shading uniformly for it not to form revolting spots on the outside of your leather seats.

Fixing Tears on Your Leather Car Seat

Tears on your seats are additionally healthy; however, not at all like break, they are progressively articulated and harm the standpoint of the vehicle. The scraped spot is one of the first courses of leather seat tears, the equivalent to a physical effect, for example, that of a cutting edge. You can fix little harm in a similar way you set a split.

Proficient upkeep masters can likewise sew the cleft utilizing a needle if you leave the issue with a leather vehicle seat auto shop. If you are taking care of the seat fix all alone, you should bring the leather fix pack.

On the most proficient method to fix a massive tear in the leather vehicle seats, you will begin by cleaning the spot, putting a lot of accentuation on the torn district, to dispose of earth. Warm water and gentle cleanser will do well with regards to cleaning. Your fix list needs to incorporate things, for example, a coordinating leather color, segments of coordinating leather pieces, leather glue, leather needle, and a string.

When you have the region cleaned, cut the jutting strings utilizing some scissors or a sharp edge. At that point, sand the sides of the tear using a grating stone or a scratch document if you have one. Take the more prominent leather strip and fix it inside the large opening, with the goal that it is secured.

Apply some leather glue to join it appropriately and let it dry for like thirty minutes. Apply more glue on the edge of the split and connect another strip to cover the break altogether. The covering leather strip additionally needs some sanding on its fringes for a legitimate fit.

Keeping up the Patchwork

In the wake of sticking the patches together, you have to allow it to dry. Close the vehicle window to forestall the section of earth or other material, for example, dampness, which can meddle with the fixes. The leather glue might be excessively solid to the smell, so you can kill it utilizing some leather deodorizer.

If that the tear is broad, you should bring your closing game to fix it up with needle and string. The string ought to be of a similar shading as the leather seat or taking after the upholstery sewing.

Substitution Of The Entire Section Of The Seat

Another route on the best way to fix vehicle seat upholstery is the substitution of the whole area of the seat. Most leather seats have allotments, and you can slice through this segment to dispose of the harmed part. It is a recommendable technique if there should arise an occurrence of broad seat harm, for example, consumes or extended breaks and tears.

A carport is the best spot to search for this administration as it is best taken care of by an expert. If you need to fix it yourself, you need an attached pack containing instruments, for example, leather cream, leather needle and string, a grating device, and an edge or scissors, among others.

Utilizing the sharp edge, you fix the interwoven of the seat by slicing through its string. Your expel the torn fix and bring a substitution, which should be of the specific sort as the leather seat. Utilize some cream on the edges to the soft leather, at that point, apply some glue along the edges.

Sew along the edges to fix the new leather area. Be mindful so as not to penetrate your finger while at it. At the point when done, apply some cream to the seat to make it sturdier.

Support Of Your Leather Car Seats

The fix of leather vehicle seats is expensive, and you should delve further into your pockets to have the seats fit as a fiddle. To check such costs, the ideal approach is to follow an exacting upkeep system.

Coming up next are a portion of the upkeep rehearses that you can follow to protect your leather vehicle seats.

I was cleaning with warm water and mellow cleanser. Solid cleansers may consume the leather and affix its wear procedure. You can likewise utilize a leather cleaner.

Apply leather cream to the surface routinely to forestall breaks and tears.

Dodge direct daylight introduction. The destructive beams may likewise animate the wearing procedure.

Use vehicle seat spreads to forestall soil and dampness on your chairs, mainly when not being used.

Every so often applies some leather paint to recapture the shade of your seats. In any case, don't exaggerate the paintwork as it might meddle with the vibe of your places.

Leather cream is one fix pack you should continuously stock. The best leather fix cream is the ideal armory when seeing how to reestablish dry leather seats.

Last Word

Leather vehicle seats are excellent choices for seat upholstery, studying the comfort, solidness, and tastefulness components. They serve you for long with no noticeable indications of wear; in any case, when you detect an imperfection, you have to act quickly before it gets serious.

This article takes a gander at a portion of the different approaches to manage flaws, for example, tears and breaks and how to keep up the seats. The leather vehicle seat fix unit Autozone is one center to get the necessary materials to keep your seats and guarantee they sport the best shape consistently.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian - “Put it in Writing” (Rated NC17)

Sebastian loses Kurt in a horrible car accident, but is anyone really lost if you remember them? (3562 words)

Notes: I had written this a while ago and posted it under my collection of one-shots. A few months ago, I updated it. I've decided to post it separately just because. I’m making a new tumblr post because tumblr won’t let me edit the original for some reason.

Read on AO3.

Phantom pain.

It’s a ridiculous name for what he’s going through. The term phantom pain makes it sound more like he gained a demonic spirit, when in reality he lost a limb. His right arm - gone. Now he’s going to have to become romantically acquainted with his left hand. He gives it a shot when he finally gets a moment alone; when the nurses and doctors leave his room and he has a rare precious second to himself. He breathes in deep and exhales out slowly through tight lips. He reaches beneath his hospital gown. The first time he thought about masturbating here, he was cockblocked by a catheter. Now that they pulled it, he is free to try and jerk off at his leisure. He wraps his fingers, weak and shaky, around his flaccid cock. Lying in the uncomfortable hospital bed, he shifts awkwardly, trying to find a position that works better, that gives him a little leverage to compensate for muscles that refuse to work, but that’s not the problem. He’s never done this with his left hand before. It feels too foreign; not even like himself doing it, but a stranger.

It doesn’t matter.

It’s not the hand he wants.

He lets go and rolls onto his side, giving up.

He shuts his eyes and goes over the schedule for the day in his head.

Plans made for his release.

Preparations for outpatient physical and occupational therapy.

Psych evaluations.

Support groups.

A brand new apartment.

All ways of getting over his loss and moving on.

But the doctors are wrong, each and every one of them wrong.

The phantom pain that incapacitates him has nothing to do with his missing arm and everything to do with his missing heart, lying on a gurney and locked in the refrigerator (the nurse’s words, not his) down in the morgue.

Kurt … waiting for Sebastian to come down and say goodbye.

Sebastian’s brother arrives after lunch to take him home.

Well, not home really, but the place he’ll be living for now on.

His parents can’t make it. Like with every monumental event in his life, they are abroad, escaping responsibility and reality by getting as far away from the situation as possible. This once, Sebastian can’t blame them. He doesn’t have much to say on behalf of his parents, but with all of their faults, there was one thing they did right.

They loved Kurt, too.

In the end, Sebastian can’t say goodbye. He gets into the elevator with his brother holding his hand and a sympathetic female nurse smiling supportively by his side. But as they descend, as he sees the passing floors (when the doors open and other passengers get on and off) become emptier and darker, he feels a weight settle over him. The air becomes chill. Everything becomes quieter.

And Sebastian can feel ghosts watching him.

Two floors above their intended destination, Sebastian starts to hyperventilate. He pushes the red stop button and collapses to the floor, sobbing and choking like a lost child. He doesn’t want to see his husband because it won’t be him. It’s not Kurt lying on a metal slab in some dark box keeping him cold. It’s just a body, a corpse. It won’t have his heat, his smell, his smile, his beautiful blue eyes, and his voice that will haunt Sebastian until the day he turns up his toes and joins him.

The nurse and his brother argue, voices muffled, as if he’s hearing them from beneath a pool of water, and Sebastian’s drowning while they’re debating whether he should go back to his room or go home. His brother wins, pushing the button for the lobby and practically carrying Sebastian away, with the disgruntled nurse padding after them, muttering her objections until she realizes it won’t do any good and lets them go.

Sebastian falls asleep in the back seat of his brother’s rented town car with his head on his brother’s shoulder. He doesn’t remember knocking out, but mere seconds after sitting on the leather upholstery, his brother shakes him awake.

Sebastian wishes he hadn’t.

With his face tilted toward the sunlight, he was dreaming about lying on the beach beside Kurt, holding hands and listening to the waves hit the shore.

When he opens his eyes, the bright day outside meets the brightness behind his eyes, but the real world is much more bleak.

“Come on,” his brother says softly. “Come see your new home.”

Sebastian gets out of the care and follows him, but he feels so far from it.

Sebastian doesn’t really know where they are, only that it’s in the same building as his brother and sister-in-law. A new apartment, still smelling of fresh carpet and paint, and not a single shred of his old life to be found – no pictures, none of Kurt’s carefully chosen furnishings, none of Kurt’s clothing or accessories or toiletries. Theoretically, a brand new start, a completely clean slate, but it’s not. The ghosts followed Sebastian there, and he finds himself, night after night, awake on the sofa watching Korean soap operas, needing the verbal static to keep him sane.

His first week alone is nothing more than one long day punctuated by stretches of dark in between and a myriad of appointments so similar and unexceptional that they all bleed one into the other. A taxi takes him to doctor A, and an hour later from doctor A to doctor B, and again an hour later to doctor C. It’s like déjà vu, starting from the drop off at the curb, to the long, musty elevator rides, to the exact same looking office in seven different buildings, sitting on similar, brown leather sofas, kept company by familiar-looking potted ferns, and gazing blankly out identical, rectangular windows.

Each doctor/counselor has their own spin on his situation, each appointment capped off with the gift of a journal to chronicle his struggle, his pain.

Acknowledge that it’s real. Put it in writing.

“It’s okay to talk about your feelings.” journal

“It’s okay to keep it inside.” journal

“It’s okay to reach out to others and ask for help.” journal

“It’s okay to be alone, take time for yourself.” journal

And his favorite of the bunch: “The universe/fate/God has a plan. There are no accidents. Everything happens for a reason, even if you can’t see it yet. Live your life, continue on, and eventually, it will become clear.” journal, journal, journal

Because of that final platitude, Sebastian starts doing things that have absolutely no rhyme or reason.

He walks into the kitchen in the morning, fills his mug with hot coffee, and leaves it on the counter. An hour later, he returns and knocks it to the floor, letting it shatter into a hundred pieces. Then he walks away from the mess, leaving it to ruin the tile.

The next day, he buys a box of donuts - a baker’s dozen, courtesy of the young woman behind the counter, who makes heart eyes at him, even though he grunts when he talks to her and looks like the walking dead – sits on his living room floor, and devours them one by one. He shoves them in his mouth whole, barely chews, then forces the large pieces down his throat with painful gulps. Later on, he throws it all back up. He doesn’t eat anything else for the rest of the day.

The day after that, he goes to every thrift store he can find within walking distance of his apartment and buys every used knife they sell. When he has more than enough to open his own abattoir, he returns home and starts jamming the blades into the walls. It takes all his strength but he does it anyway, lines the hallways and the living room, stabbing straight through the dry wall, ending in the bedroom where he does the most damage – three hundred and fifty two knives in total - until his palm is blistered and the space between his thumb and forefinger bleed.

He goes back to his soaps and doesn’t look at the knives again till bedtime.

When it comes time to pack it in for the night, he follows the path they make, brushing his bruised palms along the handles, but stops in the doorway of his bedroom when his attention is drawn to the far wall. He was certain he had stabbed the wall randomly, but instead he had created a mosaic in cutlery of a single word – Kurt.

Sebastian doesn’t go back into the bedroom for several days after that, not until his brother and a few friends come over, remove all the knives, and repair the walls.

From that day on, Sebastian refuses to leave his apartment. He doesn’t go to the doctors. He doesn’t visit his brother. He doesn’t get his mail or answer the door when anyone comes to call. He doesn’t shave or change out of his pajamas. He doesn’t even bathe. One evening, he discovers that his normal Korean soap has gone on hiatus and has been replaced with some game show where contestants take bites out of random objects in a room to see which ones are made out of chocolate.

For the first time in over a month, he turns off the TV.

He collects up the journals, seven in all, and stacks them in the center of the living room. Then he sits down with the column of journals in front of him. He takes the first one, opens it, and tears the pages from the spine one by one. It’s difficult at first, having to hold the journal open with his leg and grab the pages with his least used hand, but soon he gets a rhythm going. He concentrates on the sound of paper rending, the thud-thud-thud as he slowly pulls it from the binding, or the loud screech when he rips it out quickly.

With the first journal in shreds, he tosses the binding aside and does the same to each of the remaining journals, tearing the pages out as time ticks by around him. His hand is sore when he reaches the final journal, but that doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care if it hurts. He doesn’t care if it gets stuck in the garbage disposal, or chewed off by a dog. He doesn’t really use it for anything worthwhile, doesn’t contribute to the world at large. He’s more than likely never going to play an instrument in his lifetime, couldn’t care less if he doesn’t play Overwatch or Fortnite with his brother the way he’s been begging Sebastian to since he got out of the hospital.

And he sure as hell is never going to touch his husband again.

He might as well chop off the useless fucking thing.

He opens the last journal and grabs the top corner of the first page, preparing to rip, but then he looks at the page and stops. All of the journals before this one had been identical – black faux leather covers and lined pages, as if there was some grief relief supply store that every doctor shopped at and bought these things in bulk, wholesale no less. But this final journal was a light, walnut brown color, the binding soft instead of rigid, and the pages edged in gold. He can’t remember which of the otherwise nameless PhD’s had given him this one – the grief counselor with the gold-rimmed glasses and the tremulous little smile, or the body dysmorphia counselor who was once a drill sergeant in the marines before he lost both his legs and found his higher calling. Either way, something about this journal speaks to him, and no matter how hard he tries (and he does try), he can’t tear a single page.

Sebastian stares at the empty pages. Without much thought, he stands up and carries the journal with him to the bedroom. He digs through a forest of amber prescription bottles in his bedside table and finds a black ballpoint pen. He sits on the bed and opens the journal to the first blank page, holding the pen above it. Several times he tries to write, and each time he stops. More than once he considers giving up and tossing the journal into the trash, but a voice in his head, a distant whisper, convinces him not to. He sighs and writes the first thing he thinks of.

This sucks.

He looks at the two words and scoffs. He remembers one of the counselors telling him he should try writing a list of the things he likes and dislikes about his life now. He can’t come up with a single like, but the dislikes flow from his pen like The River Styx.

Living alone sucks.

Instant coffee sucks.

Holes in my walls suck.

Midtown Manhattan sucks.

He looks at the list and grimaces. It’s far too simplistic to describe what he’s feeling.

It sucks that nothing smells the same without you.

It sucks that I’ll never have your Nutella crepes again.

It sucks that the last thing I said to you was, “Fucking shut up! I’m taking the L.I.E. and that’s that!”

It sucks that you were right, and that I didn’t listen to you … that I never listened to you.

He looks at the list again. He runs a hand over his eyes, wiping away the tears from his cheeks that start falling.

It sucks that I don’t have a single recording of you singing.

It sucks that I let Charlie give away all of your clothes, and send all of our photos to your dad.

It sucks that I didn’t tell you enough how much I really loved you.

The list becomes longer, the words not just written, but etched into the paper as he presses harder, nearly tearing through the pages.

It sucks that I was such a coward that I couldn’t even say goodbye to you.

It sucks that we hadn’t made love for two days before you died.

It sucks that we never had that daughter you always wanted, and I was too stubborn to get you a fucking cat.

He’s sobbing uncontrollably by the time the book is halfway full, tears – some angry, some heavy with regret – wetting his face, his shirt, the pages. His handwriting is indecipherable, and sometimes not even in English, but there comes a point when he can’t think of anything else to say, and his hand shakes so badly (seeing as he wasn’t left-handed to begin with, and now he has to make due) that he doesn’t have the strength to continue writing anymore.

He drops the pen and tries to read the final entry, but he can’t hold the pages back with one shaking hand, so he tosses the journal over the side of the bed and crawls beneath the comforter, his entire body trembling with agony and despair. He’s been a fighter his whole life, but he doesn’t want to fight, not when there’s nothing to fight for anymore.

When there’s nobody in his life that makes the fighting worthwhile.

Without even realizing it, he’s made a decision for the rest of his life. He just needs to find a way to carry it out.

He falls asleep, but he doesn’t dream.

Instead he plans.

He’s getting better at making plans and lists. He’s good at dealing with the minutiae and the details.

It’s the implementing he needs to practice more, but luckily he only needs one try to get this right.

The sun rises and for once he rises with it. He opens his bedside table and takes out the forest of pill bottles – sleeping pills, anti-depressants, pain relievers, stool softeners. He chuckles at the idea of overdosing on pills prescribed to make him regular while he lines up all the bottles and turns his forest into an army. He reaches for a tall, thin bottle, at peace with himself for the first time since he’s left the hospital. He flips open the cap, preparing to down the whole thing, but a flash of brown catches his eye.

A shade of walnut brown that distinctly looks like the color of Kurt’s hair.

Sebastian’s body reacts, going rigid at first, and then dissolving with relief. He turns his head, flush with happiness, ready to greet his husband, willing to accept that everything that’s happened in the last few months was just some horrible dream, even while his rational brain prepares him for the truth.

It’s not Kurt. Of course it’s not Kurt. These stories never have a happy ending.

It’s the journal.

Sebastian turns his head and sees the abandoned journal lying on the carpet where he had tossed it. Except, not exactly where he remembers it landing, but that hardly matters. He should ignore it and continue on with his plan, but like the night before, there’s something about it that Sebastian can’t force himself to ignore. He stops mid-mouthful of what he discovers with amusement is actually a bottle of Vitamin D, and slides off the mattress onto the floor. He picks up the journal, better able to handle it now that his hand isn’t shaking. He opens to the first page and sees the words he wrote, sloppy and slanted incorrectly, but relatively clear.

This sucks.

Sebastian has no intention of reading every word he wrote. Some of them aren’t even legible. He catches snippets and pieces here and there among the miasma that make sense.

I miss you.

I can’t live without you.

I love you.

Sebastian stops on four words nestled within the sloppy mess. They stand out because the handwriting is perfect - a graceful flourish of one letter morphing into the next, but most of all, because they are written in response to his own words:

I love you, too.

Sebastian squints, dumbfounded, but decides to let it go. He was frantic last night. Much of what he knows is his own handwriting looks alien. He catches more words and blurbs and phrases, some of them out-of-place and patently ridiculous, because they had been resolved and forgotten long ago … or so he thought.

I should have danced with you that night at Scandals.

I didn’t really want anything to do with Blaine.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.

I wanted so much to make you jealous.

Again, another phrase, written in response to his confession, catches his attention:

I know.

Sebastian’s heart starts to speed. He’s finally gone mad. He was going mad before, but the 2,000 mg of Vitamin D he swallowed must have tipped him over the edge, and now – visual hallucinations.

Were visual hallucinations a side-effect of too much Vitamin D? Didn’t one of the counselors warn him about that? Which one? The guy with the unfortunate long neck who looked like an ostrich, or the woman with one too many face lifts to be real?

He flips through the journal to pages where words are steadily replaced by deep, dark marks that look like scars, until he finds something that’s clear enough to read:

I’m scared that you were never really proud to be with me.

… with another separate response scrawled into the margin:

I was always proud to be with you.

Sebastian flips to the end. He knows there’s probably more in the middle, but he needs to know how it ends. He used to do this with novels before he read them, and it always drove Kurt completely up a wall. But Sebastian couldn’t help it.

He was too embarrassed to admit it, but he needed to know that everything turned out all right in the end.

He gets to the last few pages and finds the last passage he wrote.

I can’t do this. I don’t want to be alone. I need to end it now.

Sebastian gasps, hardly able to believe that he wrote those words. He definitely feels them, but to see them written so plainly makes it too real.

