#bleached oak hardwood

[louiseweird]

Contemporary Kitchen - Kitchen Eat-in kitchen - large contemporary l-shaped light wood floor and beige floor eat-in kitchen idea with shaker cabinets, white cabinets, quartz countertops, metallic backsplash, paneled appliances, an island, white countertops and stone slab backsplash

[idolish7-cards]

Los Angeles Family Room

Example of a large country open concept light wood floor family room design with white walls

[vc212121]

Choosing the Right Wood for Your Kitchen Cabinets

Your Chandler custom cabinets should reflect the decorating style and personality of your home, whether that means an elegant Victorian restoration, a cozy farmhouse cottage or contemporary urban apartment. Solid wood cabinets provide durability against dent-inducing scratches as well as moisture absorption; plus they're heavy-duty enough to stand up against daily use without suffering damage over time. Maple wood features a smooth grain with subtle variations that lends itself well to both traditional and contemporary decor. Like its cousin birch, maple accepts stain well without showing signs of uneven stain coverage like some other woods do.

Hard Maple

Hard maple is an increasingly popular choice because of its durability and shock resistance, as well as its stainability and ability to be cut easily into shapes. Selecting the proper wood for your kitchen cabinets is crucial if you want it to stand the test of time. Your air fryers and blenders will put undue strain on these items; therefore, their cabinets must be durable enough to withstand them. An effective way to test the strength of wood is to press your fingernail into it; if it dent easily, this indicates soft wood that won't stand up well against wear and tear.

Cherry

Cherry cabinets add an elegant traditional charm. Made of closed-grain wood that absorbs stain well and darkens over time with sunlight exposure, cherry is an exquisite choice for kitchen cabinetry.

Cherry can be more costly than painted maple, but its beauty makes up for any cost difference. Care must be taken to preserve its luster; sponges, strong cleansers or bleach should not be used on its surfaces. Oak is an excellent material choice to achieve an earthier aesthetic in kitchen design, boasting its distinctive grain patterns and wavey variations - ideal for farmhouse-style kitchens. Plus, oak stands up well to heavy use!

Hickory

Hickory wood is one of the strongest domestic varieties available, boasting higher shock resistance than oak and maple and making it suitable for busy kitchens and family homes alike. Furthermore, its distinctive grain pattern and hue add an earthy charm that complements rustic kitchen settings perfectly. Hickory cabinets make an elegant statement in any kitchen remodel, matching any color palette perfectly and can even be stained to match any decor style. Hickory is also ideal for modern kitchen designs as it looks great with various backsplash designs.

Birch

Birch wood is an economical option that's simple and straightforward to work with, creating an authentic look through staining techniques. Plus, its durability makes it the ideal choice for kitchen cabinet construction.

If you prefer the look of oak, 1/4 sawn oak is a fantastic way to showcase its grain. Although more expensive than its counterpart birch, 1/4 sawn oak will stand up better against everyday wear and tear in your kitchen environment.

Oak

Hickory wood offers superior durability when it comes to kitchen cabinet construction, resisting moisture damage and nicks with ease - perfect for creating country classic looks in any room of the home! Plus its natural colors add character and charm.

Maple wood is an adaptable material, easily stainable and painted. Its light coloring accentuates its grain and complements any style. Birch shares similar traits but with more contemporary characteristics - its closed grain has porous pores which allow stains to absorb quickly into its pores.

Character cherry wood boasts an appealing reddish brown hue with close grain texture, giving off an earthy aesthetic in any kitchen space. When exposed to sunlight, its color deepens gradually, giving an aged rustic charm. While slightly more expensive than other hardwoods, character cherry is still durable enough for staining beautifully and holds its color well over time.

[cailunmach-blog]

How makes a sheet of tissue paper

Tissue paper is a thin, lightweight and highly absorbent paper that has become an essential item in households, offices, schools, restaurants, and hospitals. It is ideal for wiping and cleaning various surfaces, as well as for personal hygiene purposes such as blowing the nose or wiping sweat from the face.

Pulping process（with pulping machinery）：

The process of making tissue paper is a complex procedure that involves several stages. The basic raw material used in tissue paper production is wood pulp, which is sourced from hardwood trees such as birch, maple, and oak. The wood chips are first boiled in a large container to remove impurities and break down the cellulose fibers. The resulting pulp is then washed, screened, and bleached to produce high-quality pulp.

Tissue making（with facial tissue making machine）：

After that, the pulp is transported to a paper mill, where it is blended with water, chemicals, and other additives to achieve a specific texture and quality. The pulp mixture is then poured onto a moving screen, which helps to evenly distribute the fibers. The screen passes through a series of pressing rollers that squeeze out excess water and create a thin wet sheet of tissue paper.

Rolls cutting（with cutting Machine ）：

The wet sheet is then transferred onto a giant felt conveyor belt and passed through a drying cylinder, which dries the paper and gives it its final texture. The tissue paper is then cut into large rolls and shipped to factories for further processing.

Add process（with embossing machine）：

At this point, the tissue paper may undergo additional processes such as embossing, where the paper is pressed between engraved metal plates to create a pattern or texture. The paper may also be colored with dyes or printed with patterns or logos.

Packaging（with packing machines）：

The final step in tissue paper production is packaging and distribution. The rolls of tissue paper are typically wrapped in plastic or paper and sold to retailers or wholesalers, who in turn distribute them to consumers or end-users.

Eco trend（with recycled paper production machine）：

In recent years, there has been a growing trend towards environmentally friendly tissue paper production. Many manufacturers are now using recycled paper as a raw material and incorporating sustainable practices into their operations, such as reducing water and energy usage.