Kurt is dead, and Sebastian wants, more than anything, to be dead, too.

He sees the words in his peripheral vision before he registers their meaning, and he smiles – a true, honest smile. His face has become so unused to the concept that his cheeks hurt. He takes his time, savoring the idea of them being there before he flicks his eyes down the page. And when he reads them, he can hear Kurt’s voice scolding him in his head:

Sebastian Smythe! Don’t you dare do anything so stupid! This isn’t the life I wanted for you, baby. Now get off your ass and for the sake of all that is good and sacred in this world … take a shower!

Sebastian laughs for a long time while he reads and re-reads those words. He’s not completely convinced that he didn’t write them himself in his agitated state, but it’s nice to think that maybe, just maybe, Kurt was with him somehow - in a thought, a dream, or a few words in a journal, still with him.

Then Sebastian notices words further down the page, words he can swear weren’t there a second ago.

But there they are now, and that makes all the difference.

Oh, darling. If you remember me, I’ll always be with you.

[leather-2]

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[waterstar2016]

Hey Friend! Here's my prompt for you: Reader is Leonardo's girlfriend. She's been selected as a vocal soloist in Carnegie Hall, a famous opera house in New York. She's worried that she won't be able to not choke because of stage fright, but of course the brothers secretly agree to watch her from their "special spots" and she kills it out there. Mikey even records it. So they go without her knowing and she feels guilty about her words to them, unaware of the surpise.

Thank you for this lovely request! I hope you like it!

SFW…there is a slight bedroom reference…FLUFF fic!

“Leo, I know you want to be there for me, but we’ve already gone through this. There is too much of a chance that you guys will get caught. I’m already nervous enough as it is.” Leo narrowed his eyes and sighed. They had been having his argument all week. He was so proud of her that she’d gotten selected to sing at Carnegie hall, but she was a nervous wreck, fearing she would choke during her performance. All he wanted to do was to be there for her.

She was pacing and he reached out and pulled her into his plastron, resting his head on hers. He ran his fingers through her hair, trying to calm her. “I understand love, and I promise I won’t do anything to upset you.” Her eyes met his and a small smile graced her beautiful face. “Thank you, Leo.” His face lowered to hers and captured her mouth. For a moment she forgot all her worries, she was lost in the exquisite feeling of his kiss.

It was time for her to leave to go home and get ready. She said her goodbyes to Leo and his brothers and started making her way home.

“Donnie, you’ve got to find a way to get us in there.” Donnie looked up at his older brother and grinned. “I already have Leo. Here look at this.” Leo leaned over Donnie’s shoulder and saw on the halls website the notice that the top balcony was closed for renovations. The hall was going to be making repairs to the floor. “Perfect, now what about getting in?” Donnie tapped a few more keys. “It works in our favour that her performance will be dark, all we have to do is get in through the maintenance door on the west side, and we can take the back way to the top balcony. Piece of cake.” Leo rested his hand on Donnie’s shoulder and smiled.

She took the dress out of its bag and held it up in front of her. It was gorgeous. Layers of chiffon cascaded out at the waist from a tank style top. The colour was in honour of him, and it made her feel like a part of him was with her. It was ombre, starting with a blue so light it was almost white at the shoulders and slowly changed to a navy at the bottom of the skirt.

Rummaging in her purse for the earrings she bought her fingers brushed against a piece of material. Grabbing it she pulled it out and gasped when she realized what it was. Leo had given her part of the Tsuka-ito that trailed from his Katana. She closed her eyes as she felt tears well. Taking a deep breath to control the emotions coursing though her she started to get ready. As a finishing touch to her outfit she had tied the strip of leather that Leo had given her around her left wrist.

Taking one last look in the mirror she left her apartment, locked the door and headed out to the car the hall had sent to pick her up in. Gazing out the window at the city as she rode in the back seat she concentrated on slow deep breaths. Arriving at the hall, her door was opened for her and she was escorted to a room to wait until it was her turn to perform. Instead of practicing she let her mind drift to the night she met him.

Her and her friend were out for their nightly jog. For safety sake her friends boyfriend always accompanied them, but far enough away that they had some privacy. Pony tails swinging they had been running for about 30 minutes when a muffled “Oomph” came from behind them. They stopped and turned around. Her friend screamed when she saw her boyfriend unconscious on the ground.

Suddenly she felt arms wrap around her waist and cringed when a voice that reeked of booze whispered in her ear. “If you want your friend and her boyfriend to stay alive you will come with me, got it?” She stomped on his foot as hard as she could and he screamed in agony. “I’m going to make you regret that, bitch.” The thug called for his friends. She closed her eyes.

Nothing happened. He called again. “Get your asses out here you sorry pieces of…” His voice was suddenly cut off and she was released. Turning slowly she was faced with a broad chest covered in what looked like bamboo armour. She saw him sheath two Katana’s at his back. Then she met his eyes. They were the most incredible blue she had ever seen and they were staring at her just as intently as she was looking at him.

He wasn’t human. In fact it looked to be some kind of mutant turtle. Closing her eyes and shaking her head she tried to calm herself. Whoever he was, he had just saved her and her friends life. Opening her eyes she met his gaze. “I know I should be freaking out right now, but for some reason I’m not.” Thank you.” The blue eyes glittered “You’re welcome, my name is Leonardo, but you may call me Leo. My brother Donnie behind you is making sure your friends are ok. He is still unconscious and she fainted.”

The one named Raphael called an ambulance and when it arrived the four hid in the shadows. After a quick check up at the hospital she was told to go home and get some rest. Her friends boyfriend had received a severe concussion so her was being kept overnight. Hugging her friend goodbye she headed home.

She had just made a cup of tea and turned on the t.v when she heard a knock at her balcony door. “What in the hell?” She was on the tenth floor. Cautiously she went to the window and looked out. It was Leo. Smiling she opened the door. “How did you find me?” Leo looked at her and grinned. “My brothers and I followed the ambulance to the hospital, after you were released I sent them home and I followed you here. I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

After that night Leo would stop by to visit a couple of times a week. A couple of months later they were talking on her rooftop. That night their evening had ended with a kiss. Now almost a year later, she had never felt more in love. The door to the room opened “Miss, please follow me, you will be performing in ten minutes.”

Taking a deep breath she stood up and followed the young man to the entrance of the stage. Listening to the performer ahead of her she tried calming her nerves. What if she lost her voice, what if she froze, what if she tripped walking out onto the stage? Feeling a full on panic attack about to overtake her she started running the Tsuka-ito through her fingers. Breathing like Leo had taught her she calmed herself. Just in time too, she heard her name being announced.

Unknowing to her the four brothers were already up on the closed off balcony. They had made it in without any trouble. Leo looked at Mikey out of the corner of his eye and Mikey cringed. It was a good thing the stage hands believed in ghosts or else there would have been trouble. He was going to have to get Mikey to practice being more stealthy.

Raph nudged his shoulder. “Hey bro, you’re gonna want to look at the stage now, they’ve just called her name.” Nodding his thanks to Raph, Leo turned his attention to the stage and Mikey turned on the recording device that he managed to convince Donnie to bring. His mouth fell open as he saw her step gracefully across the stage.

Grabbing for the binoculars that Donnie had brought he peered through them to get a better look. She was magnificent. The dress flowed over her like a waterfall and he felt his chest constrict when he saw the Tsuka-ito tied at her wrist. Even from this distance he knew she was nervous, he could tell by the way she was standing. He whispered into the dark. “Tenshi, you can do this, I believe in you.”

She could barely see the audience. The light from above was so bright it made it hard to see. Gripping the leather in her hand she closed her eyes as the first chords of the song “Entreat Me Not To Leave You” broke the silence of the hall from the small orchestra to the side of the stage. Letting the music flow through her she let herself be absorbed into the music. Thinking of him she opened her mouth and poured her heart and soul into the melodic words that flowed from between her lips.

“Entreat me not to leave you, nor to turn back from following after you. For where you will go, I will go. And where you live, I will live…”

The audience was so enraptured by the sound of her voice, nary a breath could be heard from ones neighbour. Even Raphael had his eyes closed. One individual in particular stared in open mouthed wonder as his girl, his Tenshi, made everyone in the audience fall in love with her. She was so beautiful and her voice, a gift from angels.

Her solo ended, and for a second there was only silence. Then the audience roared. Roses of every colour were tossed onto the stage. She curtsied. Smiling she waved to the audience while a singe tear slid down her cheek. She did it! Rubbing the leather with her thumb she closed her eyes and whispered “Thank you, Leo.”

After her performance she was approached by so many people. Everyone wanted to shake her hand and she was hearing requests for future performances. Hearing a cultured voice behind her she turned. “Lovely performance my dear, I’m hoping you’ll grace us again with your voice at the 127th anniversary show? She nodded eagerly. For the person that was talking to her was no other than Sir Clive Gillinson, the Executive and Artistic Director of Carnegie Hall. “I would be honoured, Sir.”

After a glass of wine at the after party she made her farewells and got in the car to head home. Arriving at her apartment she unlocked the door and walked in. Leaning against her door she close her eyes and smiled. She had actually done it! Her hands flew to her mouth when she opened her eyes and saw four large figures standing in her living room.

“Congratulations on your performance tonight!” The four yelled in unison. Heart hammering in her throat she shook her head. “Guys! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Leo approached her and ran his finger under her chin. “You were amazing.” She smiled. “Thank you, Leo, wait, how did you..?” Her eyes narrowed and she poked him in the plastron. “You promised not to come!” Leo smirked. “No, I promised not to do anything to upset you, and you were obviously pleased with our surprise.”

“Semantics! I’m upset now! You could have been seen!” Leo just laughed. “Now doesn’t count.” She noticed that his brothers were slowly walking away. “O, no you don’t, you three stay right where you are.” Raph cringed, Mikey gulped and Donnie squinted. Donnie turned to face her. “In Leo’s defense there was less than a 2.345% chance that we would get caught. The uppermost balcony was closed for renovations.” Donnie left out Mikey’s lack of stealthiness when he kicked a bucket in the back walkway.

Sighing in defeat she shook her head. A wry smile graced her features and the brothers relaxed. ”I should have figured you guys would find away to get in.” Leo put his arm around her waist and whispered in her ear. “We’re ninja’s, of course we did.” Leo stepped in front of her and his blue eyes met hers. “Tenshi, there is nothing that would have stopped me from seeing you tonight.”

Leo led her to a table. In the center was a large bouquet of deep blue Asters along with a smaller one that was made up of red, purple and orange roses. Suddenly she heard herself singing. “You recorded it?” Mikey shyly approached her. “Of course Sweet Cheeks, you were amazing.” Stepping out of Leo’s arms she hugged Mikey, and then Raph and Donnie. “Thank you guys.”

An hour had past and Raph made motions that it was time to go. Mikey only complained a little. Leo nodded to his brothers as they left through the balcony door.

Leo grasped her hand with the blue Tsuka-ito wrapped around it and rubbed the leather. “I’m glad you wore this.” She met his eyes and rested her hands on his broad shoulders. “Leo, that piece of leather gave me strength tonight. Thank you.” She started unravelling it from her wrist and Leo put his hand over hers, stopping her. “Keep it. I have lots of extra back at the lair. It will be a reminder to you that I am always with you no matter where you are.”

His words echoed the song that she had sung that night and her heart filled with love. Leo leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Once again she was lost in the feel of him.

He pulled away and held her hands in his. “Tenshi, sing me to sleep tonight?” She smiled. “Of course my love.” Hand in hand they walked towards her bedroom door. Yes, tonight he would make her body sing, and then her voice would sing her wonderful leader in blue to sleep.

End.

[yehet-me-up]

Don’t Call It a Love Song

Pairing: Kim Minseok (Xiumin) x Reader (female)

Rating: (M) for swearing and explicit sex

Word Count: 16,808

Summary: It’s been two years since you opened the bookstore across from KMS Music. Two long years of falling in love with its sexy and sarcastic owner, never imagining that he might feel the same. You’ve always preferred fiction over reality; books and stories just seemed to be inexplicably better, and safer, than real life. But when an unexpected present is delivered on your store’s two year anniversary, you think you might have found the one person who can tempt you to leave the fantasy world and chase something real.

Part one of the Exodus Mall series! (Can be read independently, but you’ll get some extra backstory if you read the other parts first!)

February 4th, 1995

It’s a cold and rainy day. You’re driving around, desperately searching for a music store. You wonder if you’ve brought on the downpour with your own torrential mood. 

“On Bended Knee” by Boyz II Men starts playing on the radio, for what feels like the thousandth time that day. Their beautiful voices are normally a guilty pleasure for you, but today, in all your fury, they feel mocking instead.

You don’t want sweet. You want angry, you want pissed off; something to match the swirling emotions inside of you. You jam your hand against the power button and suddenly the only sound in the car is your sniffling. Disgusted, you grab a tissue from your purse and dab your eyes, new tears welling in your frustration. 

You can’t take it any more, working with that pig, that asshole. Seven long years you’ve worked for Dalton Books and for it’s owner Jason Dalton.

You started working there the day you turned eighteen, saving every penny you could. Long night and weekend shifts to put yourself through college. Thanks to a combination of scholarships and that job you managed to graduate debt free three years ago. Since then you’d been relentlessly building your savings in hopes of one day achieving your dream of opening your own business. 

For years you’d been applying for promotions at the bookstore, anything to make more money so that you could make your dream a reality sooner. And for years Jason Dalton has been passing you over for whatever girl he’s currently interested in sleeping with, after you made it abundantly clear you weren’t going to take him up on that offer.

You dreaded having to look for another job, so close to reaching your savings goal. But just this morning you learned that instead of promoting you to the open supervisor position he’d given the job to Megan, who’d been there a whopping three months. Unbelievable. Everyone loved you; the regular customers, the whole staff – senior and new, the vendors. You worked your ass off and always showed up with a fantastic attitude. 

Everyone knew you deserved to be promoted, but as it’s a family owned store there’s no one to go to; no HR, no higher manager to complain to. So you sucked it up and worked your shift and then drove off in search of some music to drown your sorrows.

A single story mall up ahead on the right catches your eye. A neon sign, purple with white lettering and a lightning bolt symbol in the center, shines from the closest store. KMS Music it reads and you merge into the turn lane abruptly, thanking the universe that there was no one next to you. 

You pull into the mall, admiring it’s modern black and chrome exterior, and easily find a spot out front. You sling your purse across your shoulder, adjust your denim skirt and flip down your mirror. Mascara is running down your cheeks in two black streaks. You groan and clean it up with another tissue, wetting it on your tongue. Finally presentable, you get out of the car and slam the door.

You stride across the lot and pull open the door, stepping inside onto a deep purple carpet. “Money” by Pink Floyd is playing from the speakers on the wall. You sigh in relief, no sweet pop music for you today. 

The store is spacious, orderly. Rows and rows of sleek black wood racks hold CDs, records, and posters. Colorful picture discs hang down from the ceiling, creating a bright mosaic that draws your eye. 

Remembering your purpose, you look around the store, trying to find the best category that might hold what you need.

“Can I help you find something?” a man says from the counter to your right, his hands paused in sorting through receipts. 

Inwardly you curse your luck. Of course you run into the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen on a day you look like a complete wreck. Messy black hair, piercing dark eyes, vintage Led Zeppelin shirt, tight jeans tucked into faded Doc Martens. 

He’s leaning against the counter like some off-duty rock God. When you realize you’ve been staring at him for several seconds you blush and look down. Gathering yourself together you look back up to where he’s still regarding you with a raised eyebrow, waiting.

“Yes, actually,” you start, your voice thick from all the crying. You clear your throat and carry on. “I’m having a totally awful day. What do you have in the way of angry rock? The louder the better.”

His eyes widen and his gaze roams down your body, taking in your conservative denim skirt, soft green sweater, and twin braids. You glance at the customer currently paying at the register, a tall man with a sky high red mohawk and studded leather jacket; it’s safe to assume that you’re not the type of customer he usually sees. 

He gives you a smirk and sets down his receipts, sauntering toward you. “Right this way,” he says, walking over to the CD racks labeled “Rock & Roll.”

He leans against the nearest rack on one hip, tilting his head as he starts naming off bands. A lightning bolt tattoo, a matching design to the one on the store’s sign, peeks out from behind his ear as he leans forward. “If you’re looking for straight up angry rock we’ve got some AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Metallica, Nine Inch Nails, Twisted Sister. Any of this sounding appealing?”

You draw your lip in with your teeth, considering. None of those sound quite right, but you’re not able to articulate exactly what you’re looking for. 

“Or, I have an idea. How about some angry girl rock? Hole – Miss World,” he says, handing you the CD. “Or maybe some Garbage?” His agile fingers flip through the racks, pulling out another CD and placing it in your hands.

“Hmm, no, wait. I’ve got it.” He takes the other two from your hands and puts them back, walking down and selecting another CD. “Alanis Morissette – Jagged Little Pill.” 

He slides out the case and walks over to a listening station. With precision he unwraps the case and pops the disc in the machine. He takes the headphones off the rack and hands them to you. You slip them over your ears and the world is instantly muffled. He leans in, hitting the play button and then the skip button to queue up the second song.

The instant the chorus kicks in to “You Oughta Know” you decide that he’s right, this is exactly what you need. 

Throughout the song he remains close, watching you gently bob your head along to the music, his intense eyes never leaving your face. The song finishes and you slide the headphones down to rest on your neck. 

“It’s perfect, I’ll take it,” you say, giving him a grin and a thumbs up.

His face breaks into a satisfied smile in return, showing his gums, making him look years younger. Maybe the rock God has a soft side, you think.

“Fantastic,” he says, ejecting the disc as you put the headphones back on the stand. 

He walks you to the register and starts ringing you up. You can’t help but observe every detail of him, separated by only a narrow counter. The sharpness of his jaw. The outline of his chest through the faded shirt. His easy, effortless air of confidence. 

You’ve been working for your dreams for so long you can’t even remember the last time you were seriously attracted to someone. College maybe? Those six months you spent with Zach junior year? God, has it really been that long? you wonder.

“I hope you have a better day,” he says gently, handing you the CD and your receipt, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

“Thanks, I think I will now,” you reply, taking your purchase and slipping it into your purse. He nods to you as you step away from the counter, breaking the spell his presence cast over you.

Rather than heading back to your car you turn the other way, wandering out into the mall. 

It must have been here this whole time, only a ten minute drive or so from your apartment, but you’ve never been in before. The walls are a crisp white color, the floors an off-white marble tile. Potted plants, tables, and groups of dark leather chairs provide seating areas every few feet.

Walking toward the center of the mall you see what looks like an antiques store next to the music store. Its windows are packed with an assortment of goods stacked precariously; an organized chaos of books, clothing, and smaller decorative furniture. The sign above reads Guardians est. 1994. 

Next to that is a busy Starbucks, a line of customers trailing out into the mall as they wait to grab their caffeine fix. The far end holds a large department store, bustling with foot traffic. Across the way you see a narrow jewelry shop with some dazzling diamond and emerald pieces on display. Next to that is a chocolate shop called Sinful, its windows filled with an assortment of what indeed looks like sinful amounts of chocolate.

A loud laugh to the right draws your attention to the large, bustling food court. A crowded pizza parlor in the center has a “Grand Opening” banner hung above its menu board. Some smaller restaurants are scattered around the rest of the space. It’s just about dinner time and the tables are almost full of couples and families talking as they eat. 

Between the food court and where you stand are a handful of other stores. A computer repair shop, a clothing store from a chain you recognize, and an entrance to a sleek looking exercise studio. The block letters on its doors read KOKO. At the far end of the mall, through the open food court, you can see the large neon sign of a movie theater, rows of marquees out front list off the current movies and showtimes.

Finally your observation turns to the store directly across from you. The gate is drawn shut and the lights are off, but you can still see faintly through the large glass windows. A “For Sale” sign is pinned to the gate, listing the contact number for the mall real estate agent. 

Stepping the rest of the way to the store you lift your hand against the glass to block out the glare from the lights, peering into the windows. Rows and rows of dark wood bookshelves line the outside ring. A low, wide counter stretches to the right. Display tables are centered around the middle of the store, looking sad and empty of merchandise.

If you’re honest with yourself, a bookstore has always been your dream, ever since you first read The Hobbit as a child. As the only daughter of two teachers you’d never had a shortage of fictional friends to keep you company. It had killed your parents that they couldn’t afford to help you out with college, but they made sure you never lacked for books on your birthdays and at Christmas.

The store is calling to you in a way you can’t describe. A tingling feeling deep in your bones that this is where you’re meant to be. You have no idea how to go about buying it, whether or not you have enough money, or how on earth you’re going to manage to hire and lead a staff at the age of twenty-five. But you’ve always been practical and able to figure things out. 

You’re normally one to be cautious, to consider all the options thoroughly before making a decision. But today something feels right, something is calling you to take action, now.

You pull out a receipt and a pen from your purse, write down the phone number, and head back to your car full of purpose. The Exodus Mall, you think excitedly, it might just be the perfect place for you. Passing through KMS Music you sadly don’t see any sign of the good looking man who helped you out before. 

You pull out the Alanis Morissette CD as soon as you get into the car and happily rock out on your drive home.

May 7th, 1995

The second time he sees you is an unseasonably warm evening. He looks up from his paperwork and it’s ten on the dot, closing time. Pulling out his keys he does a quick lap of the store to make sure there’s no customers around. 

Satisfied it’s just him and his assistant manager, Alec, he goes to lock the front doors. He pivots and moves to close the gate, bobbing his head to the strains of Jimi Hendrix playing over the speakers. 

He reaches for the gate to the mall to pull it closed, but his attention is drawn across the way by light and sound coming from the previously vacant bookstore. The gate is still closed, but the store is full of activity. Several people are milling around, unpacking boxes; its once empty shelves now partially filled up with neat rows of books.

The upbeat opening bars of “Dancing Queen” by ABBA start coming from inside and the employees give cheers of approval. When you stand up from crouching down to start the CD on the player behind the counter, he recognizes you immediately. 

He smiles to himself, thinking all over again how cute you look with your hair in long twin braids. You notice him staring and give him a small wave, quickly turning away as you’re called over by one of your employees. He stays there for a beat, thinking that of all the people in the world he’d have expected to buy the old Cheshire Bookshop, you’re definitely a pleasant surprise.

Finally he slides the gate closed and locks it, looking up once again to watch you move about the store, speaking to another woman as you gesture to the shelves with wide arms. He observes your side profile as you discuss whatever plans you’re making, remembering how he’d been drawn to you when you stormed into his store months ago.

You’d looked so upset and defeated, he could tell you’d been crying, but you seemed so passionately determined as well. As the manager he doesn’t usually volunteer to help customers, preferring to exist behind the scenes. He chooses the stock, runs the logistics, and hires excellent employees to handle the customers. 

But for some reason he felt compelled to head off Alec and help you himself. It was completely worth it, watching you bite your lip as you considered his selection. Being on the receiving end of your smile as you listened to one of his favorite songs. Feeling satisfied that he’d chosen something that pleased you.

“There a problem, boss?” he hears Alec ask from behind him.

“No. Just checking out our new neighbors,” he says, inclining his head toward the bookstore.

“Oh, nice. I’m glad someone finally bought that place. It’s about time we got some new blood around here,” Alec says and wanders back to closing down the register.

“Yeah,” Minseok says to himself. He shakes his head, smiling, and slides his keys into his pocket. He gives one last look across the mall at you before turning back to all the closing duties that await him.

May 20, 1995

After months of preparation, you’re finally ready to open Greyhame Books for the first time. You’d decided to name it after one of your all time favorite literary characters. You were so nervous in your meeting with the mall real estate manager, wearing your only nice dress; your bank statements and business plan neatly printed out in a folder. 

Luckily the woman you met with, Jill, was a fellow book lover who’d been crushed when the couple that owned the bookstore had decided to retire after their lease ended last Thanksgiving. Your fantastic credit score, sensible attitude, and consistent employment for the past seven years convinced her to take a chance on you. You had just enough money to squeak out a deposit and dashed over to the bank immediately after your meeting to get the money order and to work out a business loan.

The fierce satisfaction you’d felt when you turned in your two weeks notice at Dalton Books later that day had been short lived. Soon it was overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of fear as you looked at your miles-long to do list. 

It was a wobbly start, but eventually you were able to find your footing. Luckily one of your friends from the bookstore had quit a couple of months ago, fed up with Jason, and was still looking for work. Melanie was a few years older than you, smart as all get out and the energy and enthusiasm of a high schooler.

Together you navigated hiring an additional six employees, contacting publishing houses to set up merchandise orders, and working with contractors to give the store a face lift. Blessedly, all of the original fixtures were still in great shape and there were no major repairs to do. 

Now the day is finally here. 

As the minutes count down to nine o’clock you and Mel run around making sure everything looks perfect. When the clock hits nine you nervously unlock the gate to the mall. You take a quick look around the store and feel a surge of pride at what you’ve built and go over to the CD player behind the counter to turn on the radio. 

“This Is How We Do It” by Montel Jordan is just starting when you turn the dial to your favorite station. You smile to yourself, it’s one of your favorite songs, and decide to take it as a good omen.

Moments later a mom comes in with a napping child in a stroller. You greet her and she smiles in response, heading for the mystery section. She’s shortly followed by a group of older women who head for the fiction section, discussing what to choose next for their book club. An older gentleman with a cane gives you a gruff ‘hello’ and walks over to peruse the racks of newspapers. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, your worst fear – that no one would come – is already alleviated. The ladies in fiction call over Melanie, asking for some suggestions and she gives you an excited grin as she walks over. You smile widely back at her, turning to the entrance as a new person walks in.

Your eyes go wide when you realize it’s the incredibly good looking man from the music store next door. Today his hair is dyed an electric blue, tousled up in messy waves. You’re struck all over again by how attractive he is as his intense eyes meet yours.

“Hi!” you say, wincing at how enthusiastic you sound.

He laughs. “Hey, how’s it going? I figured I should officially introduce myself. I’m Minseok and I own KMS Music,” he says and sticks out his hand.

You shake his hand. “Nice to meet you,” you say, and give him your name in return.

“So, has anyone checked out yet?” he asks, pulling out his wallet.

You laugh and check your watch. “In the two minutes we’ve been open? Not yet. Why?” 

“Perfect,” he says with a smirk. ‘I’ll happily be your first customer.’

He looks around at the nearby display table and grabs the first book he sees. He sets it on the counter and you both laugh when you see the title – The Bridges of Madison County by Robert James Walker, the inspiration for the upcoming romance movie starring Meryl Streep.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to choose something else?”

“No, I’m sticking with my choice. Who knows, it might be my new favorite book,” he says ironically and you laugh as you ring him up. 

You stick the receipt in the book and hand it back to him. “Thank you for being my first official customer, I really appreciate it,” you say sincerely, meeting his eyes.

He takes the book under his arm. “Any time. I’m just over there if you need anything,” he says and gives you a nod as he walks back through the mall.

It’s a steady, but successful day and when you finally get home you flop onto your bed. You fall asleep almost immediately, filled to the brim with happiness.

August 9, 1995

Minseok wanders up and down the racks of CDs, straightening things he’s already straightened twice before. It’s a warm summer evening, an hour before closing, and the mall is practically deserted. 

He turns to walk back to the register and he instinctively looks over at your store. Without meaning to, he’s begun to feel quite protective, wanting to make sure things are going well for you. He’s only owned KMS Music for two years, but it still makes him feel like a grizzled business veteran in comparison to you.

When he surreptitiously peeks over into your store he sees you at the counter, one hand cradling your head while the other anxiously sorts through a massive stack of paperwork. You look like you’re on the verge of tearing your hair out. 

He’s taken three steps toward you before he catches himself. He shakes his head, wondering what he was thinking. He runs a hand through his hair, the messy strands falling into disarray once again.

Just be cool, casual. Ask her if she needs help, he tells himself. Looking around the store he confirms that nothing needs his attention. Alec is at the counter, stickering boxes of new merchandise that came in this morning. 

“Hey Alec, watch the store for a bit, I’m stepping out,” he says, jerking his thumb toward the mall. Alec gives him a dramatic thumbs up and goes back to pricing, his head bobbing along to the music.

Minseok walks the distance to your store, praying he’s not going to be just another interruption to you. Your assistant manager Melanie is helping a customer choose a mystery novel and another employee who’s name he doesn’t know is organizing some journals against a display wall. He walks over to the counter and leans against it, placing both hands on the smooth surface.

“How’s it going?” he asks, resting his elbows on the counter and regarding you.

You look up at him with a small smile, tilting your head in your hand and sighing dramatically. “Oh, fine. It’s just – I thought I had such a good accounting system set up. But I can’t get anything to add up and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to sort it out.”

“Want some help? I can’t say I’m an accounting genius, but we’ve got a pretty good system going at the store and I’d be happy to take a look,” he offers, hoping he doesn’t come off as too enthusiastic.

“Really? I don’t want to keep you from anything, but that would be amazing. Even just a second set of eyes would be fantastic,” you say, looking relieved.

“Totally. We’re pretty slow tonight so I’ve got all the time in the world,” he says, shrugging.

“Thank you, Minseok, I’d really appreciate it,” you say and turn to Mel, who’s now shelving some new releases nearby. “Hey, Mel. We’re going to attempt to tackle this paperwork debacle. You mind keeping an eye on things?”

“You got it boss!” she calls and you smile. 

It’s obvious the two of you get along well. He’s happy that you’ve got a good crew around you, impressed with everyone he’s met the few times he’s come in. Picking up the pile of receipts and paperwork you nod your head back to the office and Minseok follows you.

He stops abruptly. “Hang on, if we’re digging into a pile of numbers we’re going to need some reinforcements,” he says and holds up a finger. “I’ll be right back.”

You nod and he walks back to the music store, heading straight for his office. He snags his trusty boombox and walks back through the store. He stops by Alec on his way out. 

“I might be a while over there, if I’m not back by ten are you good to close up?” he asks.

“Sure thing,” Alec says, snapping and giving Minseok two finger guns. 

Minseok laughs, walking back into the mall. Alec might be a bit eccentric, but for all of his quirks he trusts him completely. Entering your store, he walks behind the counter, following the direction you’d gone.

He walks down the short hallway and finds you in the office at the end. There is indeed a pile of paperwork on the desk. Several large, neatly organized piles. You’re sitting behind the desk, hands spread out, looking ready to go into battle. 

Minseok rolls up the sleeves on his shirt as he sits down across from you. He sets up the boombox on the desk and hits play. “We Are The Champions” by Queen starts and you look up and give him a genuine smile.

“All right, what are we working with here?” he asks, rubbing his hands together.

At 10:15 Mel comes in to hand you the keys and the daily cash and paperwork from the registers, saying she locked up. She wishes you both luck with the ‘money crapstorm’ and leaves for the evening.

It takes two hours to sort everything out. Two hours of Minseok’s questions and your answers. Two hours of you surreptitiously sneaking looks at him. Your mouth practically waters every time you take in his chest, visible over the delicious V of his shirt; every time his arms flex as he flips through papers.

After two hours you’ve finally got it all sorted out. A few small mistakes had been the culprit. A batch of accounts payable receipts that got mixed in with the accounts receivable, a stack of vendor invoices had been stuck in a personnel file, and a week’s worth of paychecks that didn’t get properly accounted for. 

He helps you bundle everything up and finally at 11:25 you shut the light off and head out. You unlock the gate and you both step into the mall. After you lock the gate behind you and turn to see that KMS music is dark.

You open your mouth to ask about how his store got closed, but he beats you to it. “Don’t worry, Alec has his own set of keys to close things up when I’m not here,” he says with a wry smile.

You can’t believe how much time and effort the gave up to help you sort this out. Full of gratitude, you lean forward and give him a quick hug. Your arms wrap around his strong back and you lean your chin briefly against his shoulder. 

He lets out a breath in surprise at your enthusiastic movement. One of his arms comes around your back, holding you close for a moment before you both pull back.

“Thanks again, Minseok. I really appreciate it,” you say, blushing, trying to look anywhere but at his face.

“Don’t mention it, I’m happy to help,” he says. You walk in companionable silence to your cars and after he makes sure you’re safely inside, he walks over to his own, giving you a quick wave.

December 24, 1995

Christmas Eve, five in the afternoon. You quickly finish up the paperwork, delighted that the mall closes early tonight, excited about spending the day with your family tomorrow. You’ve been so busy with the store it feels like ages since you’ve had a proper catch up with them. 

You let Mel go an hour earlier, so she could make the train to her boyfriend’s parents for the holiday. Walking a lazy lap around the store to make sure it’s empty of customers, you jingle your keys in time to the beat of “Waterloo,” your favorite guilty pleasure song.

Satisfied no one’s in the store, you lock up and start the closing paperwork. It was a packed day, everyone doing some last minute shopping before the holiday. You finish up as quickly as you can and head back to the office to put everything in the safe. After turning off the lights as you go, you step up to the counter to quickly turn off the stereo before heading back through the gate.

You head out the south entrance by the department store, wondering if it’ll still snowing like it was this morning. Out in the cold air you wrap your coat around you and cross your arms, trying to keep in any warmth. 

Flurries of snow are falling around you and you squeal to yourself with excitement. It usually snows a bit in the winter, but it almost never sticks. Today must be your lucky day because there’s a solid three or four inches on the ground. You take a few steps out onto the sidewalk and spin around, watching the flakes fall onto your palms.

You close your eyes, laughing in delight. You’re so lost in your amusement that you don’t see Minseok until it’s too late. 

You back into him and in the tangle of limbs you both go down onto the thankfully softened sidewalk. He ends up on top of you, looking at you from above, his hands splayed on either side of your head to hold himself up.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you all right?” you ask, voice high with anxiety. He brushes the hair out of your face with a hand, smiling down at you.

“I’m fine. Though I have to say it’s been a while since anyone swept me off my feet,” he says and you both start laughing.

After a few moments the laughter dies out, but you both remain where you are. Your awareness is drawn to his hard body pressed against yours; you can feel his heat even through the layers of clothing between you. The urge to arch up into him, to remove any space that exists, rises in you. 

His dark eyes bore into yours, holding you in place. He leans down, an almost imperceptible movement, and your lips part in anticipation. Suddenly he blinks and pulls back, shaking himself, muttering an apology. He stands up fluidly and holds out his hands for yours.

In one swift movement you’re on your feet again, and though nothing has changed in the scene before you. It feels like your whole world has shifted on its axis. He brushes the snow off of himself and you copy the movement, wiping off the flakes attached to your coat and jeans.

“Have a great Christmas,” he says, his voice lower than it was just moments ago, before turning and walking away.

“You too,” you say. 

Several moments pass before the cold seeps into your skin and you finally remember where you are. Christmas Eve, heading home. Right. You bite your lip as you scurry to your car, unable to tear your mind away from what almost happened.

February 13th, 1996

Sighing, you lean your head back and roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Another busy Saturday at the mall, the rain driving everyone indoors yet again. It’s the first time you’ve had a spare second to step into the office to grab a drink of water and take a breather. When Mel walked in to start her closing shift you were so grateful you could have kissed her.

Your stomach growls loudly, reminding you that you haven’t eaten since oh, maybe eight this morning. You look down at your watch and realize it’s now two o’clock. 

You grab your wallet from your purse and head out for the food court, checking to make sure that Mel and the staff have things flowing well before catching her attention and mouthing, ‘getting food, be back,’ at her. She nods at you and pouts, rubbing her stomach. You laugh and give her a thumbs up.

When you step into the mall you see that KMS Music is even more slammed than you are. You seem to remember that a huge hip hop album was due to come out today and the crowd in KMS does seem to include more than the usual punk and classic rock enthusiasts Minseok seems to attract. 

You take a few steps into the store and look around, standing on your tiptoes. Minseok and Alec are at the registers along with one of his newer hires Samantha. Some other employees are working the lines, making sure everyone has what they need to check out quickly. It doesn’t look like it’s going to slow down anytime.

Backing carefully out of the store you head to the food court toward Barada Pizza, your favorite. Now that the lunch rush is over you’re to the front of the line quickly. One of the co-owners Chanyeol is at the register and he gives you his signature grin. 

“Bookworm! How’s it going? Crazy Saturday, huh?” His cheerful voice and his silly nicknames for everyone never fail to put you in a good mood.

“Doing great today Channie, how are you and Soo doing?” you ask. You can see Kyungsoo in the back, working his ass off like usual, moving pizzas around in the large stone fire over in the back, his face pink from the oven’s heat.

“Same old, same old, you know how it is. What can I get for you? The usual two slices of the veggie special?” he asks and you marvel again at how he always remembers your order.

“Actually I’m picking up a whole one for the store, we’re pretty slammed today and Mel’s pretending she’s dying of hunger,” you say and bite your lip, knowing that what you’re going to ask next might set off gossip. “And while I’m here, Minseok’s store is crazy today. What kind of pizza does he usually get?”

Chanyeol gives you an appraising look before his sweet face breaks into a grin. “My boy’s a purist, just plain cheese.”

“Perfect, I’ll take three large cheeses please,” you say, looking anywhere but at Chanyeol’s knowing stare. You always figured that he’s more perceptive than he lets on and wonder if he’s picked up on how you feel about his close friend.

“All right, bookworm. Three large cheeses coming right up,” he says, his voice absent of teasing for once.

Ten minutes later you’re carrying the piping hot boxes back through the mall. You swing by the bookstore and drop one off in the break room, letting everyone know that lunch has arrived. You dodge Mel’s curious expression as she watches you walk back out into the mall toward KMS music.

The crowd is still going strong, only slightly smaller than it was twenty minutes ago. Normally crowds freak you out, but after almost a year of running your own store you’re much more confident. You hold the pizzas above your head to avoid bumping into anyone and begin making your way through the mass of people. 

Finally you break through at the register and emerge near the gap in the counter that leads toward the back hallway. Alec’s register is closest to you and he lets out a dramatic gasp when he sees you.

“Bless my heart, are those for us?” he asks, licking his lips. You smile and nod. “Hey, Minseok, where can we put these?” he calls over to his boss.

Minseok looks up from the customer he’s helping and he does a double take, his jaw dropping slightly as he realizes what he’s seeing. He hands his customer her receipt and holds up a hand to the next customer, saying someone will be with her in a moment. He snakes his way along the register toward you, calling to one of his other employees, Devon you think his name is, to take his place at the register.

“Are you an angel? This is incredible, follow me,” he says, taking the top pizza from you and leading you along the hallway. 

He makes a quick right turn into a sparse but lived-in break room. He sets the pizza on an old circular dining table and then takes the one from your hands and puts it on top. 