Conclusion：

Overall, the process of making tissue paper is a complex and innovative one that has evolved over the years to meet the growing demand for this ubiquitous household item. From the sourcing of raw materials to the final product packaging, every step in the tissue paper production process is carefully planned and executed to ensure the highest quality and efficiency.

pulping machinery

Website link:

China's Professional Paper Machinery Manufacturer and Supplier- Cailun Mach:https://www.cailunmach.com/

Wholesale OEM & ODM Toilet Paper/Tissue Paper/Napkin Paper Manufacturer/Supplier/Factory/Exporter in China-Baoding Hozhong Hygienic Products Manufacturing Co., Ltd:https://www.hozhong.com/

[urbanoak3-blog]

The Benefits of Engineered Timber Flooring in Melbourne

Engineered timber is a popular flooring option in Melbourne because it offers the look and feel of real timber, but at a much lower price point than solid hardwood. These floors are also easy to install, so they’re a great choice for homeowners looking for an affordable way to add natural beauty to their home.

The difference between engineered timber and other types of flooring is that it is made up of multiple layers of wood glued together to form a single board. The lower layers may be made from other wood-derived materials, while the top layer is typically solid hardwood.

There are different types of engineered timber available to choose from including European oak, American hickory and Australian spotted gum. Each type of timber has its own unique style and appeal, but they all have one thing in common – they are durable, beautiful and easy to maintain.

If you’re unsure which type of timber is right for your home, contact us at Profile Timber Floors today and we can help! We’ll discuss the advantages of each type of wood and advise you on the best option for your home.

Some of the benefits of engineered timber are:

Stylish and Long-Lasting

Because it’s made up of many different layers of wood, engineered timber is very tough and can handle high levels of traffic. It’s also very durable, so it won’t need to be replaced often like other flooring options.

These floors are available in a wide range of colours, textures and styles. They also come in a variety of lengths and widths to suit your needs.

They can be installed over most subfloors and are a much cheaper alternative to solid timber. They can also be layered with other types of flooring, making them more versatile and easier to clean.

Choosing the best kind of timber for your floor is an important decision, so it’s worth taking the time to learn as much as possible about each type. There are several factors that can influence the quality of your engineered timber, including the thickness of the wear layer and the core board.

The thickness of the wear layer is a good indicator of the durability of your engineered timber. It can be anywhere between 2.5mm and 6mm in depth, depending on the type of wood you choose.

You’ll want to make sure the wear layer is thick enough to withstand heavy foot traffic and the elements. You can also purchase additional protective coatings to increase the durability of your engineered timber.

It’s also important to keep your engineered timber clean. Sweep and vacuum regularly to remove dirt, dust and grime. Avoid harsh cleaning products such as bleach, which can cause damage to the wood.

Engineered timber can be a very beautiful addition to any home, but it is important to buy from a reputable manufacturer to ensure the longevity of your flooring. It’s also worth taking the time to consider your budget when deciding which engineered timber product to buy for your home.

[rdhomes22]

Kitchen Cabinet Remodeling Ideas

A kitchen cabinet makeover can be a good way to freshen up your home. But before you jump into the project, it's wise to take some time to learn about all the options.

Refacing your cabinets is a relatively inexpensive and easy way to revamp the look of your room. Adding a few new features to your cabinets can give them a whole new lease on life. Changing the knobs and pulls on your cabinets is also a budget-friendly option.

Painting your cabinets can add a new layer of life to them. It can also improve the shade of your existing wood. If you're not feeling bold, opt for a laminate veneer.

Plywood is another good alternative. Although it's not as durable as other materials, it's harder to damage. The material holds fasteners and glue joints well.

When choosing a material, consider how often you'll be moving your cabinets around. Particleboard does not hold its hardware very well, especially if it is exposed to water.

Solid wood is best for painted or stained cabinets. Using a wood stain on an oak cabinet will show off its grain, while a dark brown will highlight the wood's natural luster.

Cabinets can be made to look even better with decorative backplates. They also cover up imperfections. These types of cabinets are also very easy to clean.

Another fun kitchen remodel idea is to add an undercabinet light. These are cheap, easy to install, and work as an accent light at night.

If you are thinking about kitchen cabinet remodeling, there are several things to consider. One of them is the flooring. Hardwood floors are a great choice for kitchens. It is aesthetically pleasing and can enhance a room's value. Whether you opt for hardwood, tile or laminate, you can count on the material to last for many years. However, there are some considerations you should keep in mind.

When choosing a kitchen floor, you want to pick something that's durable and easy to maintain. You'll also want a floor that's eco-friendly. In addition, you should find a flooring material that fits your budget.

The best option is engineered wood. These floors feature a waterproof core and a sturdier top veneer that provides added protection. If you're considering hardwood floor installation in your kitchen, it's a good idea to consult a kitchen Flooring professional for advice.

One of the perks of having a hardwood floor in your kitchen is the fact that it won't rot. However, a hardwood floor is susceptible to damage from appliances. For example, a refrigerator or dishwasher can leak, leading to water leaking onto your floor.

Another potential problem is a leaking sink. Even a small spill can cause significant damage. A good rule of thumb is to wipe up any spills immediately. Otherwise, water can collect beneath the sink and cause water damage to your floor.

Another good suggestion is to buy appliances without built-ins. This will eliminate one of the biggest concerns. There are also mats you can place in your kitchen to catch spills before they can harm your floors.

Hardwood floor refinishing is a process that can make your floors look new again. It involves sanding the old finish off and then applying a new one. This is a time-consuming process that can take several days to complete.