“Thank you so much,” he says, turning to you. “It’s been like this since we opened at nine and we’re all absolutely starving. What do I owe you?” he says, reaching back for his wallet.

You quickly wave him off. “No, this is my treat,” you insist, putting your hands on your hips. He gives you a sardonic expression and you know he’s not going to take no for an answer. 

You throw your hands up and start backing out of the room, an amused grin lighting your face. He follows you down the hall and you both re-enter the store maintaining eye contact. His expression becomes serious and he reaches out a hand to quickly touch your elbow. 

“Thank you, I meant it,” he says, dark eyes holding yours.

You nod and step back out into the crowd, reluctantly breaking from his scrutiny as you turn to leave. You hear him switch places with Alec, taking his spot at the register so the eccentric young man can go eat first. As you head back to the bookstore you add his dedication to his employees to your mental list of reasons that you’re horribly, achingly in love with him.

April 27th, 1996

Melanie looks up from ringing up a customer. The time is 12pm on the dot and like clockwork you come out from finishing paperwork in the office, check with her that she’s good to cover lunch, and head toward the music store. 

Every Monday since “the day of the pizza” you’ve wandered into the music store with feigned casualness. And every Monday at noon, like clockwork, she watches Minseok find a reason to be shelving near you, drawing you into conversation. 

Sometimes just for a few minutes, sometimes for the entire hour. Those days you rush back into the store and grab a granola bar before going back to work, a megawatt smile on your face.

When she glances up a few minutes later, there you are. Standing by a rack of CDs, not paying them any attention, talking animatedly while he listens intently. She chuckles to herself and goes back to work. 

Maybe one day you’ll both realize how you feel about each other, she thinks, hoping she’s there to witness it. 

She and Alec have a bet going about how long it will take one of you to admit your feelings. She bets that you’ll be the first to confess, but he has money on Minseok breaking first. Alec thinks it will be sometime this summer, while she just hopes it’s sometime this decade.

July 14th, 1996

Today he’s joking with a customer when you walk in, a regular that you recognize. A tall man with a brightly colored Mohawk and a leather jacked with studded shoulders. Minseok throws his head back, laughing. It’s a high, throaty sound you love. You wander up and down the aisles, hands in your pockets, trying to feel out what you’re in the mood for today.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks, suddenly appearing next to you.

“Good, the usual Monday, you?” 

He shrugs and tilts his hand back and forth in a ‘so-so’ gesture and you laugh and nod in agreement.

“I’m looking for something new today. Trying to branch out from my usual ABBA,” you say. “Got any suggestions?”

He laughs and stares at you from under his lashes. “You know I have thousands of suggestions. You’ll have to narrow it down a bit for me.”

“Surprise me,” you say playfully. “Dealer’s choice, anything you want. I trust your taste.”

He raises his eyebrows at the praise. He rubs his hands together. “Ooh, a challenge. All right, let me see,” he says, his sharp eyes running up and down the racks. 

“Here, try this. It’s a little funky, a little rock, very chill. Check it out, let me know what you think,” he says and hands you the CD. There’s a pink cloud of smoke on the cover, leading to what looks like a subway station. The Velvet Underground – Loaded.

You take the disc and move to walk to the register. “Looks interesting, I’ll take it.”

His hand darts out to lightly grab your wrist. “No way, it’s on the house. I’ll only make you pay for it if you say you don’t like it,” he says in his usual acerbic tone.

“All right, fine. But only if I can lend you one of my favorite books in return,” you say and poke a finger to his chest.

“Deal,” he says. For you he’d read the Encyclopedia Britannica, or the phone book, he thinks. 

You give him a sweet smile and walk back to the bookstore, studiously reading the track list on the back of the disc. He shakes his head to himself, marveling at how much he likes it when you listen to his favorite songs. How much he looks forward to these Mondays with you.

He can practically hear his friend Chanyeol’s voice in his head, calling him a wuss for not just sucking it up and asking you out. But he’s content to have you in his life in any way, not wanting to risk what he has now.

September 30th, 1996

He sits across from you in the food court, watching; his eyes constantly leaving the pages of the book you lent him, drawn to you instead. It’s not that the book isn’t interesting, it’s just that he finds he's always paying attention to you these days, attuned to your frequency every time you get near. 

Three tables separate him from you, but it might as well be a hundred since you look like you’re in another world all to yourself. Reading a book, resting your cheek in one hand while you flip pages with the other. Your lunch lies untouched next to you, ignored as your eyes hungrily scan the page.

He wishes it was his hands on your face, thinking he'd never be able to stop if he started touching you. He imagines running his hands through your hair, tracing his fingers along your jaw and down your neck. Maybe his touch would earn him a blush, a sight he's only seen twice, but both times almost brought him to his knees.

"Hey man, you ready to go?" Chanyeol's loud voice asks from above, startling him.

He quickly looks away, hoping you won't catch him watching. "Yeah, lets go,” he says, gathering up his stuff and heading toward the pub in the food court after Chanyeol.

He can't resist a look back, just a quick turn of the head. You're still enamored with your book, a pleased smile now adorning your face. Something you read must have made you happy. He feels his mouth turn up in response. Just knowing that something gives you such pleasure makes him feel like everything’s right with his world.

January 11th, 1997

You’re straightening displays in the window while you wait for your friend to meet you for lunch. You spot Minseok coming down the mall from the food court. His hair is slicked back up into a retro style, a long silver earring in one ear, his favorite tight leather jacket hugging his body. 

You bite down on your lip, studiously focusing on your task to avoid staring too long. He makes you painfully aware of how long it’s been since anyone but your cat Chewey shared your bed.

You blush to yourself. Friends of yours claim that the nineties is the second coming of the sixties. A new wave of free love; empowered women who aren’t waiting on a man to choose them, happy and free in their sexual independence. But you’re very aware that while you’re thrilled for them, it’s just not your style. They call you old fashioned and jokingly tell you you’ll be waiting for eternity if you’re looking for someone like Mr. Darcy. 

It’s not that you want some Regency hero to ride up on a horse and save you, you’re doing just fine by yourself, thank you very much. It’s just that every time your friends try to set you up with someone your mind wanders back to a certain man instead and they just don’t seem to measure up.

“So, have you told him you’re in love with him yet?” a cheerful voice teases in your ear. 

You jolt in surprise and turn around to face your friend. She’s standing there grinning at you while you frantically look around to make sure no one heard her. You give her a disapproving frown and grab her hand, pulling her toward the food court. Once you’re far away from your store you release her and turn on her with your best angry face.

“What if someone had heard you?” you demand, fighting a smile, knowing that you won’t really be able to stay mad at her for long.

She twines her arm in yours and pulls you toward the tiny vegan restaurant in the food court. “Welllll if he’d heard, you it might have forced you to do something about it. Babe, this is the nineties, you can just ask him out. He seems like the type to respect a strong, forward woman,” she teases, pulling on your arm to shake you out of your terrified expression.

“Ha ha. Can you imagine me having the guts to ask him out? Have you even seen him? What would Mick Jagger want with… with Pollyana? No, I think Mark Twain said it best, ‘it is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool that to open it and remove all doubt.’”

She gives you a playful shove as you get in line for food. “Oh, come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Umm, hello. We work right next to each other. If it went bad I would feel so awkward I’d have to move to Alaska to escape. No, thank you. I’ll happily exist in my fantasy world where the men are nice and safe and best of all, fictional.’

You sigh and resist the urge to look back at the music store, just in case. ‘Anyways, enough about me and my desolate love life, how are you? How’s the job search going - are you still temping?” you ask, desperate to move the conversation away from your pointless longing for Minseok.

“God, don’t remind me. I’m on my fourth assignment this month alone. I don’t know how much longer I can take it,” she says, pouting.

“You know, I heard Sinful’s looking to take on someone to help out for a while with Valentine’s Day coming up. It might not last too long, but the hours are solid and Yixing’s a friend. I could put in a good word for you if you want?”

“Really? That would be fantastic! Anything to get a few solid weeks of paychecks under my belt. I’d appreciate it so much,” she says and squeezes your arm in gratitude. 

‘Don’t worry about it,’ you say. ‘It’s what friends are for.’ Finally the line moves and you and your friend step up to order. 

January 13th, 1997

“For the love of everything holy, dude. Will you just ask her out already?” Chanyeol says, exasperated, leaning over the counter while Minseok totals receipts. “You’re killing me here.”

Minseok sneaks a look across the mall to where you are bagging up the money at the register, sticking the bag under your arm as you gather up your paperwork. He shakes his head and gives Chanyeol a rueful smile. 

“No way, she’s totally out of my reach. What would she want with a punk like me?” Chanyeol holds up a hand and opens his mouth to object, but Minseok cuts him off. “And before you say anything, that wasn’t a sleight against myself. She’s just… she’s all Jane Austen and I’m Boo freaking Radley. As you so delight in pointing out, I’m a cranky hermit who’s incapable of normal human interaction.’ 

He watches you brush your hair behind your ears and he knows you’re running through your closing checklist in your head. ‘She deserves the world, and I’m nowhere near romantic or thoughtful enough to give it to her,” he says emphatically.

“All right, I’ll leave it alone. For now. But I still think you’re underestimating yourself and how good you could be together,” Chanyeol says, throwing his hands up and going back to reading his comic book.

You step out into the mall and slide the gate closed, locking it into place. Chanyeol sees you approaching and gives you a big wave. “Bookworm! How’s it going? You’re coming to Baekhyun’s party tonight right?” he asks, drawing you in for an affectionate one-armed hug. 

Minseok narrows his eyes at Chanyeol over the top of your head and pointedly looks at his hand around your back. Chanyeol gives him a teasing look, but still releases you a second later.  

“Yeah, absolutely. I’m on my way there now. You’re both coming right?” you ask, directing the question to Chanyeol but focusing your attention on Minseok.

“Oh for sure, I’m just waiting on my boy Min here to hurry the hell up so we can get a move on,” he says, spinning his hands to indicate speeding things up.

“Awesome! Well, I’ll see you both there,” you say brightly and head toward the parking lot.

Chanyeol gives Minseok a knowing look but doesn’t say anything. 

A few minutes later Minseok’s finally closed the gate and put away the money. Chanyeol hits the lights and they exit through the front doors out into the parking lot. They both turn at the sound of your frustrated groan. Your car hood is up and you’re staring at it with a look of dismay. 

Chanyeol smacks Minseok on the shoulders and points. “Me thinks there’s a lady in need of your services,” he says with a grin.

Minseok turns to Chanyeol, trying to grab his arm, but he dances out of the way. “Sorry amigo, I’ve got a party to get to. And you’ve got a date with destiny,” he says, giving his friend a wry grin.

Minseok sighs and starts off in your direction. Crossing the parking lot he tugs on his jacket, straightening it out. He rubs his hands on the sides of his jeans, willing himself to appear more together around you than he is and hoping you can’t see how unnerved you make him. 

He can’t help but think how cute you look, lips pouted, hands on your hips, your head cocked to the side as you study the mystery that is your car engine.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asks, sticking his hands in his pocket in an attempt at casualness.

You whip your head up and smile when you realize who it is. “Minseok, oh thank goodness. I’ve tried starting it a billion times, but it just keeps making this grinding noise.” You let out a sigh. “I know how to change the tires and the oil, but this is way beyond my limited knowledge.”

He steps as close as he dares, moving next to you to peek into the hood, illuminated by the streetlight above you. He peers inside, taking in all the wires and pipes. 

He lets out a laugh. “Well, unfortunately I don’t know anything about cars. But I can give you a ride to Baekhyun’s party and then drop you off at home tonight. In the morning I’d be happy to pick you up and you can call my friend Jim from the store. He’s a mechanic and he’d be happy to drive over and take a look at it tomorrow,” he says looking hopeful.

You reach over and touch his arm. “That would be perfect, thank you.” You close the hood and go around to your passenger seat to grab your purse and jacket, locking the car. “Lead the way.”

He opens the door for you when you reach his car and you slide into the dark leather seat with a word of thanks. He tries and fails to stop his mind from imagining that this is the beginning of a date. 

But still, he hopes. That someday he’ll get to sit close to you at a restaurant, his hand finding your thigh under the table. That he’ll get to hold your beautiful face in his hands and kiss you goodnight. That he’ll get to ask you all the questions he’s been dying to know the answers to, discovering all the little details of your life that are still a mystery to him.

“Everything okay?” you ask, looking up at him with a curious expression.

Shit, he thinks. He nods and gently closes the door. He gives himself a shake as he walks around to the driver’s side. You can do this, he tells himself. 

He slides in and closes the door. Moving to start the car he notices you’ve got your hands full with his large CD case, curiously flipping through and analyzing his collection. This could be any night, you two together, about to head out on the town, carefully selecting the evening’s soundtrack. He doesn’t let himself acknowledge how much he desperately wishes it were true.

When you notice him watching you give him a sly grin. “It’s like seeing the man behind the curtain. What does Minseok, renowned music expert, listen to in his personal life?” you say, obviously enjoying yourself. 

Handing him the case, eyes bright, you ask, “will you show me what your favorite is?” 

He sighs and leans over, flipping a few sleeves until he finds what he’s looking for. He notices your intake of breath at his closeness and swallows around the lump that’s risen in his throat. He slips out a CD and switches it for the one in the player. The CD starts and he skips to the sixth song. 

The drums start and you tilt your head as you try to place the song. Then a smooth, beautiful voice starts singing, accompanied by a jazzy guitar. Your mouth parts in surprise. You’d expected the classics; Rolling Stones, Queen, Nirvana maybe. Anything but this sensual, soulful song. The sound wraps around you in the enclosed car. As the singer hits a high note you close your eyes in appreciation.

He feels like his heart is trying to leap out of his chest. You look so beautiful, your face a mask of pleasure as the strains of his favorite song wash over you. Your full lips and profile highlighted in the swath of light coming into the car from the streetlight. 

He takes full advantage of your closed eyes to drink in your face. He told Chanyeol he wasn’t romantic, but somehow you’ve twisted your way into his heart. He wishes he had the words to express how you make him feel, he’d write you song after song if he could.

The song gently tapers out and you open your eyes to meet his. The next song starts but neither of you are paying it any attention. 

“Who is this?” you ask in a voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to break the spell cast by the song.

“Marvin Gaye. Trouble Man,” he answers, ducking his head. “Probably not what you were expecting?” he asks, looking back to you, a fierce desire to know how you see him.

You giggle and shake your head. “Definitely not what I was expecting. But I like it. I feel like I’ve gotten to see a side of you I wasn’t expecting,” you say softly.

“Rock will always have my heart, but Marvin speaks to my soul. No pun intended,” he says with a lopsided smile.

You open your mouth to say something but a car starts across from you, sending light flooding around you. It’s Kyungsoo from Barada. He gives you and Minseok a quick wave and then turns his head to start backing out.

“Well, we should probably get going. God knows if I leave Chanyeol in charge of the music it’s going to be Oingo Boingo on repeat all night,” he says and turns to back out of the space, anxious to leave so he doesn’t do anything dangerous with you so near. 

Like pull you close to finally learn what you taste like.

Minseok walks out from the kitchen holding two cups of beer and stops short. The man who owns the chocolate shop, Yixing he thinks is his name, is talking to you now, holding a cup in one hand and leaning in to speak to you over the noise. You're smiling and nodding, and he feels like his blood has gone ice cold.

"What's wrong with you?" Alec asks, suddenly appearing next to him, already tipsy. He follows Minseok's gaze to where you and Yixing are talking. He laughs, a high sound, and smacks Minseok on the back. "Dude, you are so oblivious."

Minseok turns to regard Alec, wondering if his unspoken fear has come true and you are seeing someone else without him realizing it. "What, are they together or something?" He asks, feigning disinterest.

Alec laughs again and shakes his head. "No. Jesus, you really don't know? Okay my man, when you go back over there just watch her face, all right? Trust me," he says in a patronizing manner that would bother Minseok if he wasn't completely focused on you.

He starts walking over, moving around groups of people talking, not paying them any attention. When he breaks through the mass of people he approaches you and Yixing. You turn your head to look at him. It's like the sun has come out, he thinks. The bright pleasure on your face when you meet his gaze, your mouth turning up at the corners; a smile just for him. 

A second, two, you watch him, and then you look down. A blush blooms on your cheeks and you bite your lip, quickly glancing back at him before returning your attention to Yixing. He stops himself from sighing in relief. Could Alec be right? he wonders. Do you somehow feel the same way?

When he comes up to you he hands you the cup, giving you a warm smile. You take the cup and wave a hand at Yixing. "Minseok, do you know Yixing? He owns Sinful and I think I've convinced him to hire my friend for the Valentine’s rush," you say with a pleased smile, voice giddy with excitement.

Yixing reaches out a hand. “Good to meet you, I love your store. You’ve got a great selection,” he says to Minseok. He shakes Yixing’s hand, nodding in thanks.

“Just tell your friend to swing by any time I’m open with her resume. I’d be happy to meet with her. Sounds like she’d be perfect,” he says to you before nodding his head in parting and heading back into the party.

Minseok joins you in leaning against the wall and starts regaling you with the story of his latest run in with a crazy regular of his - a teenager who always tries to make off with a CD under his arm. You easily slip into a flow with him, discussing your businesses, the patrons of the mall, the books and movies you trade back and forth.

Some time later the opening beats of “Dead Man’s Party” start playing and Minseok groans. He looks over to the CD player in the corner and of course finds Chanyeol closing the Oingo Boingo case. It doesn’t matter that it’s either way too early or far too late in the year for the song, Chanyeol loves it anyways. The couples dancing in the center of the living room aren’t even phased by the change in vibe and start shaking their heads in time to the funky beat.

Chanyeol grabs a girl nearby and drags her onto the dance floor. She and Baekhyun are always laughing and joking together at the theater whenever you and your friend stop in to see a movie on the weekends. You’ve gotten to know them pretty well through various run-ins around the mall in the past few months. 

Her head tips back with laughter as Chanyeol spins her around in an uncoordinated mess. Minseok rolls his eyes, but watches them with a content smile.

Looking around the party, you realize how many people you actually know here.

 Yixing is in a discussion with Junmyeon, the owner of Guardians, nearby. Both gesturing emphatically as they argue their points. Alec and Sam from KMS are doing a shot of some awful looking green liquid with some of the staff from Barada while Kyungsoo looks on skeptically, drinking a soda. 

Baekhyun comes charging onto the dance floor, dragging another girl with him. You can’t remember her name but you’re pretty sure she recently started working at the clothing store adjacent to your bookshop. 

She cracks up at Baekhyun’s dramatic and awful dance moves, bending over, holding her stomach she’s laughing so hard. You smile suddenly, thinking that you couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to know.

You’re not usually the type to dance in public, but your good mood is demanding that you get in on the action. Setting down your cup you hold your hand out to Minseok. 

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em?” you ask and raise an eyebrow at him. 

He sighs like it’s a huge burden but then gives you a sardonic smile, sets down his drink, and grabs your hand. It’s firm warmth wraps around your hand as he leads you into the fray. He finds a spot in the middle of the crowd and you stumble into him as Chanyeol comes spinning past with his partner, bumping into you.

His arm wraps around your waist to steady you and you give him a smile in thanks. You realize abruptly how close you are. It would be nothing really, to lean forward and press your lips to his. You pull yourself back to a more appropriate distance, mentally shaking yourself out of the thought. 

The next song starts up and soon you and Minseok are twisting and shaking along with the beats.