The type of wood you use to refinish your floor also has an impact on the cost. Common types of wood include maple, walnut, and cherry. If you have a hardwood floor that is in good shape, you may not have to spend much money to get it looking great again. However, if it is starting to show wear or if you have a softer hardwood, you may need to spend more money.

Before you can start refinishing your floors, you need to clean them. You can do this yourself or you can hire a contractor to do it for you. Either way, you will need to get rid of carpet and furniture.

Once you have cleaned your floor, you will need to get your subfloor ready. This is usually done with a hot water and bleach mixture. Be sure to follow the manufacturer's directions.

During the refinishing process, you will need to remove the furniture from your room. This will allow the installers to work in the area without creating a mess. Some contractors offer dust-free refinishing.

The sanding process may produce some dust. To avoid this, you can use a vacuum or sweep the area up before the finish is applied.

RD Homes 590 E Gutierrez St Suite B, Santa Barbara, CA 93103 805-684-7583 https://rd.homes/

[fabulivonline]

Are you looking for a new dressing table? Here is everything you need to know before buying

Searching for a brand new dressing table? In such a case, you are in the right place. With every passing year, we keep getting better and more sophisticated as far as dressing tables are concerned. However, there might still be situations where you want to go shopping for one or would like to know more about dressing tables before making the purchase. That's why we have created this article, which will cover everything from the basics to the advanced features of dressing tables.

Benefits of Having a Dressing Table

If you're looking for a new dressing table, you need to think about how it will benefit your life. Here are some of the benefits of having a dressing table:

It will aid in the organization of your home. If you want to create order in your home, then a dressing table is one way to do this. You can use it for storing items like clothes or makeup that are sitting out on top of the dresser, where they can get dirty or damaged.

Storage spaces: A dressing table will give you more storage space when it comes to storing clothing and other things. You won't have to worry about taking up valuable floor space with a lot of clutter because there won't be any more than what's needed to keep everything organized properly.

Aids in the organization of your beauty products: Having a dressing table allows you to organize your beauty products so that they are easily accessible and visible.

Improves the overall appearance of your bedroom: A dressing table can add an air of elegance and sophistication to your bedroom, making it appear more polished and put together.

Provides a comfortable seating area: A dressing table typically includes a stool or chair, allowing you to sit comfortably while you groom yourself.

Enhances your self-care routine: Having a designated space for personal grooming can make your self-care routine more enjoyable and relaxing, helping you to feel more refreshed and rejuvenated.

Increases the worth of your property: A well-designed and elegant dressing table may increase the value of your home, making it more enticing to potential purchasers.

Materials Used in the Construction of Dressing Tables

There are many types of materials used in making dressing tables. They include

Wooden:

Wooden dressing tables are usually made from solid wood, which is a type of softwood that is durable and long-lasting. The most common types of wooden dressing tables include oak and maple. These types of materials are typically called hardwoods.

Metal: 

Metal dressing tables are made from steel or other metals. These materials are usually stronger than wooden ones, but they also tend to be more expensive than wooden ones because they require more work and maintenance to keep them looking good over time.

Plastic: 

Plastic dressing tables can be very affordable, especially when you purchase them in bulk at wholesale prices. While these materials may not be as durable as metal or wooden ones, they do hold up well over the long term if they're cleaned frequently with soap and water and if they're kept away from harsh chemicals such as bleach.

Considerations While Shopping for a Dressing Table

While shopping for a dressing table, there are several considerations to keep in mind:

Size: Make sure to measure the space where you plan to place the dressing table and look for options that will fit comfortably in that area.

Style: Dressing tables come in a variety of styles, from traditional to modern. Consider your room's overall appearance and select a design that will complement it.

Storage: Look for a dressing table that offers ample storage space for your makeup, jewelry, and other items. This might include drawers, shelves, or compartments.

Functionality: Consider what you will be using the dressing table for and look for features that will meet your needs. This might include a mirror, a stool, or a comfy chair, as well as adequate lighting.

Durability: Select a dressing table constructed of high-quality materials that are meant to last. Avoid weak or low-cost solutions that are likely to fall apart fast.

Price: Keep in mind your budget and compare prices across different options to find a dressing table that is affordable yet functional and stylish.

How Should You Care for Your New Dressing Table?

Setting up and maintaining your new dressing table is relatively simple; here are some steps you can take:

Unpacking: Carefully unpack your new dressing table and make sure that all the parts and hardware are included. Check for any damage or defects, and contact the manufacturer if you find any.

Assembly: Follow the manufacturer's instructions to assemble your dressing table. Use the right tools and take your time assembling various things; it could take some time.

Placement: Place your dressing table in the desired location, taking into account the size and style of the room. Make sure you have enough room to comfortably maneuver around the table.

Decoration: Once the dressing table is set up, you can decorate it with items such as a mirror, a table lamp, or a vase of flowers.

Cleaning: To keep your dressing table in good condition, wipe it down with a wet towel regularly to eliminate dust and dirt. As they might harm the table's surface, stay away from applying strong chemicals or abrasive items.

Storage: Keep your dressing table organized by storing your items in the drawers or compartments. This will not only keep your dressing table looking neat but also make it easier for you to find your things.

Protection: Place a tablecloth or a table runner to protect the surface of your dressing table from scratches or spills.

Maintenance: Regularly check for any loose components or screws and tighten them as necessary. Make contact the manufacturer for support if you discover any problems with the table.

Conclusion

If you want to purchase a dressing table, then you should go for one that is easy to assemble, has good quality, and is sturdy enough. If you are looking for a good-quality dressing table, then you should go for a brand that offers high-quality products.

You should also keep in mind the size of your room and the kind of furniture that you already own. Make sure that you choose a dressing table that will fit in the space available in your room or other rooms.

The next thing to consider is whether or not the dressing table will be able to withstand the weight of all your clothes and accessories. When purchasing a new dressing table, you should ensure that it is strong enough to avoid any damage during storage or transportation.

[gardenloungeset]

Outdoor teak furniture has become very popular these days

Outdoor teak furniture has become very popular these days because of the  natural beauty of the wood. However, apart from its aesthetic appeal,  there are various other benefits of choosing this wood. Teak contains  natural oils in order to survive in the rainforest where it grows, hence  it is naturally resistant to outdoor elements, insects, and rot.  Consequently, even though teak furniture is generally a little more  expensive compared to oak, redwood, or cedar, its natural durability and  strength makes it well worth it.   Teak furniture is made of a tropical hardwood, which has a rich, honey  hue, when it is new. But, as the teak ages, along with exposure to the China wholesale leisure chair Suppliers  elements, it begins getting a patina of silver gray. As a matter of  fact, this is exactly how outdoor teak furniture that has aged finely  can be distinguished. The thing with teak is that if this silver gray  patina is left on the furniture, without it being treated, it is not  possible to get back the original honey color of the wood.

Teak manufacturing experts recommend applying a teak protector if you  want to maintain the original golden brown color of your outdoor teak  furniture. This teak protector helps in maintaining the color of the  furniture for a single season, after which it needs to be reapplied.   However, it is not recommended to use teak oil on outdoor teak furniture  due to the high maintenance that is involved in the process. The teak  oil will have to be reapplied every three months so that the brown  finish is maintained. Experts are also of the opinion that oiling  outdoor teak furniture can cause irregular coloring or mildew.  The process of graying, when the furniture is left outdoors without the  teak oil or teak protector, takes about nine months, depending on the  exposure to elements like the sun and rain. If you like this naturally  weathered look, then the only care required for your outdoor teak  furniture is regular cleaning.  

Use a Cleaning Solution To Maintain Your Outdoor Teak Furniture   A solution made of a 25:75 mixture of a bleach with a mild detergent in  water is ideal for this cleaning purpose, which can be done with a soft  bristle brush. Once the furniture is cleaned, the entire piece should be  rinsed thoroughly to get rid of all the cleaning solution or dirt  residue. This method of cleaning is quite adequate, both for your  weathered furniture as well as the golden brown ones.  These days, you can also get products, known as teak cleaner, which can  be used to bring back the natural color of teak furniture if it has been  allowed to weather into its silver gray color. Irrespective of how long  the furniture has been left outside, they can be restored to their  original honey brown color using the teak cleaner. This restorative  process is quite easy without requiring any hard scrubbing.  

[wangdagroup]

Know About the History of Toilet Paper

Similar to facial tissue made using Wangdagroup facial tissue making machine, toilet paper is a type of tissue paper that is used in every home to keep things clean or to maintain hygiene. Nowadays, the majority of toilet paper supplied commercially is recyclable since it is made to break down in septic tanks. Some other tissues, however, are not.

 

Moist toilet paper decomposes more quickly in the environment than dry toilet paper rolls. While the hands are being treated, it protects them from harm. There are several thicknesses and roll sizes available for toilet paper. Typically, it is offered as a roll of perforated paper wrapped around a cardboard core that is maintained in a dispenser near the toilet.

 

White toilet paper is produced using water, recycled paper pulp (fibers), chemicals like sulfurates that help the paper degrade, and starches that give the paper its strength and durability while damp. Virgin-fiber toilet paper is produced from both softwood and hardwood plants. The strength of the paper roll comes from the long threads that make it up. Soft paper is made from hardwood trees with shorter strands, including maple and oak. Water and chemicals break down the trees into fiber that may be used. Companies utilize chlorine to make toilet paper a beautiful white hue. Deconstruction, Preparation, cleaning, digestions, production, pre-production pressing, cutting, and rolling for roll creation, are all processes in the manufacturing process. Because toilet paper is so widely available in households, there are many ways to use it.

What substances are found in toilet paper?

Although most toilet paper is composed of chemical pulp, it all begins with paper. Several types of tissue paper and facial tissues are made using Wangdagroup facial tissue makingmachine, including recycled paper, untreated wood pulp, and hemp plants are used to make toilet paper. The primary components used in the making of toilet paper are bleach, water, tree pulp, and chemicals used in fiber extraction. Ozone, peroxide, oxygen, and sodium hydroxide or peroxide for bleaching the paper is the chemicals utilized in the manufacturing process. The most conventional one is processed using chlorine, the most dangerous of all toxins. These contaminants accumulate in our bodies and pose a major risk to our health.

[meshyplacematy]

Outdoor teak furniture has become very popular

Outdoor teak furniture has become very popular these days because of the natural beauty of the wood. However, apart from its aesthetic appeal, there are various other benefits of choosing this wood. Teak contains natural oils in order to survive in the rainforest where it grows, hence it is naturally resistant to outdoor elements, insects, and rot. Consequently, even though teak furniture is generally a little more expensive compared to oak, redwood, or cedar, its natural durability and strength makes it well worth it. Teak furniture is made of a tropical hardwood, which has a rich, honey hue, when it is new. But, as the teak ages, along with exposure to the elements, it begins getting a patina of silver gray. As a matter of fact, this is exactly how outdoor teak furniture that has aged finely can be distinguished.