He looks so much less intimidating this way, his wavy hair going off in all directions. His expression is joyful and open as he dances wildly to make you smile. Chanyeol makes another lap around and sees his friend on the dance floor. 

He gives a loud whoop and thumps Minseok on the back, yelling, “that’s my boy!” as he twirls his partner.

After the album finishes Minseok rushes over to the CD player to start something else before Chanyeol can put Dead Man’s Party on for a second time. A minute later everyone cheers as the opening beats to “No Diggity” start playing. 

Minseok meets your bewildered expression and gives you a wry smile. You laugh, knowing how much he loves to surprise you with music you aren’t expecting.

He makes his way back through the crowd to you. His gaze turns intent, tilting his head down to watch you through his lashes, sending a wave of heat to your core. He pulls off his leather jacket and sets it on a couch. In his dark jeans and tight black shirt he looks good enough to eat. You involuntarily swallow and look down quickly to pull an invisible speck of dust off your black dress.

When you look back up he’s in front of you, holding out a hand. You put your hand back into his, your other arm finding his shoulder as his hand slips around your waist.

He steps close to you and you both start moving in time to the smooth beats. Being this intimate with him might very well kill you, you think. You look anywhere but in his eyes, desperately trying to avoid the fierce desires battling inside you; not sure which is stronger, the need to speak the words in your heart or to beg him to put those glorious lips of his anywhere on your body.

You shake your head with amusement. What is this party doing to you? The heat from his nearness, the smell of his subtle cologne, the sensual music. After a few songs you start to feel like you’re drowning, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. You slip a step, feeling unexpectedly lightheaded.

He pulls you back to scan your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes to take in your flushed cheeks. “Want to get some air?” he asks, raising his voice over the music. 

You nod and lean against him as he leads you through the crowd to a room with two leather chairs in front of a television, filled with video game systems.

He gently helps you into one of the chairs, sitting in the other and scooting close, keeping his arm securely around your back. You rest your elbows on your thighs, holding your forehead in your hands while you take deep breaths.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s happening. I’m not drunk – I think I might be getting sick though,” you say and groan.

“No need to apologize, can you wait here for a moment? I’ll go get our stuff and I can take you home,” he says and rises to stand.

You grab his hand and squeeze, drawing his attention back to you. “Thank you,” you tell him earnestly. 

He squeezes your hand back with a smile and goes through the hallway to retrieve your coats and bag.

Minseok comes back quickly and helps you into your coat, walking you back through the party with his arm firmly around your back. You stop to say goodbye to Baekhyun and Chanyeol who both give you sympathetic waves and tell you they hope you feel better soon.

The drive home is quiet. You give Minseok your address and he leaves the music off so you can rest for a bit, curled up against the side of his car while he drives. He pulls up to your house and hesitates, seeing that you’ve fallen asleep. Time stretches out as he wonders what to do. 

He wants to drive straight to the hospital to make sure you’re okay, but he logically knows it’s probably one of those twenty-four hour bugs that come and go all the time as a side effect of working with the public.

Eventually he puts the car in park and gets out, walking over to your side. He eases the door open and props you up with his hands, one cupping your head and one on your arm to stop you from rolling. You open your eyes blearily at him. 

“Do you think you can walk inside or would you like me to carry you?” he asks, holding you gently.

You blink a few times and seem to come back to yourself. “I can walk I think,” you say, your voice thin and scratchy. 

With his help you get up the steps and inside the house, dropping your purse on the couch and shrugging out of your coat. 

“I’ll be all right, I’m just going to go straight to bed and get some sleep. Thanks so much for your help Minseok,” you say with a weak smile.

He hesitates, wanting to make sure you’re okay. But he tears himself away before he does something really impulsive, like demand to spend the night so he can check on you. He pulls out a crumpled receipt from his pocket and walks over to your dining table to grab a pen. 

He writes down his name and number and leaves the paper for you. “There’s my number, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, okay? Still want me to drive you to work tomorrow or do you think you’ll be too sick?” 

“No, no. I have a good immune system. A little sleep and a few big cups of orange juice in the morning and I should be good to go. Promise. How does eight forty sound?”

“I’ll be here,” he says and walks over to the door. 

He looks back and you give him a sleepy wave as you shut the door. He watches through the top narrow window as you head down the hall. He gently shuts the screen door and heads back to his car, feeling like he left part of him behind.

January 14th, 1997

The morning dawns clear and bright. He’s already been up since six in the morning, unable to sleep most of the night; torn between worrying about you and trying not to remember how good you felt in his arms. 

Finally at 8:22 he can’t take waiting anymore and heads out to his car. Of course he gets there too early, it only takes six minutes to get from his place to yours. He circles the block aimlessly for ten more minutes to kill time before finally parking out front of your apartment. He practically sprints up the steps to your door, pausing to calm his breathing before knocking.

Several moments pass before you finally open the door. He takes in your disheveled appearance. Hair unbound around your shoulders, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and pajama pants, carrying a handful of tissues. 

You lean against the door frame, your nose red. “You know, everyone always complains about how easy it is to get sick working in a mall and here I thought I was immune to it,” you say, pouting.

He smiles sympathetically at you, that overwhelming desire to take care of you rising again.

“Just give me a few minutes to pull myself together?” you ask, eyes closing involuntarily as you try and stand up on your own without the support of the door.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he says, rushing forward to steady you. “Can anyone cover for you today? I don’t think you should try to work.”

You wrinkle your brow as you try to think through the fog in your mind. “Um, well Mel could probably come in early and I just finished training Nathan on closing duties,” you say through your sniffling.

“Perfect, why don’t you give them a call?” he asks, stepping into the apartment and shutting the door against the cold weather. 

He walks you over to your couch and gently helps you sit down. The phone is lying on the side table and he hands it to you. A few minutes later everything is sorted out and you drop the phone onto the couch with a sigh of relief. Glancing up you find Minseok staring at you with an intent look on his face.

“Okay, how about this. Why don’t you take a hot shower while I run out to get some supplies? What symptoms are you having?” he asks, scanning your face and body.

“Hmm, let’s see. My whole body just feels achy and weak. I’ve got a fever, I think. I can’t really tell with all the congestion going on,” you reply with a pout.

“Got it. I’ll be back in about half an hour, okay?” he says.

You want to object, to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about you. But you’re too tired and sick, and you honestly can’t remember the last time you let someone take care of you, so you just nod at him and manage a small smile. He heads out and you drag your aching body into the bathroom and start the shower.

When he comes back, twenty nine minutes later, he’s carrying four shopping bags. You’re laying down on the couch, bundled up in your pajamas with a towel wrapped around your head. He comes over to kneel down at the coffee table and starts unpacking the bags.

“I wasn’t sure what you had, so I kind of bought everything,” he says pulling more and more things out. 

Ibuprofen, cold medicine, cough drops, throat spray. More packs of tissues. Several different colors of Gatorade. A large to-go container of what smells like chicken noodle soup. A couple cans of ginger ale. And selection of VHS tapes from Blockbuster.

“Do you want to eat something?” 

You nod weakly in response. He digs around in the bags until he finds a spoon. He pops the lid off of the soup and slides it over to you before twisting the cap off of a yellow Gatorade and setting it next to the soup. He comes and sits beside you on the couch, holding the towel out of your face while you eat and drink.

The soup is delicious and warms you up straight away, the Gatorade gives you a burst of energy. When you’re finished he waves a hand to the array of medicine in front of you. 

“So, first off - have you taken any medicine today? And if not, what’s the biggest pain point at the moment?” he asks, his hand gently rubbing your back.

“I took some Tylenol, but that was last night, I haven’t had anything today. The worst of it is the congestion, and this awful sinus headache that won’t go away,” you say, rubbing your temples.

“Got it. Let me grab you some water to take this with,” he says, grabbing the bottle of bottle of cold medicine and unscrewing the cap. 

He stands up and walks into your small, bright kitchen. He finds the glasses on his second try and brings you a tall glass of water to take the pills with. Once you swallow them he rejoins you on the couch, shaking out a fluffy blanket and putting it over you.

“There’s something my mother used to do when I got sick that felt like it helped. Do you mind if I try it?” he asks.

You nod weakly and he eases your head into his lap so you’re laying down, gently taking the towel off your hair and setting it on the back of the couch. You feel incredibly warm and safe, resting on his thigh. 

His strong hands start rubbing your temples and you sigh at how good it feels. He eases his way through your hair, rubbing your scalp, slowly making his way to your neck. The combination of the medicine and his gentle massage eases the pain and you can feel yourself falling asleep.

You curl up against him, moving your head to get more comfortable. In your impaired state you don’t think before you speak. “Would you sing to me?” you ask dreamily, your voice sounding far away.

He sighs and you hear him quietly mutter, ‘only for you,’ to himself. 

“What would you like to hear?” 

“Mm, anything you want. I love your voice,” you say.

He thinks for a moment and then starts humming. “Well, it’s a marvelous night for a moondance. With the stars up above in your eyes,” he sings quietly. You smile as his gentle voice lulls you off to sleep, singing one of your favorite songs off of an album he’s shared with you.

When you wake up the sky outside has gone dark. You turn your head up and see that Minseok has fallen asleep against the side of your couch, your head resting on his hip. You don’t feel all the way better, but the headache has subsided and you’re able to breathe fully again. And, most incredibly, you were having a lovely dream where he was singing to you.

You giggle to yourself. Like he would ever sing to you; he’s told you he absolutely hates singing and always refuses to come to karaoke when you invite him along with you and your friend. He wakes up at your quiet laughter, blinking his eyes as he processes where he is.

“Sorry I woke you,” you whisper, leaning up off him and settling into the back of the couch.

He rolls his neck, rubbing his face in his hands. “No problem at all. Wow, what time is it? Sorry, I guess I fell asleep too,” he says and smiles sheepishly at you.

“Goodness, don’t worry about it. You deserve it after everything you did for me. Seriously, Minseok this is amazing. Thank you so much,” you say, moved by how sweet and kind he is.

You stand up and turn on the light next to the couch. Walking gingerly over to the over to read the digital clock, you are shocked to see how late it is. “It’s six twenty. Wow, we really slept the day away huh?”

He opens his mouth to speak but a loud grumbling sound from his stomach cuts him off. “If you don’t have any plans, how about I order us a pizza and we watch one of the movies you brought?” you offer.

“That sounds perfect,” he says, pleasure lighting his features.

You spend the night watching Clerks and splitting a large pizza, half plain cheese, half veggie. When he finally leaves around nine at night you’re feeling much better already. He insists on leaving all the medicine ‘just in case’ and arranges to pick up tomorrow morning for work.

You fall asleep in bed with a satisfied grin on your face, filled with gratitude at the fact you have someone as amazing as Minseok in your life.

May 20, 1997

Finally taking a break from the busy sale day celebrating your second anniversary, you’re seated in your desk chair, feeling rebellious with your feet propped up on the desk. It pays to be the boss, you think with a smirk. 

You look over at a soft knock on the door. Mel enters, holding a package wrapped in colorful purple paper, a simple white bow on the top.

“What’s that?” you inquire.

“It just came for you,” she practically squeals, joy coming out of her every pore.

“Okay… and? Is it a delivery?”

“Nope. And you’ll never guess who just brought it over,” she teases, holding the package above her head and bouncing up and down with excitement.

“I’m not guessing, just give it to me,” you say with a laugh, holding your hand out.

“Okay fine, I’ll tell you. But can I watch you open it?” she pleads, putting the package on the desk and holding her hands out in front of her in prayer. Her over-the-top excitement makes you laugh.

“All right, all right. Fine!” you say and she claps happily.

“It was Minseok,” she says, raising her eyebrows meaningfully.

Your breath catches. The past few months you’ve been desperately fighting off your growing feelings for him. That day he’d taken care of you had seriously done things to your heart and it had been hard to keep up your Monday conversations without fantasizing about him as a permanent fixture in your home and your life.

You unravel the white ribbon and peel off the paper carefully. You go slowly, partially to annoy the heck out of Mel, mostly because surprise is such a rare element in your life and you want to prolong the delicious moment of curiosity as long as possible.

You pull the paper away to uncover a small stack of CDs, still in their protective packaging. You gasp, one hand reaching for your chest without realizing it, as if preemptively trying to protect your reckless heart for reading too much into the gift.

Jagged Little Pill - Alanis Morissette, the first CD you ever bought from him.

ABBA Gold, the CD you play over and over at closing time, distracting yourself from late night paperwork.

News of the World - Queen, the CD he played when you spent that long night sorting through the paperwork debacle.

Loaded – The Velvet Underground, one of his favorites that he suggested to you.

Dead Man’s Party – Oingo Boingo, the CD you’d danced to at Baekhyun’s party.

Another Level – Blackstreet. You blush remembering how he’d looked at you as he walked through the crowd, his eyes full of something you’d wildly hoped was desire.

Trouble Man – Marvin Gaye. He’d said that album held his soul and for such a badass punk it seemed so incongruous, but when you looked back and saw his eyes, endless and deep like they’d experienced a hundred lifetimes, you knew he was even more than you’d imagined him to be.

The last three CDs stump you. 

This Is How We Do It - Montel Jordan. You ponder for a moment and then remember; that first morning you opened. It was playing on the radio while he made your first purchase ever, you’d taken it to be a good omen. 

Van Morrison – Moondance. You purse your lips and think back. Yes, it was one of the dozens of CDs he’d lent you and yes, it was one of your favorites, but you couldn’t figure out why he was including it.

Nearly giving yourself whiplash, you sit back suddenly, hand flying up to cover your mouth. Coming to you as if from a long forgotten memory, you hear his soft voice singing the title song to you. The darkness of the room and the fog from your sick state had made you think it was a dream.

What if it was real? you wonder, heart skipping a beat at the thought.

The last one is Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd. You tilt your head in confusion, flipping the CD over to the back and scanning the track list. With a rush it comes back to you. That cold, rainy night in February, more than two years ago; walking into his store, searching for angry music.

The first time you met him “Money” had been playing over the speakers. You can’t believe you remember that after all these years.

If he remembered that too, if he was giving you these, maybe he’d been paying as close attention to you as you were to him all these long months. You shake your head, trying to rip out that silly hope before it grows roots in your mind. No, he’s just good at knowing his customers, his friends. He’s just naturally observant, you tell yourself.

Flipping through the cases again a piece of paper slips out between two of the CDs and falls to the desk. It’s a faded receipt. You can just read the name of your bookstore and the date and time. May 20th, 1995 9:04 am. The Bridges of Madison County. You gasp. You can’t believe he’s kept it this long. There’s two lines of words scrawled on the bottom of the receipt in his hurried, messy writing. Just two lines, but they completely undo you.

Happy second anniversary. I’ll always be there for you. Any time.

You stand up suddenly, moving to the door, only to stop two steps later. What’s your plan? Go over and confess your undying love for him? Mel steps over to you, turning you towards her, unable to wait any longer.

“Don’t leave me hanging babe. I know they’re from Minseok, but what do they mean? Why do you look like you’re about to pass out? And is it a good thing or a bad thing?” she rambles, eyes darting over your face like the answers are written on your flushed skin.

You force yourself to walk back to your desk and sit down, setting the pile of CDs in front of you. Propping your elbows up on the desk, you interlace your fingers in front of your mouth, thinking.

You breathe out a big sigh. “It might just be a thoughtful gift from a friend. Or it might mean… everything. These albums are so personal to me, to him,” you say softly. “To us.” 

You put your head in your hands, gripping your hair tightly to stop yourself from sprinting across that short twenty feet and into his arms to bare your heart to him.

It’s Schrödinger’s love story, one path where you do the brave thing and another where you chicken out and don’t act on it, remaining in this limbo forever. 

But you can’t sit here forever, staring at the CDs, wondering. You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that by the time you finally look up from the stack on your desk Mel is gone and the door is gently pulled to.

A line from one of your favorite childhood books whispers through your mind. Courage, dear heart, you think and smile to yourself, your mind made up.

“Screw it, I’ve got to know,” you say to yourself and push back in your chair, standing abruptly.

You scurry down the hall back into the store. You find Mel at the registers ringing up a small line of people, patiently waiting with their merchandise. You distantly acknowledge the line of people, pleased that the sale went well, confirming once more that this was the right path for you. But a larger part of you is carried along on a wave of purpose.

You dash by Mel and she looks up. Seeing your excited face, your nervous grin, she instantly knows where you’re going. She gives you a thumbs up and calls out “Good luck!” as you rush past.

It’s only twenty feet but the distance feels enormous, your mind swirling with the possibilities. You stop in the middle of the mall. What if he turns you away, embarrassed at how much you read into the gift and your friendship? What if he’s already in a relationship and he’s just such a private person he’s never mentioned it? 

What if, what if, what if. 

Another voice rises up in your mind, demanding the others be quiet. After a lifetime spent reading and quietly observing others you’re ready to do something brave. Something else brave, you remind yourself, turning to look at the bookstore with pride. You can do this, you tell yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up straighter, prepared for anything, filled to the brim with love and hope. You resume your walk across the tiled floor and into the music store, the soft strains of a Beatles song playing overhead, reminding you that all you need is love. 

Turning toward the counter you see Alec lazily flipping through a magazine. You hurry over and put your hands on the counter, causing Alec to turn and look at you.

He regards you thoughtfully before giving you a lopsided smile, shaking his head. “Lordy, you two are so alike, it’s hilarious,” he mutters. “If you’re looking for Minseok he just left, he went that way,” he says pointing out the front doors to the parking lot. 

“Go get him, girlie,” he says and chuckles to himself.

Too nervous to even speak you just nod furiously several times before your body carries you toward the doors. You put your arms out in front of you to push the door open as you rush forward at full speed. Stumbling outside, you gasp in the cool air and frantically scan the parking lot for his figure. 

There, up ahead, just unlocking his car. You’d recognize his leather jacket anywhere. You dart into the street, dodging an oncoming car that honks angrily at you. You wave a hand in apology behind you as you sprint forward. His name rises in your throat.

“Minseok!” you call, and he turns around in your direction. 

His surprised expression quickly turns worried as he takes in your flushed cheeks and fast pace. You rush up to him and he catches you in his arms, holding onto your elbows to steady you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, eyes concerned.

You breathe deeply a few times to calm your frantic heart. “Everything. Nothing. I mean - I got your present,” you say, watching him closely.

He ducks his head and gives you a shy smile, so unlike his usual confidence. “Oh, right. Well, it’s a big day. Most businesses don’t make it two years and yet here you are, still kicking ass. I wanted to do something to commemorate that,” he says.

You could just leave it at that, you think. Tell him thank you for the support and the friendship and the sweet gift and go back inside. But your newfound courage won’t let you cop out now.

“Minseok… did you sing for me?” you ask, voice urgent and full of feeling.

He doesn’t need you to clarify what day you mean. He blushes and looks off to the side, nodding once, twice. He looks back to meet your eyes and nods once more, slowly. 

You bring your hands up to his cheeks, joyful tears filling your eyes, and lean in to swiftly press a kiss to his lips. You linger there for a moment before pulling back. His hands come to rest on your hips, his expression shocked.

You rush to explain before you lose your nerve. “Thank you, Minseok. Thank you for helping me out so many times. Thank you for the sweet gift. Thank you for taking care of me when I was sick. I know that what I just did and what I’m about to say might change everything, but I want you to know that I’ll always be your friend if that’s all you want.” You inhale sharply, steadying yourself.