 The thing with teak is that if this silver gray patina is left on the furniture, without it being treated, it is not possible to get back the original honey color of the China Custom outdoor mesh fabric  wood.Teak manufacturing experts recommend applying a teak protector if you want to maintain the original golden brown color of your outdoor teak furniture. This teak protector helps in maintaining the color of the furniture for a single season, after which it needs to be reapplied. However, it is not recommended to use teak oil on outdoor teak furniture due to the high maintenance that is involved in the process. The teak oil will have to be reapplied every three months so that the brown finish is maintained. Experts are also of the opinion that oiling outdoor teak furniture can cause irregular coloring or mildew. The process of graying, when the furniture is left outdoors without the teak oil or teak protector, takes about nine months, depending on the exposure to elements like the sun and rain. If you like this naturally weathered look, then the only care required for your outdoor teak furniture is regular cleaning.

 Use a Cleaning Solution To Maintain Your Outdoor Teak Furniture A solution made of a 25:75 mixture of a bleach with a mild detergent in water is ideal for this cleaning purpose, which can be done with a soft bristle brush. Once the furniture is cleaned, the entire piece should be rinsed thoroughly to get rid of all the cleaning solution or dirt residue. This method of cleaning is quite adequate, both for your weathered furniture as well as the golden brown ones. These days, you can also get products, known as teak cleaner, which can be used to bring back the natural color of teak furniture if it has been allowed to weather into its silver gray color. Irrespective of how long the furniture has been left outside, they can be restored to their original honey brown color using the teak cleaner. This restorative process is quite easy without requiring any hard scrubbing.

[floormonk]

The Best Sunroom Flooring

Sunrooms create a space that transitions between your yard and home. These spaces are light-filled and breezy and offer a great outside view while protecting your flooring and furniture.

Sunroom Flooring: Top Tips

Your sunroom should feel just as cosy and inviting as your living space. You can't use the same type of flooring in a sunroom as in an indoor space. When choosing to floor for your sunroom, consider the following:

Durability

Sunrooms are more exposed to the elements than other rooms in your house. The space is likely more humid than your living area if it isn't heated or cooled. Even if it's climate-controlled, a sunroom is still exposed to intense sunlight.

The flooring must withstand heat and UV damage. It should also be able to withstand extreme temperatures. Some less durable materials may crack or buckle if the weather changes rapidly.

Color

There are many sunroom flooring options available, so choosing a color that suits your personal style is easy. It doesn't need to be matched with the rest of the home.

To enhance the natural feeling of the space, many people choose neutral colors as their sunroom flooring. Because they reflect sunlight, lighter colors are more appealing than darker ones. The darker hues can absorb light and feel hot. While this might be beneficial in winter, it can make the space unusable in summer.

Moisture Barrier

Flooring must resist moisture, especially in high-humidity areas or screened-in porches. You should select a material that repels moisture naturally.

A moisture barrier must be created below the floor. Placing organic materials against concrete slabs invites moisture problems. Install a vapour barrier in the crawlspace if your sunroom is raised.

Hardwood Flooring for Sunrooms

Hardwood flooring is a popular choice as an indoor floor material. It is often extended to the sunroom by homeowners to create a cohesive look throughout their homes. Many hardwoods work well in transitional spaces.

White oak is a great hardwood for sunrooms. This wood is resistant to moisture and scratches. A suitable sealant can be applied to extend the wood's weatherproofing properties.

Avoid dark stains and hardwoods with rich colors. They will fade in sunlight. Choose a lighter color or plank with a dappled hue to reduce the UV light's bleaching effects. Sun damage can be prevented by regularly moving furniture and protecting the flooring with a carpet.

Pros:

Natural, traditional feel and look

It doesn't get too hot in the sunlight

It adds warmth and comfort to your space

Cons:

If the climate isn't controlled, it might not be the best option.

Winter feels cold

Not recommended for floors that are prone to get rained on

Not ideal over a concrete slab

Is Engineered Hardwood Suitable for Sunrooms?

Engineered hardwood is stronger than natural hardwood and more resistant to moisture. It can withstand temperature fluctuations and won't absorb moisture easily. Engineered hardwood has multiple layers, which makes it stronger. These layers are applied in different directions to increase strength and reduce the likelihood of the wood bowing or cracking.

The top layer of the veneer is made from hardwood. It adds visual appeal and protection. The veneer gives the surface the appearance of real hardwood. It can easily scratch or peel off if the veneer isn't thick enough. The flooring's water resistance is also reduced by thin veneer. If you intend to use engineered hardwood in a sunroom, make sure you choose thick veneers of high quality.

Pros:

It is a great choice to install over a concrete slab

Large range of styles and colors

It might be less expensive than hardwood

Cons:

It is difficult to refinish flooring if it has been damaged.

Rain is not recommended

Sunrooms won't last as long as low-quality products.

Are Tile Flooring Good for a Sunroom

Tile is a popular choice for sunroom flooring in warm and humid climates. Many tile types are resistant to heat and fade. This makes it ideal for rooms that are exposed to the elements. Tile floors can be easily swept and mopped. Tile flooring is difficult to vacuum. It can withstand heavy traffic and spills.

Tile can also crack if your children run in the sunroom with their cleats on or your cat drops a potted flower on the floor. If you or your toddler slips and falls on tile, it can cause a serious injury. To make the tile more comfortable and to protect it from any damage, you can place a rug on top.