“But I have to tell you, I think – I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I’ve never said anything since I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I had to tell you, even if it’s just this once. I love you, Minseok,” you say, finishing in a rush. “I love you,” you repeat softly. 

You take a deep breath and let it out, dropping your hands to his arms, waiting for his reaction.

A triumphant looks comes across his face and he winds an arm around your back. His other hand slides up to cup your face. “Thank God,” he says, his voice thick with feeling. 

He pulls you flush up against him and kisses you fully, slowly moving his lips along yours. You move your hands up into his hair, finally, finally getting to see what it feels like. His hands grip your hips, holding you close as he runs his tongue along your bottom lip. You both moan as his tongue slips in to stroke yours. 

The reality of him is better than any fantasy you could ever have come up with, you think in a haze.

“Ha! I knew it! You owe me fifty bucks!” someone yells from the direction of the mall. 

You and Minseok break apart to see Mel and Alec standing there. Mel is doing a happy dance and Alec is reaching into his wallet with a disgruntled sigh.

“Did you bet on us?” you call out to her, laughing in disbelief. Minseok laughs next to you, the sound vibrating through his chest against yours.

“Yes, but don’t worry, I won!” Mel calls back, poking Alec in the chest before dragging him back inside, brandishing the bill in triumph.

You look back at Minseok, confused. “I guess we were only good at hiding our feelings from each other,” he laughs.

“Wait, how long have you liked me?” you ask, breaking into a grin at the realization that he actually feels the same way. “Holy shit, you like me?”

He tilts his head back and cracks up, both at hearing you swear for the first time and out of sheer joy that you return his feelings. He brushes your hair back and holds his hand to cup your face. 

“I don’t just like you. I love you too,” he says in a low voice just for you. He leans in to give you another lingering kiss. “And as for the when, I’d have to say it was probably that Christmas Eve you ran into me that I realized it.”

You drop your jaw. “No way. That’s when it hit me too. I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to get here,” you say, blushing.

“But the important thing is, we’re here, together,” he says and you grin, looking back into his eyes. “Want to get out of here?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

You nod. “Let me just grab my stuff,” you say, grabbing his hand. “Come with me?”  

It’s a loaded question, walking inside hand in hand would let everyone know how you feel about each other. You’re not sure if he wants to be so open with it yet, and you want to let him decide without pressure from you.

“Any time, baby,” he says easily, squeezing your hand and pulling you back toward the mall.

June 20, 1997

He waited two years for you; more than that if he’s counting the time since you first met, which of course you both do. He has something special planned for this weekend - well the “weekend” you share, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Two days, just the two of you in his apartment. He doesn’t plan on either of you leaving the bedroom the entire time.

The two of you have kept it mostly PDA-free at the mall, but today you’re doing things to his willpower - wearing his leather jacket over a slim fitting purple cotton dress, your hair in his favorite braids. The combination of sweet and sexy is driving him wild every time he catches a glimpse of you in breaks between customers.

He loves it when you borrow his things, loves seeing little pieces of himself taking up space in your world. It’s only fair since you’ve already invaded his life and his heart completely. A polaroid of you now lives in his wallet. It’s from a late brunch you had together last week. Your hair in a messy bun, throwing up two peace signs, giving him a wide grin.

He keeps an ABBA CD in his car for when you’ve had a stressful day and need cheering up. He imagines Chanyeol endlessly laughing if he saw the candles Minseok bought for the dining table for last Tuesday night when you cooked dinner together. But he couldn’t care less. Besides, he’s already dreaming of making you his forever, officially.

On his lunch break yesterday, while you were tied up with a delivery issue, he snuck over to Simpson & Sons Jewelers and nonchalantly looked at rings. Just a quick glance between the necklaces and earrings, wondering to himself what style you might like. 

He’s waited more than two years, and it still amuses him that you’d felt the same way about each other almost the entire time. He’s in no rush, but now that you’re his, he’s playing for keeps.

He looks up from shelving a new shipment of LPs to see you standing up on your tip toes to grab a book for a customer. Your dress rides up dangerously and he groans softly to himself, feeling all his blood rush to his cock. He glances down at his watch - 12:01pm. Perfect, he thinks and carries the box of LPs back to the counter. 

Alec is training Sam on ordering, arguing back and forth about every step. They pause their bickering and look up as Minseok approaches.

“I’m heading out for lunch Alec, you guys all right here?” he asks, knowing Alec will be patiently waiting for his turn right at one o’clock.

“Right-o boss, we’re all set here,” he says and Sam gives him a dry look. Minseok chuckles to himself as he walks over to your store, happy that he found someone who’s more than a match for the unique challenge that is Alec.

Mel’s ringing up the customer you were helping and she gives him a wave when he walks in. He nods in return and scans the store for you. He finally spots you tidying up displays around the back. As he approaches you he grins, savoring the feeling that you’re finally his as much as he’s always been yours. 

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. You yelp in surprise, whipping your head around to see who it is. Laughing when you realize it’s him you spin in his arms and give him a discreet kiss, eyes shining with joy.

He pulls you close for a longer kiss, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin at your lower back. “Mm, what’s gotten into you today?” you ask in a low voice.

“Hmm, you’re tormenting me with that dress today, and I think I have to do something about it,” he whispers in your ear. 

You raise your eyebrows in question and he pulls you through the store to the back hallway. The second you’re past the counter his hand slides down to cup your ass through the fabric of your dress. You giggle and glance behind you to make sure no one’s watching. 

The two of you slip into the office and he kicks the door shut behind him as soon as he’s through, locking it with one hand.

He leans back against the door and pulls you flush up against him, claiming your lips instantly. You slide your hands along his waist and up to his sculpted chest, relishing in the fact that you’re now able to touch his amazing body whenever you want. You lick his lower lip, sliding your tongue inside when he opens for you.

His hands find your ass and he rocks his hips into yours, mimicking the back and forth movement of his tongue. You moan into his mouth; a high, breathy sound as you feel yourself rapidly getting wet in response to his touch.

His fingers drop to the hem of your dress, caressing their way up to slide under the edge of your panties. You pull back, meeting his eyes that are dark with desire. 

“Here? Minseok, I-” you start to say. One of his hands moves down and begins stroking your aching clit, drawing a whine from your throat. Your eyes close and you grip his shoulders to stay upright.

“I’m game if you are,” he says, and when you open your eyes he’s giving you a challenging look.

You think about objecting, but his hand dips lower and he sinks a finger inside of you. You lean closer and rest your forehead against his shoulder, breathing rapidly. “Oh, fuck it. Please, I need you,” you whimper as he slips a second finger into you.

“I thought you’d never ask, honey,” he says roughly and slides your panties down your legs in a fluid motion.

You walk backward to your desk, watching him hungrily through your lashes, kicking your panties off. You lean back on the desk, spreading your legs wide for him. He unbuckles his belt in a rush, then reaches into his back pocket for a condom, tearing the wrapper. 

He settles himself between your legs and you laugh. “Prepared, were you?”

“Around you? Always,” he says, pulling out his dick and rolling the condom on. 

His hands grip your hips, tilting you off the edge of the desk and easing the tip inside of you. You let out a loud moan and clap your hand to your mouth, wincing at how loud you were. He chuckles darkly and grins at you, delighting in how eagerly you respond to him.

You wrap your legs around his waist and lean back onto an elbow, keeping one hand on your mouth to stifle any noise. He thrusts into you, sheathing himself in one motion, biting his lip to contain his groan of pleasure.

He pulls back and slams into you again, setting a rapid pace that has your eyes rolling back. You rock your hips into his, meeting him thrust for thrust. You bite down on your finger, already close to finding your release, amazed at how quickly he can affect your body. His eyes widen when he sees you bite down.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. I’m already so close. The things you do to me,” he says with a grin in-between breaths, shaking his head in amusement.

One of his arms comes around your back to keep you upright as the other comes around to resume his attention to your clit. Your vision goes white as you reach your climax, a strangled moan leaving your mouth. He slams into you, drawing out your orgasm, before releasing himself inside of you. 

You reach up to hold onto his shoulders, resting your head against his chest as you both catch your breath. His head comes to rest on top of yours, holding you close. Once you’ve calmed down you lean back to look at him, giggling as you take in his messed up appearance, knowing that you must be in a similar state.

He grins down at you, tilting to kiss you gently on the lips. “I think we’re going to have to do this more often,” he says with a raise of his brow.

“Any time, baby. Any time,” you say happily.

[agilenano]

Agilenano - News: Best 25 Orange Tapes

  Cannon Sports Orange 2-inch X 60 Yards Floor Marking TapeCannon Sports Orange 2-inch X 60 Yards Floor Marking Tape - Cannon sports floor marking tape is excellent for setting boundaries or marking key areas. Excellent for school, gym, home, and studio use. The heavy duty durable tape can be used on most surfaces for a wide variety of applications. The tape is 2-inch x 60 yards and easy to apply and remove.   MT Solids Washi Paper Masking Tape: 3/5″x33′, Shocking Orange (MT01P180)MT Solids Washi Paper Masking Tape: 3/5″x33′, Shocking Orange (MT01P180) - Manual# mt01p180. Delicate japanese style washi paper made masking tape from japanese masking tape brand mat. Mt solids washi paper masking tape 3/5 in x 33 ft (shocking orange).   YASSUN Shape of Correction Tape Double Sided Adhesive, Strong Scrapbooking Supplies for Office, Homework, Handcraft, 3 Pack, Random Blue or OrangeYASSUN Shape of Correction Tape Double Sided Adhesive, Strong Scrapbooking Supplies for Office, Homework, Handcraft, 3 Pack, Random Blue or Orange - Lightweight and easy to carry, simple color, bonded instantly, cleanly and wrinkle-free. Non-toxic pet case with a padded top for a more comfortable feel. The gel is special and can be removed by hand it can also be repaired by applying it. the dust-proof flip cover effectively protects the tape and not be easy to break down. It has strong coverage, is not easy to break, and is easy to operate after correction, it can be smoothly fed into paper and is suitable for all kinds of conventional pens.   1 Inch High Temperature Polyester Orange Masking Tape1 Inch High Temperature Polyester Orange Masking Tape - Maximum temperature 430°f total thickness 3. It is extremely economical and removes cleanly from surfaces without leaving a residue. This is ideal for applications such as taping off large surfaces, general purpose die cutting, large volume runs, and multi-bake applications. 5 mils hi-temperature silicone adhesive system removes cleanly after use no shrinkage more flexible than green poly product description this orange tape is a polyester film, single coated with a silicone pressure sensitive adhesive.   Unismar Compatible Label Tape Replacement for Brother P-Touch TZe-B51 for PT-D600 PT-P700 PT-2430PC PT-D600VP PT-D800W PT-P900W PT-P950NW Label Maker, 1″ x 26.2′, Black on Fluorescent Orange, 2-PackUnismar Compatible Label Tape Replacement for Brother P-Touch TZe-B51 for PT-D600 PT-P700 PT-2430PC PT-D600VP PT-D800W PT-P900W PT-P950NW Label Maker, 1″ x 26.2′, Black on Fluorescent Orange, 2-Pack -�� Pt-7600, pt-9200dx, pt-9200pc, pt-9400, pt-9500pc, pt-9600, pt-9700pc, pt-9800pcn, pt-d600, pt-d600vp, pt-e500, pt-e500vp, pt-e550w, pt-e550wvp, pt-h500li, pt-p700, pt-p710bt, pt-p750w, pt-p750wvp, pt-p900w, pt-p950nw. Used for brother p-touch pt-1400, pt-1500, pt-1500pc, pt-1600, pt-1900, pt-1910, pt-1950, pt-1960, pt-2110, pt-2200, pt-2210, pt-2300, pt-2310, pt-2400, pt-2410, pt-2430pc, pt-2470, pt-2500pc, pt-2600, pt-2610, pt-2700, pt-2710, pt-2730, pt-2730vp, pt-330, pt-350, pt-3600, pt-520, pt-530, pt-540, pt-550, pt-580c, pt-7500. Unismar is committed to satisfy each of its customer, our friendly customer service professionals are always standing by to help🥰. Package includes 2 pack compatible for brother p-touch tze b51 laminated labeling tape, color black on fluorescent orange, size24mm (1”) x 8m (262feet). feature split backing for easy peeling, water resistant, fade resistant, abrasion resistant, chemical resistant, temperature resistant, print clear and durable labels.   Partners Brand PT937003D Tape Logic Masking Tape, 2″ x 60 yd, Orange (Pack of 24)Partners Brand PT937003D Tape Logic Masking Tape, 2″ x 60 yd, Orange (Pack of 24) - Designed for medium temperature applications. 24 per case. Stain and solvent resistant.   GaffTech T13OR3 GT Pro Matte Cloth Neon Orange Tape Roll, 3 InchGaffTech T13OR3 GT Pro Matte Cloth Neon Orange Tape Roll, 3 Inch - Gt pro is a high strength premium gaffer’s tape for professional uses. Being a very low sheen, coated cloth tape with a synthetic rubber-based adhesive, gt pro is highly conformable, and is both hand tearable and weather resistant.   Colored Orange Masking Tape, 1 Inch x 60 Yds Per Roll (12 Rolls), Thick 4.9 Mil Multi Use for Identification, Painting, Labeling, Packing, Arts and Crafts, Home and OfficeColored Orange Masking Tape, 1 Inch x 60 Yds Per Roll (12 Rolls), Thick 4.9 Mil Multi Use for Identification, Painting, Labeling, Packing, Arts and Crafts, Home and Office - Designed for medium temperature applications. 1″ x 60 yds. Stain and solvent resistant. Use colored masking tape to color code shipments or for inventory identification. Orange (12 pack) tape logic masking tape.   LM Tapes – 6/Pack Premium 3/8″ Black Print on Bright Orange Label (9mm 0.35 Laminated) Compatible with P-Touch TZe-B21 Tape and Comes with Great Tape Color/Size Guide for Easy reordering.LM Tapes – 6/Pack Premium 3/8″ Black Print on Bright Orange Label (9mm 0.35 Laminated) Compatible with P-Touch TZe-B21 Tape and Comes with Great Tape Color/Size Guide for Easy reordering. - They have regular strength adhesive and are best suited for smooth flat surfaces. 2′ in length and can be used for both indoor and outdoor applications. For use in p-touch models pt18r, pt200, pt300, pt310, pt320, pt330, pt340, pt350, pt520, pt530, pt540, pt550, pt580c, pt1000, pt1010, pt1090, pt1090bk, pt1100, pt1100sb, pt1120, pt1130, pt1160, pt1170s, pt1180, pt1190, pt1200, pt1230pc, pt1280, pt128af, pt1290, pt1300, pt1400, pt1500pc, pt1600, pt1650, pt1700, pt1750, pt1760, pt1800, pt1810, pt1830, pt1880, pt1900, pt1910, pt1950, pt1960, pt2030, pt2030ad, pt2030vp, pt2100, pt2110, pt2200, pt2210, pt2300, pt2310, pt2400, pt2410, pt2430pc, pt2500pc, pt2600, pt2610, pt2700, pt2710, pt2730, pt2730vp, pt3600, pt6100, pt7100, pt7500, pt7600, pt9200dx, pt9200pc, pt9400, pt9500pc, pt9600, pt9700pc, pt9800pcn, ptd200, ptd400, ptd400ad, ptd400vp, ptd450, ptd600, pte100, pte300, pte500, pte550w, pth100, pth101c, pth105, pth110, pth300, pth300li, pth500li, ptp700, ptp750w, ptp900w, ptp950w, st5, st1150, st1150dx. 6/pack lm tapes lme-b21 laminated 9mm black print on bright orange label this premium compatible tze-b21 3/8″ black on bright orange tape is compatible with brother p-touch label makers that use tze series tapes but is not manufactured or sold by brother. These labels are rugged and will holdup in freezing temperatures as well has hot/sunny environments. 35) x 26.   this replacement laminated label tape is 3/8″ (9mm 0.   Genuine Brother 1″ (24mm) Black on Bright Orange TZe P-touch Tape for Brother PT-7500, PT7500 Label MakerGenuine Brother 1″ (24mm) Black on Bright Orange TZe P-touch Tape for Brother PT-7500, PT7500 Label Maker - This laminated label tape is 1″ (24mm) x 26. Brother tze-b51 p-touch tapes are laminated and can be used for both indoor and outdoor applications. Genuine brother tzeb51 black on bright orange p-touch tape. 2′ in length and used in the pt-7500 p-touch label maker.   Leather Repair Tape 3X60 inch Patch Leather Adhesive for Sofas, Car Seats, Handbags, Jackets,First Aid Patch (Smooth Weave Orange)Leather Repair Tape 3X60 inch Patch Leather Adhesive for Sofas, Car Seats, Handbags, Jackets,First Aid Patch (Smooth Weave Orange) - Wide application leather repair tape fit for couches, sofas, chair, car seat, bags, purse , boots, jacket, belts , luggage, gloves, motorcycle seats, recliner, handbag, truck seat, suitcases and other leather furnitures. Leather repair tape size 3′ x60″ (inches) enough length beyond your imagination. Carefully match maybe what you looked on screen color as closely as impossible the real items so please carefully match color before you order just contact us if you have any puzzles of color, we are glad to serve you. Good quality 100% eco-friendly, no pungent more durable leather and non-residual adhesive paste strong, paste on a few seconds and leather that never leaves scratches. Appearance is luxurious paste in the break or stain is not easy to be found you can also cut it into various shapes with scissors easily.   Scotch Painter’s Tape 2020+OR24CP Scotch Masking Tape, 0.94″ Width, OrangeScotch Painter’s Tape 2020+OR24CP Scotch Masking Tape, 0.94″ Width, Orange - Recommended for use with or on lacquer coatings. Tape application tips for great paint results make sure the surface is clean, dry and dust-free so that the tape sticks properly next, apply the tape onto the surface while pressing down firmly as you go and lastly, let the tape set for about 30 to 60 minutes before painting. 3-day clean removal leaving behind no damage or sticky residue. Strong adhesive. Bonds aggressively, yet has a smooth unwind. Designed for use on vinyl, carpet, metal, and plastic. Tape removal tips wait until the paint is dry to the touch before removing the tape lift the tape up by slowly pulling it back on itself, then removing at a 45-degree angle. Pack size 9 rolls/pack. Size 094 in x 601 yd.   ProTapes Pro Duct 120 PE-Coated Cloth Premium Industrial Grade Duct Tape, 60 yds Length x 2″ Width, Orange (Pack of 1)ProTapes Pro Duct 120 PE-Coated Cloth Premium Industrial Grade Duct Tape, 60 yds Length x 2″ Width, Orange (Pack of 1) - Excellent holding power. 50-ounces per inches adhesion to steel. 50 to 200 degrees f operating temperature. Easy unwind and tear. 1 (low emitting materials) under leed. Excellent conformability and tack. Waterproof, polyethylene film with a polyester/cotton blend cloth carrier backing with natural rubber adhesive. Features quick stick, good adhesion, good tensile strength, short term, high temperature resistance, outdoor use, highly conformable, hand tearable, waterproof backing, weather resistant. Having 27-pounds per inches of tensile strength. It is also used for carton sealing, book binding, seat repair, splicing, packaging, masking, holding and bundling. Ul 723 listed. Waterproof backing. Can contribute toward satisfying eq credit 4. Pro 120 is a good utility grade duct tape used in the automotive industry and commercial trucks. Pro 120 is typically used in the hvac industry on sheet metal and flex duct. Protape 120 is a industrial grade cloth duct tape. Measures 60-yards length by 2-inches width by 10-mils thickness. Available in orange color.   Tangerine Orange Themed Decorative Washi Masking Tape – for Scrapbooking, Art & Decoration Projects – Orange, Polka Dot, Zig Zag, Stars, Bubbles – (15mm x 10m) – by Washi.Design (Tangerine)Tangerine Orange Themed Decorative Washi Masking Tape – for Scrapbooking, Art & Decoration Projects – Orange, Polka Dot, Zig Zag, Stars, Bubbles – (15mm x 10m) – by Washi.Design (Tangerine) - These tapes are easily repositionable without leaving sticky residue, expanding your creativity by being colorful and writable to create as many designs you need. Premium japanese washi paper tape of 15 cm (059 in) in width and 10 m (328 ft) in length gives you plenty of usage, unlike other tapes of smaller size and length. Tangerine washi chevron, zig zag, polka dot, star, bubble, colors orange, yellow, red, pink, white and tangerine. Highest quality premium washi tapes, writable, tearable and waterproof, in compliance with astm d4236 standards, quality controlled and assembled in toronto, canada. Expand your creative toolkit, great for scrapbooking, diy projects such as wall art, reminder sticky, labels, or decorating tools, cellphone cases, laptop, notebooks, picture frames and gift wrapping for family or friends.   SuperInk 4 Pack Compatible for DYMO 18435 Black on Orange Industrial Permanent Vinyl Label Tape (1/2 Inch x 18 Feet 12mm x 5.5m) for Wires Cables use in Rhino 4200 5200 5000 6000 Label MakerSuperInk 4 Pack Compatible for DYMO 18435 Black on Orange Industrial Permanent Vinyl Label Tape (1/2 Inch x 18 Feet 12mm x 5.5m) for Wires Cables use in Rhino 4200 5200 5000 6000 Label Maker - Vinyl label offer moisture, chemical and uv resistance, making them ideal for labeling both indoors and outdoors,regardless of the texture surface or cables and wires. Our replacement dymo vinyl labels are great for indoor application adhere to most smooth, flat and dry surfaces, including plastic, paper, metal, wood and glass. Color black on orange, length55m(18feet), width12mm(1/2”). Compatibilitydymo rhino 1000,rhino 3000,rhino 4200,rhino 5000,rhino 5200,rhino 6000,dymo labelmanager,dymo labelwriter 450 duo,dymo ilp 219,3m pl150,3m pl200,3m pl300 older rhino label makers. Superink alternative replacement compatible for dymo 18435 preminum vinyl label makers.   NEOUZA 3PK Compatible for Brother P-Touch Laminated TZe TZ Label Tape Cartridge 12mm x 5m (TZe-B31 Black on Orange Fluorescent)NEOUZA 3PK Compatible for Brother P-Touch Laminated TZe TZ Label Tape Cartridge 12mm x 5m (TZe-B31 Black on Orange Fluorescent) - 100% compatible for brother p-touchperfect for everyday applicationsthese labels stay on under normal indoor and outdoor use,including hot and cold environmentsbest suited for smooth flat surfacespt-d200g,pt-d800w,pt-e110,pt-h100p,pt-h100r,pt-h110bk,p-touch cube,blue,p-touch cube,white,p-touch embellish,pt-p900. Pt-1750sc,pt-1800,pt-1810,pt-1830,pt-1830c,pt-1830sc,pt-1830vp,pt-1880,pt-1880c,pt-1880sc,pt-1880w,pt-1890c,pt-1890sc,pt-1890w,pt-18r,pt-18rkt,pt-1900,pt-1900c,pt-1910,pt-1950,pt-1960,pt-200,pt-2030,pt-2030ad,pt-2030vp,pt-2100,pt-2110, pt-2200,pt-2210,pt-2300,pt-2310,pt-2400,pt-2410,pt-2430pc,pt-2470,pt-2500pc,pt-2600,pt-2610,pt-2700,pt-2710,pt-2730,pt-2730vp,pt-300,pt-300b,pt-310,pt-310b, pt-320,pt-330,pt-340,pt-350,pt-3600,pt-4000,pt-520,pt-530,pt-540,pt-550. For use with brother p-touchgl-100,pt-1000,pt-1000bm,pt-1010,pt-1010b, pt-1010nb, pt-1010r,pt-1010rdt,pt-1010s,pt-1090,pt-1090bk,pt-1100,pt-1100ql,pt1100sb,pt-1100sbvp,pt-1100st,pt-1120,pt-1130,pt-1160,pt-1170,pt-1170s,pt-1180,pt-1180sc,pt-1180sp,pt-1190,pt-11q,pt-1200,pt-1230pc,pt-1280,pt-1280bt,pt-1280sp,pt-1280sr,pt-1280tg,pt-1280vp,pt-128af,pt-1290,pt-1290bt,pt-1290bt2,pt-1290rs,pt-1290sbvp,pt-1300,pt-1400,pt-1500,pt-1500pc,pt-1600,pt-1700,pt-1750. Pt-580c,pt-6100,pt-7100,pt-7500,pt-7600,pt-9200dx,pt-9200pc,pt-9400,pt-9500pc, pt-9600,pt-9700pc,pt-9800pcn,pt-d200,pt-d200bt,pt-d200da,pt-d200ma,pt-d200sa,pt-d210,pt-d210bk,pt-d400,pt-d400ad,pt-d400vp,pt-d450,pt-d600,pt-d600vp,pt-e100, pt-e300,pt-e300vp,pt-e500,pt-e500vp,pt-e550w,pt-e550wvp,pt-h100,pt-h105,pt-h110,pt-h300,pt-h300li,pt-h500li,pt-p700,pt-p750w,pt-p750wvp,pt-p900,pt-p900w,pt-p950nw,st-1150,st-1150dx,st-5,pt-h101c,gl-h100. 2 years replacement warranty 3pk compatible for brother p-touch tze b31 black on fluo orange length 5m (164ft) width 12mm (1/2 inch).   Best Creation Washi Tape, 30mm/5m, OrangeBest Creation Washi Tape, 30mm/5m, Orange - Washi tape in a rosemary tea party pattern, great for any arts and craft project to put a nice and delightful elegant touch. Acid and lignin free.   Allied Tools Flagging Tape 150′ OrangeAllied Tools Flagging Tape 150′ Orange - We stand behind everything we build and a guaranteed forever warranty for the life of the product. This is a great item to have in home, office, auto and marine. For nearly 40 years, allied international has been committed to satisfying what you look for in hand tools, products that perform at an outstanding value. The black end of the knife comes off to become the tool to snap the blade safely and quickly snaps back into place. Allied snap knife are a great way to cut when you need the sharpest of edge all the time. Within 10 seconds you can snap off the perforated blade and have a new cutting point for superior performance.   Wrapables Colorful Patterns Washi Masking Tape, Orange ArrowWrapables Colorful Patterns Washi Masking Tape, Orange Arrow - However, washi also can be made using bamboo, hemp, rice, and wheat. Use these tapes for decorating your planner or calendar, tape up your photos or decorate your photo album with them, or use them for gift wrapping purposes. Have fun decorating your stationery and art projects with these washi masking tape washi is a style of paper that is made by hand in the traditional manner. It is made of natural fibers commonly from the bark of the gampi tree, mitsumata shrub, or mulberry. Our washi masking tape is not only strong, but the decorative designs are attractive as well.   Lufkin PQR1425 Quickread Power Return Tape, 1-Inch by 25-Feet, Hi-Viz OrangeLufkin PQR1425 Quickread Power Return Tape, 1-Inch by 25-Feet, Hi-Viz Orange - The new case design fits comfortably in your hand. The exclusive pivot lock makes reach and securing the tape even easier. The patented quad rivet end hook resists wear and provides longer tape life. Includes an a3 blade, vertical numbering, fractional and decimal equivalent, graduated feet and-inch to 1/16th top and bottom.   2/Pack LM Tapes – Premium 3/4″ Black Print on Bright Orange Label Compatible with Brother TZe-B41 P-Touch Tape and Comes with a Great Tape Color/Size Guide for Easy reordering. 18mm 0.7 Laminated2/Pack LM Tapes – Premium 3/4″ Black Print on Bright Orange Label Compatible with Brother TZe-B41 P-Touch Tape and Comes with a Great Tape Color/Size Guide for Easy reordering. 18mm 0.7 Laminated - 7) x 26. For use in p-touch model pt18r, pt300, pt310, pt320, pt330, pt340, pt350, pt520, pt530, pt540, pt550, pt580c, pt1300, pt1400, pt1500pc, pt1600, pt1650, pt1700, pt1750, pt1760, pt1800, pt1810, pt1830, pt1880, pt1900, pt1910, pt1950, pt1960, pt2030, pt2030ad, pt2030vp, pt2100, pt2110, pt2200, pt2210, pt2300, pt2310, pt2400, pt2410, pt2430pc, pt2500pc, pt2600, pt2610, pt2700, pt2710, pt2730, pt2730vp, pt3600, pt7500, pt7600, pt9200dx, pt9200pc, pt9400, pt9500pc, pt9600, pt9700pc, pt9800pcn, ptd400, ptd400ad, ptd400vp, ptd450, ptd600, pte300, pte500, pte550w, pth300, pth300li, pth500li, ptp700, ptp750w, ptp900w, ptp950w, st5. They have regular strength adhesive and are best suited for smooth flat surfaces. 2/pack lm tapes, lme-b41 laminated 18mm black print on bright orange label this premium compatible tze-b41 3/4″ black on bright orange p-touch tape is compatible with brother p-touch label makers that use tze series tapes. This compatible tape is not manufactured or sold by brother. These labels are rugged and will holdup in freezing temperatures as well has hot/sunny environments. This replacement laminated label tape is 3/4″ (18mm 0. 2′ in length and can be used for both indoor and outdoor applications.   Partners Brand PT934003D Tape Logic Masking Tape, 3/4″ x 60 yd, Orange (Pack of 48)Partners Brand PT934003D Tape Logic Masking Tape, 3/4″ x 60 yd, Orange (Pack of 48) - Designed for medium temperature applications. Stain and solvent resistant. 48 per case.   Brother Genuine P-touch TZE-B41 Tape, 3/4″ (0.7″) Wide Standard Laminated Tape, Black on Fluorescent Orange, Laminated for Indoor or Outdoor Use, Water-Resistant, 0.7″ x 16.4′ (18mm x 5M), TZEB41Brother Genuine P-touch TZE-B41 Tape, 3/4″ (0.7″) Wide Standard Laminated Tape, Black on Fluorescent Orange, Laminated for Indoor or Outdoor Use, Water-Resistant, 0.7″ x 16.4′ (18mm x 5M), TZEB41 - Get noticed the brightness of this label tape is ideal for a wide range of applications superior quality and unbeatable performance even in fluctuating temperatures. Compatible with brother label makers pt2730, pt2730vp, ptd400, ptd400ad, ptd400vp, ptd450, ptd600, ptd600vp, pth500li, ptp700, ptp710bt, and more. Weather resistant this bright, vivid label tape’s laminated surface resists smearing from water, making it ideal for use outdoors. Indoor/outdoor use use these versatile labels indoors or outdoors they also resist dirt and grime. Bright and clear vivid fluorescent orange and crisp black text make these tzeb41 labels stand out easily use them to draw attention to important, dangerous, or otherwise high-profile items.   3M Performance Flatback Tape 2525, Orange, 72 mm x 55 m, 9.5 mil3M Performance Flatback Tape 2525, Orange, 72 mm x 55 m, 9.5 mil - Ideal for use in paper mills, converting and manufacturing facilities. Resistant to moist conditions for lasting hold. Natural rubber adhesive offers dependable tack and holding power. Can withstand a bake cycle up to 300°f/149°c for up to one hour. Can withstand temperatures of 300°f (149°c) for one hour. Available in orange. Durable backing can be torn by hand, yet is suitable for machine dispensing. Natural rubber adhesive offers good adhesion to porous and rough surfaces. Orange color helps provide easy identification of splices in high speed operations. Designed for high temperature splicing and paint masking. Offers quick and simple roll starting and roll closure.   Carton Sealing Tape 2″ x 110 yds 2 mils, several colors, OrangeCarton Sealing Tape 2″ x 110 yds 2 mils, several colors, Orange - Adhesion 22 oz/in tensile 18 lbs/in elongation at break . #Office

Agilenano - News from Agilenano from shopsnetwork (4 sites) https://agilenano.com/blogs/news/best-25-orange-tapes-1

[cardealershipsalesblog]

All About Toyota Cars

Toyota has been well known in the automobile industry from quite a while in view of the immense highlights it offers. Toyota cars are safe, reliable, fuel-efficient, having incredible execution, solidly built quality. The fundamental witticism of Toyota is to give solace and wellbeing to its clients with every single current innovation. It offers a wide range of cars including sedans, sports car, SUVs, hybrids, minivan and trucks. Toyota considers its costumers it offers vehicle from low spending plan to luxury vehicle.

The brand is offering ToyotaCare plan with all new cars which are a maintenance plan it covers normal factory scheduled service for 2 years or 25,000 miles and 24 hours Roadside Assistance for 2years, unlimited mileage.

Toyota hybrids come with battery warranty of 10 years or 150,000 miles. These cars have the very good fuel-tank capacity and are more efficient. Hybrid is designed in a way so that there will be less wear and tear and fewer parts replacement problems. As far as styling you will be amazed by the stylish design.

Service and Maintenance

The brand has its own Toyota application so that you can connect to your vehicle. The application will notify you for service and maintenance and you can schedule easily and get exciting deals. The application can be connected to a smartwatch and you can remotely access your car.

Toyota is offering so many connected services like safety connect, remote connect, destination assist, Wi-Fi connect and so forth to make things simpler for you.

Rebates and Incentives

Toyota offers a special rebate to military people that can be utilized while getting a new Toyota vehicle or leased through franchised Toyota dealer. It also has college rebate programs for students leasing or financing their vehicles, this is applicable on all new and unlicensed Toyota vehicles. Certified Pre-Owned vehicles of toyota and scion are not eligible for this program. There is a special benefits program for customers who have previously leased or financed vehicle.

Numerous on-going local special offers are going on like cashback offers, less annual rates, special edition bonus are here

Finance and Leasing

Various lease options are also available like paying a single amount on first or if you don’t use your car than your lease value can be decreased or you can have multiple securities deposit. On the ending of a car lease, you have three choices either you can lease a new Toyota or you can purchase the one you are driving or you can return the one.

There are finance programs for buying or leasing a car. Regardless of whether you have a long credit history or short or bad credit score they manage with all of them. The preferred plan is in which you have to pay low regularly scheduled instalments and the large final amount at the end. One more financing program for people limited credit is available

Safety and Protection

Vehicle protection plan for new, certified pre-owned or leased Toyota is available in which you can have protection for tire and wheel. Vehicle service agreement for repairs those are not included in standard warranty. Guarantee auto protection is also there to get you some amount in case your car is complete lose. Pre-paid maintenance plans are also there to keep your vehicle running smooth and help with rising maintenance costs.

Each new Toyota accompanies Toyota Safety Sense which has all latest safety technology that concerns about your safety.

Comfort

Toyota thinks about your comfort for that it offers large legroom space, cargo space, and comfortable seats in its vehicles.To make cars more comfortable Toyota offers so many features in its car i.e. power-adjustable driver’s seat, 60/40-split-folding back seat. In some models, they offer heated ventilated seats and leather seats.

Parts and Accessories

Toyota deals in its own parts and accessories for every make and model. If you are thinking of customizing your Toyota. You can easily shop the parts and accessories from their department and have the vehicle of your choice in your hand.

Best-Selling Cars

Toyota Camry and Toyota Corolla are the best- selling cars from Toyota all the time. They are overall great cars that offer great performance, reliability, comfort and all modern safety features with sleek styling.

Best Cars for Snow

Toyota RAV4, Toyota Highlander and Toyota 4Runner are best in bad weather conditions because of their powerful engine, strong drivetrains, All Wheel Drive and good tire-gripping in a snow-covered road. They have so many features like limited-slip locking centre differential, skidplates, hill-start assist etc. which makes them best in bad weather.

Most Reliable Cars

Safety and reliability have been key elements of Toyota. Toyota Prius Prime, Toyota Yaris, Toyota Camry and Toyota Corolla are on the list because of their unwavering quality. They are the most practical car that you can choose for your family. You can also check most reliable used cars.

Safest Cars

Toyota concern about safety in all cars but Toyota Corolla and Toyota Camry are being best in safety, they have vast security features and well inspected by experts.

Best Pre-Owned Cars

At some point we think of buying a used car only thought that comes in mind is what is best among all. Toyota Avalon, Toyota Sienna, Toyota Highlander, Toyota Camry and Toyota Prius are famous in the used market as they have great toughness and execution.

Get to know more about Toyota Prius, read our review about it.

Best Hybrid Cars

Everyone is looking for a hybrid car. The main concern is about their gas tank and battery limit don’t worry these have a huge gas tank or batteries to make them ease on long trips also they offer good performance and solace. Toyota Camry Hybrid, Toyota Avalon Hybrid and Toyota RAV4 Hybrid are best of Toyota in hybrid cars.

Best Resale Value Vehicles

We can’t drive a vehicle always sooner or later need to deal it. It’s acceptable to get great resale estimation of an old vehicle so we can utilize that cash on new or for some other reason. Toyota Tacoma, Toyota Tundra and Toyota 4Runner are well known in the previously-owned vehicle and have best resale value after quite a while moreover.

Luxury Cars

Toyota Land Cruiser, Toyota Sequoia and Toyota Mirai are luxury vehicles of Toyota; these cars have great interior, bold exterior designs, impressive engine performance, advanced safety features, cutting edge infotainment systems and every single other element that you expect in a luxury vehicle.

Most Fuel-Efficient Cars

The majority of us search for fuel efficiency; Toyota Yaris, Toyota Yaris Hatchback and Toyota Corolla are cars which has estimated 41 highway MPG in a fuel-efficient car and 36 highway MPG in a gas-efficient car. These are ideal for comfort and have best-in-class ten standard airbag system.

Toyota Sports Car

Toyota has solved the less practical problem of the sports car by offering Toyota 86 and Toyota GR Supra which has staggering looks, stylish interior, great performance and handling. Experience the fun and reliability in a sports car.

Low Budget cars

Toyota concerns about every customer need and their budget. Its motto is to give every customer a decent car even in low budget. Toyota Yaris, Toyota Yaris Hatchback, Toyota Corolla and Toyota Corolla Hatchback have great execution, durability, comfort. Keeping low budget in mind these are cars under 20000

[marksautotrim]

How to find car seat cover in Oshawa Ontario

Purchasing a car is a significant interest in your life. Along these lines, you have to endeavor in keeping up the vehicle in a decent condition to empower it last longer. Try not to expect that the manufacture's parts will keep going forever. You have to do substitutions when there is a need. The greater part of the occasions you find that the seats of your vehicle have exhausted. This might be because of spills or harm by the sun. This is a call to replace with new car Seat covers in Oshawa Ontario from an extraordinary seller in Oshawa Ontario. You have to ensure that the seat covers are introduced splendidly to cover or replace the harmed ones. When you choose to change the car seat covers, you will experience a troublesome circumstance choosing the best cover from the store. This disarray happens when you are a learner or when you have an assortment of choices to pick. You have to devote your time checking the correct cover for your car seats. Search for the covers that will fulfill you and keep the car clean. The accompanying tips will manage you in settling on your choice.