Pros:

It keeps you cool during the summer

It is easy to clean

Make unique mosaics and patterns

Cons:

Tolerant to extreme conditions

Cold climates are not ideal

Some options are more fragile than others

Sunrooms: Vinyl floors

Vinyl flooring is one the most waterproof materials. Vinyl is used to make shower curtain liners and pipes. It might be a good choice for your sunroom. It is resistant to spills, heavy traffic, and falling pots. It can feel cool underneath. It's not as refreshing and refreshing as tiles.

Vinyl is available in planks, so it's simple to install. This is a great option for sunroom flooring that's budget-friendly. It allows you to showcase your style while still keeping it affordable. It is an affordable option that can be used in every room of your home, helping to maintain a cohesive design.

Vinyl can become brittle if it is exposed to extreme sunlight. Vinyl might not be the best option for sunrooms with many windows. This flooring can be protected by using plants, furniture, and throw rugs to help prolong its life.

Pros:

Waterproof

It's easy to set up

Available in traditional and unique designs

Slip resistance

Cons:

Fading is possible

Bright sunlight can cause damage

Laminate Flooring for Sunrooms

Laminate combines a variety of materials designed for ease of use and affordability. To create planks, layers of high-density fiberboard are pressed together. The laminate is coated with melamine, which can be printed to imitate any material, such as hardwood or tile. A clear protective coating protects the laminate from moisture and prevents it from absorbing water.

Pros:

Comfortable and springy underfoot

May resist fading more than vinyl

It is easy to clean

Cons:

It is not the best waterproof option

Can't be exposed to the elements

Other materials are not as resistant to heavy foot traffic as other materials.

What about carpet in a sunroom?

A sunroom with carpeting protects the floor against foot traffic, sunlight, and moisture. Carpeting can make a room warm and inviting, but it's not always the best option.

Carpet traps dirt particles and prevents them from getting into your home. You might need to spend more time cleaning your sunroom rug. If your sunroom is humid, you should not use traditional rugs or carpeting.

You might consider an indoor-outdoor carpet that doesn't absorb moisture. You can also reinstall them easily if they get damaged.

Pros:

Comfortable underfoot

Protects your floor from dirt, fading, and other damage

Wide selection available

Extreme temperature changes are well reacted to

Cons:

Gets dirty easily

Absorbs moisture

This increases the likelihood of mildew and mold growth

How to make the best choice

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[carpetinpottstown]

The Hardwood Flooring in Pottstown Diaries

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[nexusflooringuk]

What are the best flooring options to use in the laundry room?

Solid Oak Wood Flooring

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[thisisthehardestthing]

тоска, Tanaka x Reader, 18+

Written for The Smut Pile Server Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

тоска tus-ka: Russian, noun It is a dull ache of the soul, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, lovesickness.

Russian Mafia AU: Tanaka Ryu x A Reader OC Rating: E for explicit Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, Oral sex, Public Sex, Grinding, Cheating, Denied Orgasm, Manipulation, YEARNING Word count: 11,752 Part 1 | Part 2

GLOSSARY

This is my baby. I have spent so much time writing this. I won’t give too big of an intro. Please enjoy.

Special thanks to: @joyousandverywarlike​​​ for being my ride-or-die beta,  @pleasantanathema​​​ , @present-mel​​​​ and @linestrider​​​ for hosting this collab, and everyone in the server for being amazing friends. I would not have been able to write this without any of you, and I truly mean that.

1.2

Part 1 - Valentina

The room is all rich browns and leather, an oiled hardwood floor, mahogany furniture and taxidermied bears. Against the wall, watching over everything with a bored expression is Daichi "The Bulldog" Sawamurov, Mafia Boss of the Bashkortoskaya. His brown eyes inspect his nails as another grunt echoes in the room. Beside him, you, Valentina Sawamurova, stand tall, a well-manicured hand hooked onto his bicep. In a neat line with arms clasped behind their backs stand six bratji, 'brothers', the hitmen of the Security team. They all watch as a shaved-haired man beats the shit out of a pariah.

Tanaka "Khazak" Ryunoslav wipes his tattooed knuckles, alternating X and O’s, onto a white handkerchief pulled from his neatly pressed slacks, staining the fabric red with blood. It is not his. In a simple chair at the centre of the room, a man -no, he doesn't deserve to be called a man- a boy slumps forward. His head hangs low as blood seeps from his brow, nose, mouth. A tooth lays in his drenched lap. Shivers run down Tanaka's spine as he takes in the defeated form of one of his boyevika.

"Huh? Nothing to say for yourself, predatel?" he questions, bruised knuckles tugging the fallen head of his ex-comrade up to peer into their eyes, almost swollen shut.

"I did not betray the Bratva, I swear on my babu-" 

"You only swear on God and the Pakhan, traitor." Tanaka interrupts, releasing his grip so that the boy’s head falls back down in a large swing before lifting up with a painful groan. The Bulldog sighs, checks the time on a glinting gold Rolex. Your fingers slip from the bulging bicep to cross in front of your chest. He nods to you, keep watching, and you smile back, wide, catty, red lipstick violent against white teeth.

"Tanaka, enough. Finish him and dispose of the body. I am tired of his crying. Like a baby. Ha!"

"Da, Boss."

"Make sure his friends are sent a message, also."

"Of course."

Tanaka doesn't take his eyes off the trembling informant but acknowledges the Boss's departure with a casual wave. Most people wouldn't have the audacity to be so lax to the Head, but he isn't just anyone. He's the most trusted. More than you.

"Nyet, nyet, nyet, nyet!" the rat cries, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and splashing onto the floor as he struggles against the bonds. Filthy. Fuck, how Tanaka loves it. He holds his hand out and a more competent, loyal, brat hands him a gun. His fingers curl around the weighted metal of the handle with a sigh, cocking it, and without hesitation, pulls the trigger.