In the event that your seats are stained from long periods of spilled espresso and sloppy pet paws, you might need to patch up your inside with a lot of best Car carpet in Oshawa Ontario and seat covers. Seat protectors inhale new life into your inside, concealing old stains and tears while including extraordinary style you won't discover in plant seats. They likewise secure your seats against wear and square future stains. Regardless of whether you're into great, extravagance, or current dashing style, you can give your character a chance to become the dominant center point with these extravagant and functional inside accents.

Materials

You can pick the best that you like from different materials. These materials have favorable circumstances and burdens. You have to concentrate on significant parts of the cover, for example, the strength, the production's model, and the way of life. Materials can be shoddy just as costly ones. The various materials accessible in the market incorporate the neoprene, velour, leather finally the canvas. You need to investigate the descriptions of the materials and pick the best for your vehicle.

Size

You need to know the definite components of the seat of your vehicle before you purchase the seat covers. Guarantee that the covers fit flawlessly to the seat to make the travelers of anybody sitting on it to feel great. You can likewise choose to have the movable covers relying upon the sort and size of the vehicle you have. You have to check if the seats have some inbuilt gadgets or fittings that may require flexible covers.

The ideal tailor

You are required to locate an expert tailor who will plan the seat covers for your car splendidly. The tailor will decide the excellence of your car by the sort of structure the person is accomplishing for the seats. Locate a specialist in the stores or request references from partners. The master ought to guarantee that the vehicle is flawlessly replaced conveniently.

The quality of the cover

You have to measure the nature of the cover you are purchasing. Be that as it may, the quality relies upon the material used to make the cover. It additionally fluctuates with the cost, however you have to concentrate on the support as opposed to cost. You ought to likewise ensure that the quality that you purchase is safe. Some car seat covers breaks effectively and makes you awkward when you are driving. Endeavor to discover covers that can be dependable and can't warm effectively when the temperature in the vehicle rises unexpectedly.

In case you're searching for a definitive seat covers that offer both fantastic assurance and a tasteful, redid look, you might need to think about putting cash into a fitted plan. Uniquely designed fitted covers will unquestionably come including some hidden costs, however they'll offer a tight fit to such a degree, that they seem as though they're a unique piece of the car's inside instead of a post-retail vehicle embellishment. Fitted seat covers come in huge amounts of various assortments. You can look over Leather car seat repair Oshawa Ontario or texture just as a large number of surfaces, hues and examples. Truth be told, you can even purchase covers exceptionally intended for going on family travels with pets or kids. As far as possible is your creative mind, and obviously your financial limit!  You may expect your vehicle's factory seats are holding up fine and dandy. In any case, as they start to age, they may encounter extreme mileage from spills, dirt, pets, and sun harm. These outcomes in your seats look dull and feeling less good. There is an answer for every one of these issues however and that comes as "vehicle seat covers".

Giving most extreme security to your vehicle seats, offering a custom search for your inside, and concealing existing harm to your seats, these covers are a fantastic method to guarantee your vehicle looks perfect and immaculate within.

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “Put It All In Writing” (Rated NC17)

Blaine loses Kurt, but is anyone really lost if you remember them? (3577 words)

This is another re-write. I didn’t know how to rate this, so I made it NC17 for the subject matter and for some of the imagery. Warning for heavy angst, character death, anxiety, generic talk of injuries (limb loss), non-graphic thoughts of suicide. Another one with a bittersweet-ish happy ending depending upon your interpretation.

Read on AO3.

Phantom pain.

It’s a ridiculous name for what Blaine’s going through. The term phantom pain makes it sound more like he gained a demonic spirit when in reality he lost a limb. 

His right arm - gone. Now he’s going to have to become romantically acquainted with his left hand. He gives it a shot when he finally gets a moment alone, when the nurses and doctors leave his room and he has a rare precious second to himself. He breathes in deep and exhales out slowly through tight lips. He reaches beneath his hospital gown. The first time he thought about masturbating here, he was cockblocked by a catheter. Now that they pulled it, he is free to try and jerk off at his leisure. He wraps his fingers, weak and shaky, around his flaccid cock. Lying in the uncomfortable hospital bed, he shifts awkwardly, trying to find a position that works better, that gives him a little leverage to compensate for muscles that refuse to work, but that’s not the problem. He’s never done this with his left hand before. It feels too foreign, not even like himself doing it, but a stranger.

It doesn’t matter.

It’s not the hand he wants.

He lets go and rolls onto his side, giving up.

He shuts his eyes and goes over the schedule for the day in his head:

Plans made for his release.

Preparations for outpatient physical and occupational therapy.

Psych evaluations.

Support groups.

A brand new apartment.

All ways of getting over his loss and moving on.

But the doctors are wrong, each and every one of them.

The phantom pain that incapacitates him has nothing to do with his missing arm and everything to do with his missing heart, lying on a gurney and locked in the refrigerator (the nurse’s words, not his) down in the morgue.

Kurt … waiting for Blaine to come down and say goodbye.

Blaine’s brother arrives after lunch to take him home.

Well, not home really, but the place he’ll be living for now on.

His parents can’t make it. Like with every monumental event in his life, they are otherwise occupied, escaping responsibility and reality by being as busy as possible. This once, Blaine can’t blame them. He doesn’t have much to say on behalf of his parents, but with all of their faults, there was one thing they did right.

They loved Kurt, too.

In the end, Blaine can’t say goodbye. He gets into the elevator with his brother holding his hand and a sympathetic female nurse smiling supportively by his side. But as they descend, as he sees the passing floors (when the doors open and other passengers get on and off) become emptier and darker, he feels a weight settle over him. The air becomes chill. Everything becomes quieter.

And Blaine can feel ghosts watching him.

Two floors above their intended destination, Blaine starts to hyperventilate. He pushes the red stop button and collapses to the floor, sobbing and choking like a lost child. He doesn’t want to see his husband because it won’t be him. It’s not Kurt lying on a metal slab in some dark box keeping him cold. It’s just a body, a corpse. It won’t have his heat, his smell, his smile, his beautiful blue eyes, and his voice that will haunt Blaine until the day he turns up his toes and joins him.

The nurse and his brother argue, voices muffled, as if he’s hearing them from beneath a pool of water, and Blaine’s drowning while they’re debating whether he should go back to his room or go home. His brother wins, pushing the button for the lobby and practically carrying Blaine away, with the disgruntled nurse padding after them, muttering her objections until she realizes it won’t do any good and lets them go.

Blaine falls asleep in the back seat of his brother’s rented town car with his head on his brother’s shoulder. He doesn’t remember knocking out, but mere seconds after sitting on the leather upholstery, his brother shakes him awake.

Blaine wishes he hadn’t.

With his face tilted toward the sunlight, he was dreaming about lying on the beach beside Kurt, holding hands and listening to the waves hit the shore.

When he opens his eyes, the bright day outside meets the brightness behind his eyes, but the real world is much more bleak.

“Come on, squirt,” his brother says. “Come see your new home.”

Blaine gets out of the car and follows him, but he feels so far from it.

Blaine doesn’t really know where they are, only that it’s in the same building as his brother and sister-in-law. He has to give Cooper credit. He’d never been around much for him growing up, but he’s definitely making up for that now. A new apartment, still smelling of fresh carpet and paint, and not a single shred of his old life to be found – no pictures, none of Kurt’s carefully chosen furnishings, none of Kurt’s clothing or accessories or toiletries. Theoretically, a brand new start, a completely clean slate, but it’s not. The ghosts followed Blaine there, and he finds himself, night after night, awake on the sofa watching Korean soap operas, needing the verbal static to keep him sane.

His first week alone is nothing more than one long day punctuated by stretches of dark in between and a myriad of appointments so similar and unexceptional that they all bleed one into the other. A taxi takes him to doctor A, and an hour later from doctor A to doctor B, and again an hour later to doctor C. It’s like déjà vu starting from the drop off at the curb; to the long, musty elevator rides to the exact same looking office in seven different buildings; sitting on similar, brown leather sofas, kept company by familiar-looking potted ferns, and gazing blankly out identical, rectangular windows.

Each doctor/counselor has their own spin on his situation, and each appointment is capped off with the gift of a journal to chronicle his struggle, his pain.

Acknowledge that it’s real. Put it all in writing.

“It’s okay to talk about your feelings.” journal

“It’s okay to keep it inside.” journal

“It’s okay to reach out to others and ask for help.” journal

“It’s okay to be alone, take time for yourself.” journal

And his favorite of the bunch: “The universe/fate/God has a plan. There are no accidents. Everything happens for a reason, even if you can’t see it yet. Live your life, continue on, and eventually, it will become clear.” journal, journal, journal

Because of that final platitude, Blaine starts doing things that have absolutely no rhyme or reason.

He walks into the kitchen in the morning, fills his mug with hot coffee, and leaves it on the counter. An hour later, he returns and knocks it to the floor, letting it shatter into a hundred pieces. Then he walks away from the mess, leaving it to ruin the tile.

The next day, he buys a box of cronuts - a baker’s dozen, courtesy of the young woman behind the counter, who makes heart eyes at him, even though he grunts when he talks to her and looks like the walking dead – sits on his living room floor, and devours them one by one. He shoves them in his mouth whole, barely chews, then forces the large pieces down his throat with painful gulps. Later on, he throws it all back up. He doesn’t eat anything else for the rest of the day.

The day after that, he goes to every thrift store he can find within walking distance of his apartment and buys every used knife they sell. When he has more than enough to open his own abattoir, he starts jamming the blades into the walls. It takes all his strength, but he does it anyway, lines the hallways and the living room, stabbing straight through the dry wall, stopping in the bedroom where he does the most damage – three hundred and fifty two knives in total, until his palm is blistered and the space between his thumb and forefinger bleed.

He goes back to his soaps and doesn’t look at the knives again till bedtime.

He follows the path they make, brushing his bruised palms along the handles, but stops in the doorway of his bedroom when his attention is drawn to the far wall. He was certain he had stabbed the wall randomly, but instead he had created a mosaic in cutlery of a single word – Kurt.

Blaine doesn’t go back into the bedroom for several days after that, not until his brother and a few friends come over, remove all the knives, and repair the walls.

From that day on, Blaine refuses to leave his apartment. He doesn’t go to the doctors. He doesn’t visit his brother. He doesn’t get his mail or answer the door when anyone comes to call. He doesn’t shave or change out of his pajamas. He doesn’t even bathe. One evening, he discovers that his normal Korean soap has gone on hiatus and has been replaced with some game show where contestants take bites out of random objects in a room to see which ones are made out of chocolate.

For the first time in over a month, he turns off the TV.

He collects up the journals, seven in all, and stacks them in the center of the living room. Then he sits down with the column of journals in front of him. He takes the first one, opens it, and tears the pages from the spine one by one. It’s difficult at first, having to hold the journal open with his leg and grab the pages with his least used hand, but soon he gets a rhythm going. He concentrates on the sound of paper rending, the thud-thud-thud as he slowly pulls it from the binding, or the loud screech when he rips it out quickly.

With the first journal in shreds, he tosses the binding aside and does the same to each of the remaining journals, tearing the pages out as time ticks by around him. His hand is sore when he reaches the final journal, but that doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care if it hurts. He doesn’t care if it gets stuck in the garbage disposal, or chewed off by a dog. He’s more than likely never going to play the piano again. Or the violin. Or the guitar. And he sure as hell is never going to touch his husband again.

He might as well chop off the useless thing.

He opens the last journal and grabs the top corner of the first page, preparing to rip, but then he looks at the page and stops. All of the journals before this one had been identical – black faux leather covers and lined pages, as if there was some grief relief supply store that every doctor shopped at and bought these things in bulk, wholesale no less. But this final journal was a light, walnut brown color, the binding soft instead of rigid, and the pages edged in gold. He can’t remember which of the otherwise nameless PhD’s had given him this one – the grief counselor with the silver-rimmed glasses and the tremulous little smile, or the body dysmorphia counselor who was once a drill sergeant in the marines before he lost both his legs and found his higher calling. Either way, something about this journal speaks to him, and no matter how hard he tries (and he does try), he can’t tear a single page.

Blaine looks at the pages and sighs. He stands up and carries the journal with him to the bedroom. He digs through a forest of amber prescription bottles in his bedside table and finds a black ballpoint pen. He sits on the bed and opens the journal to the first blank page, holding the pen above it. Several times he tries to write, and each time he stops. More than once, he considers giving up and tossing the journal into the trash, but a voice in his head, a distant whisper, convinces him not to. He sighs and writes the first thing he thinks of.

This sucks.

He looks at the two words and scoffs. He remembers one of the counselors telling him he should try writing a list of the things he likes and dislikes about his life now. He can’t come up with a single like, but the dislikes flow from his pen like The River Styx.

Living alone sucks.

Instant coffee sucks.

Holes in my walls suck.

Midtown Manhattan sucks.

He looks at the list and grimaces. It’s far too simplistic to describe what he’s feeling.

It sucks that nothing smells the same without you.

It sucks that I’ll never have your Nutella crepes again.

It sucks that the last thing I said to you was, “I know what I’m doing! Why are you always criticizing me? I’m taking the L.I.E. and that’s that!”

It sucks that you were right, and that I didn’t listen to you.

He looks at the list again. He runs a hand over his eyes, wiping away tears from his cheeks that he didn’t realize had started falling.

It sucks that I don’t have a single recording of you talking. I have tons of you singing, but none of you just speaking to me.

It sucks that I let Cooper give away all of your clothes, and send all of our photos to your dad.

It sucks that I didn’t tell you enough how much I really loved you. I tried to tell you every day, but I know that as we got older, as we were married longer, I failed.

The list becomes longer, the words not just written, but etched into the paper as he presses harder, nearly tearing through the pages.

It sucks that I was such a coward that I couldn’t even say goodbye to you.

It sucks that we hadn’t made love for two days before you died.

It sucks that we never had that daughter you always wanted, and I was always too busy to go down to the shelter with you and get a fucking cat.

He’s sobbing uncontrollably by the time the journal is halfway full, tears – some angry, some heavy with regret – wetting his face, his shirt, the pages. His handwriting is indecipherable, but there comes a point when he can’t think of anything else to say and his hand shakes so badly (seeing as he wasn’t left-handed to begin with, and now he has to make due) that he doesn’t have the strength to continue writing anymore.

He drops the pen and tries to read the final entry, but he can’t hold the pages back with one shaking hand, so he tosses the journal over the side of the bed and crawls beneath the comforter, his entire body trembling with agony and despair. He’s been a fighter his whole life, but he doesn’t want to fight, not when there’s nothing left to fight for anymore.

When there’s nobody in his life that makes the fighting worthwhile.

Without even realizing it, he’s made a decision for the rest of his life. He just needs to find a way to carry it out.

He falls asleep, but he doesn’t dream.

Instead he plans.

He’s getting better at making plans and lists. He’s good at dealing with the minutiae and the details.

It’s the implementing he needs to practice more, but luckily he only needs one try to get this right.

The sun rises and, for once, he rises with it. He opens his bedside table and takes out the forest of pill bottles – sleeping pills, anti-depressants, pain relievers, stool softeners. He chuckles at the idea of overdosing on pills prescribed to make him regular while he lines up all the bottles and turns his forest into an army. He reaches for a tall, thin bottle, at peace with himself for the first time since he’s left the hospital. He flips open the cap, preparing to down the whole thing, but a flash of brown catches his eye.

A shade of walnut brown that distinctly looks like the color of Kurt’s hair.

Blaine’s body reacts, going rigid at first, and then dissolving with relief. He turns his head, flush with happiness, ready to greet his husband, willing to accept that everything that’s happened in the last few months was just some horrible dream, even while his rational brain prepares him for the truth.

It’s not Kurt. Of course it’s not Kurt. These stories never have a happy ending.

It’s the journal.

Blaine turns his head and sees the abandoned journal lying on the carpet where he had tossed it. Except, not exactly where he remembers it landing, but that hardly matters. He should ignore it and continue on with his plan, but like the night before, there’s something about it that Blaine can’t force himself to ignore. He stops mid-mouthful of what he discovers with amusement is actually a bottle of Vitamin D, and slides off the mattress onto the floor. He picks up the journal, better able to handle it now that his hand isn’t shaking. He opens to the first page and sees the words he wrote, sloppy and slanted incorrectly, but relatively clear.

This sucks.

Blaine has no intention of reading every word he wrote. Some of them aren’t even legible. He catches snippets and pieces here and there among the miasma that make sense.

I miss you.

I can’t live without you.

I love you.

Blaine stops on four words nestled within the sloppy mess. They stand out because the handwriting is perfect - a graceful flourish of one letter morphing into the next, but most of all, because they are written in response to his own words.

I love you, too.

Blaine squints, dumbfounded, but decides to let it go. He was frantic last night. Much of what he knows is his own handwriting looks alien. He catches more words and blurbs and phrases, some of them out-of-place and patently ridiculous because they had been resolved and forgotten long ago … or so he thought.

I should have danced with you more that night at Scandals.

I didn’t really want anything to do with Sebastian, even though I know you thought otherwise.

But you looked so handsome sitting at the bar. So statuesque, so regal. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.

Again, another phrase, written in response to his confession, catches his attention:

I know.

Blaine’s heart starts to speed. He’s finally gone mad. He was going mad before, but the 2,000 mg of Vitamin D he swallowed must have tipped him over the edge, and now – visual hallucinations.

Were visual hallucinations a side-effect of too much Vitamin D? Didn’t one of the counselors warn him about that? Which one? The guy with the unfortunate long neck who looked like an ostrich? Or the woman with one too many face lifts to be real?

He flips through the journal to pages where words are steadily replaced by deep, dark marks that look like scars, until he finds something that’s clear enough to read:

I’m scared that you were never really proud to be with me.

… with another separate response scrawled into the margin:

I was always proud to be with you.

Blaine flips to the end. He knows there’s probably more in the middle, but he needs to know how it ends. He used to do this with novels before he read them, and it always drove Kurt completely up a wall. But Blaine couldn’t help it.

He needed to know that everything turns out all right in the end.

He gets to the last few pages and finds the last passage he wrote.

I can’t do this. I don’t want to be alone. I need to end it now.

Blaine gasps, hardly able to believe that he wrote those words. He definitely feels them, but to see them written so plainly makes it seem real.

Kurt is dead, and Blaine wants, more than anything, to be dead, too.

He sees the words in his peripheral vision before he registers their meaning, and he smiles – a true, honest smile. His face has become so unused to the concept that his cheeks hurt. He takes his time, savoring the idea of them being there before he flicks his eyes down the page. And when he reads them, he can hear Kurt’s voice scolding him in his head:

Blaine Devon Anderson-Hummel! Don’t you dare do anything so stupid! This isn’t the life I wanted for you, baby. Now get off your ass and for the sake of all that is good and sacred in this world … take a shower!

Blaine laughs for a long time while he reads and re-reads those words. He’s not completely convinced that he didn’t write them himself in his agitated state, but it’s nice to think that maybe, just maybe, Kurt was with him somehow - in a thought, a dream, or a few words in a journal, still with him.

Then Blaine notices words further down the page, words he can swear weren’t there a second ago.

But there they are now, and that makes all the difference.

Oh, darling. If you remember me, I’ll always be with you.