.

.

.

There are only a few seconds of silence after the bang, just enough for Tanaka to relish in the feeling of complete calm after the storm. The hole between the eyes spits blood onto his crisp white shirt, before the lifeless body is untied by his boyevika in the room and dragged out to be 'made an example of'. One by one, the men clean up. A mop, bleach, breaking down the chair for firewood later. No loose ends, including The Khazak's shirt as he unbuttons it to be burnt with the chair. All the while, you watch from the sidelines, against the wall, as the wife of the Boss should.

Your toes tap rhythmically against the floor, the clackclackclack of your stilettoes a steady beat for the men to work to, but your eyes are on Tanaka's back. So muscular, so supple, still shivering from the endorphins of taking a life. The twin pistols tattooed on either shoulder blade seem armed, willing to fire again. 

You watch as he drops down fluidly with crossed legs to sit on the floor in the very spot he killed the predatel with no remorse, taking deep lungfuls of air to relish in the feeling. He can feel your eyes on him, a smile threatening to spread across his lips as he turns his head over his shoulder to peer at your scrutinising gaze -which is very careful not to let your lust show. But he knows it's there. He can taste it on his heavy tongue.

One by one, the men walk from the room, leaving only the two of you in your husband's office. The oak door shuts.

"Tell me, Gadyuka, how was I?" Tanaka enquires, eyes closed and head straight so that you can see the back of his scalp move as he speaks. The shorn hair shimmies and waves with his words, washing over you in the vast expanse of the room. Your pseudonym, 'viper', poison in your veins.

"Same as always: bloody," you hum, pushing off the wall and walking in front of him to lean against the broad desk. "You enjoy making a mess, don't you, Ryu?" you use your nickname for him, not his name, or his pseudonym, but something more intimate. He barks out a laugh, chest shaking as he examines the backs of his knuckles with gleaming eyes.

"Blyat, you know damn well that I do."

Like a gunshot has just echoed once again, the silence in the room is deafening. Your gazes lock, his ocean-grey ones with your cat-like stare. From his position on the floor, he looks up at you. Your stocking-clad legs are inviting his hands to stroke up them, and he's lucky enough to see the hint of the garter strap under your short skirt. He licks his lips. You tap the desk behind you impatiently, nails clacking against the glossy hardwood.

"My husband is going away on business in a week."

"I know, I arranged security."

"You're not going with him?" you ask, eyebrow quirking, no longer tapping the table. Tanaka shakes his head, a coy smile pulling at the corner of his lips, dried blood cracking on his sharp jaw.

"Then where will you be, Khazak?"

The grin almost splits his face in half with his reply, "in your bed, Gadyuka."

His bluntness never fails to shock you, to send heat pooling between your thighs and your heart spasming beneath your ribs. You almost want to have him right there, on top of the ledgers and documents of the many businesses Daichi is in charge of. Tanaka places his strong hands on the floor, easily dragging his body to your feet where he sits once more, staring up with eyes cloudy like the spray of a hurricane. A palm wraps behind your right leg to pull it close to his lips, kissing the lycra, the apex of your kneecap. His touch ripples through your skin so that your chin tilts up, breaking the gravity of his eye contact.

"Careful, Ryunoslav, not here."

His teeth nip at the fabric.

"I can not wait a week to taste you, Val."

"The cameras-"

"Are off because of the interrogation. Only I have the code to enable them for this room."

Calloused palms drag up the backs of your thighs, the stocking tugging slightly as it catches, until they pass the band where they wrap around your thighs, secured with a garter. You almost beg him to feel higher, to grab the fold of your ass, instead, you bite your lip between your teeth in thought.

"Then we must be quick, get under the desk." 

You don't tell him how unusual it would be if you were found to sit in your husband's chair, but with lust swimming from your thighs to drown your mind, it's not important. 

Tanaka is always rowdier after a kill, high off adrenaline, energy flowing in his veins that wants to devour everything in its path. He prefers to devour you. To savour your taste with his head between your supple thighs, to feel you come undone around his quick-witted tongue. With you balancing so precariously on the edge of the leather office chair, he can barely contain his onslaught of touch, desperate to hear you moan in the sound-proofed room. He's tucked so tightly between your knees, his broad yet lean shoulders spreading you so that he sees the dampened lace beneath your skirt.

It never takes much to arouse you. He likes to think it's only him that can pull forth your wetness from your folds like the moon coaxing the tides. He doesn't waste time, doesn't stop to watch the string of slick connecting the fabric to your cunt as his thumbs pull it to the side. He licks a long stripe up your slit and moans into the taste like a man starved. It's times like these when you wish he had hair for you to grab on to, so you settle on gripping the edge of the mahogany desk until your knuckles pale and forearms burn.

His tongue dances between your folds, lapping up each new wave of wetness that touches the shore of the muscle, only nudging the bundle of nerves at the top with a slight jostle.

"Don't tease me, Ryu, not in here," you breathe out at him between his licks, to which he chuckles, head turning to muffle the laughter against your inner thigh.

"Prosti," he apologises, the grey in his eyes glimmering with childish glee, "I can't help it sometimes." 

But he doesn't give you a chance to reply before his lips attach once more to your throbbing skin, wrapping around your swollen clit to suck greedily. Finally, he hears you moan, the sound kissing his sensitive ears like cool ocean spray. It's not loud, more constricted, but it's for him, because of him.

You feel how he sucks you into him, swallowing your heat and lust and desire with his mouth, having it all flow back into your body to stir at the whirlpool between your legs and behind your eyelids. It's torrential, dizzying, you're dragged beneath the waves, chest heaving as if you're drowning, 

but then it stops 

and the sea dies down, leaving your battered body behind.

Tanaka pulls away, silently. His palms close your legs, knees knocking together, his thumbs teasing circles against the bone. You're aching from your denied orgasm, the pained moan in your throat cutting off as a knock sounds in the room.

"Come in," you clear your throat, repeating the command.

One of Daichi's body guard's strides into the room, a look of shock on his face at your seat before he masks it quickly. His long brown hair is tied up neatly into a bun, a slight stubble on his chin tells you he hasn't slept properly in a few days. You can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks, feel the static in your hair that you smooth down. Tanaka keeps tracing shapes into your thighs, keeping the fire in your gut from extinguishing.

"Yes?" you thank Saint Mary that your voice doesn't tremble, "what is it?"

"Mrs. Sawamurova," he nods a greeting, "The Boss says he will take you out for dinner tonight and has sent me to escort you back to the main estate in preparations."

"Of course, I look forward to it."

You kick away Tanaka's hands, standing at the same time to walk around the table and follow the guard you know as Alexei Asahi from your husband's office. It means leaving The Khazak under the desk, along with a piece of your dignity.

***

Dinner is the kind with clinking glasses and soft chatter. The lighting is dim, intimate, with a soft glow that bounces off the crystal and silverware. As usual, the two of you are seated in the middle of the restaurant, the surrounding tables strategically blocking the view of you and Daichi from all the windows and doors, as well as the bodies seated in them. You can never be too careful, even if your husband owns the restaurant -or the entire town. To your left, behind Daichi and closest to the door, sits Tanaka.

"You look beautiful tonight, darling," Daichi says, taking a bite of his steak.

You do. The black silk dress lays flat against your chest, the deep v tailored perfectly. The tie behind your neck falls softly to your waist. Against your skin is a gold pendant, a coin pressed with the Sawamarov crest. Sleeveless and backless, the dress shows your beautiful viper tattoo curling down your right arm as though protecting you. It’s jaw opens near your wrist to bite anyone you may touch. You hold your glass of wine, swirling it before you sip.

"Thank you, my love. You bought me this dress for our first date."

"And that engagement ring on our second."

You swallow down your guilt, thighs clenching together, the silk fabric teasingly softly against your still-ignited skin. You give him a pointed stare, leaning forward ever so slightly to whisper over the table.

"I wouldn't call that a second date. We never left each other after the first."

Daichi laughs heartily, waves for another bottle of wine, eyes shining with the memory of the very active week in a skiing lodge. He hopes he can recreate some of it tonight, knowing he's been neglecting you, ignoring your needs. He glances down at the subtle curve of the fabric around your slight breast, the hint of the peony tattoo peeking under the edge of your neckline, low on your sternum; it’s the only delicate thing about you.

Daichi watches as you excuse yourself to use the restroom, the way your hips sway beneath the silk as though you have a secret. He frowns when the door closes, checking his watch for the time and pouring a shot of vodka to swallow down. You do have a secret. The waiter takes away the plates, bringing a simple dessert to share with the wine, and when you sit back down with a happy sigh, The Bulldog tries to sniff it out. He taps the table with two fingers and the nearest bodyguards turn slightly away to give you both privacy.

“I was told you were seated at my desk.”

A bite of mousse passes between your red lips with a small smile, eyes penetrating his gaze and not faltering. 

“Can a wife not sit in her husband’s chair?”

“Nyet, you know this. Why?”

“Calm down, my love.”

He fixes his cuff links, leaning back in his chair so that the gold chain around his neck glints in the light. His strong brow shadows his darkening eyes, lips pressing into a thin line, and, true to his nickname, it seems as though his muscles inflate. It makes you melt to see him hard, pectorals and biceps wanting to burst through the fabric of his Armani shirt. The spoon clinks against the plate and you reach across the table, viper stretching to grab his hand and bring it to your lips with a soft kiss, red lipstick on his jewelled knuckles. As much as you want to flicker your gaze to the man behind your husband, you hold firm.

“It’s embarrassing, but I’ll tell you. Come closer so I can whisper,” you usher him in, and Daichi grunts but follows your suggestion. He has no reason to doubt you, yet his gut is telling him you were doing more than just resting your heeled feet. He watches your pink tongue lick your bottom lip, teeth cracking between them with a coy smile.

“As you know, it has been quite some time since we’ve, how should I put this, made love.”

“I know.”

“Had I known we were going to dine tonight, fuck tonight, I would not have.”

“Your point, Gadyuka.”

Your whisper turns into a low hum, right hand squeezing his and your left hand toying with the coin pendant around your neck. Butterflies swirl in your gut, but you kill them swiftly with venom. He can sniff out any insecurity.

“I was masturbating.”

“What?”

“I was masturbating. Touching myself. In your chair, by your desk, thinking of you. I was almost finished but then Alexei had knocked on the door and stopped it.”

The look on Daichi’s face can only be described as speechless, which he is not often. His mouth opens, eyes stormy as he pictures your flushed face. He remembers that glassy look your eyes adopt when you're close, far away in bliss. Your delicate palm touches his clean-shaven cheek, drawing his attention back to the restaurant, to you.

“How about we go home and finish what I started, huh?”

Daichi didn’t need to be told twice. Standing fluidly, everyone around him follows his movement. Your fur coat is draped over your shoulders, thick and warm, a crisp white. His hand is on the small of your back, leading you out of the restaurant with the haste of a man collecting a prize. The air is cold, snow shovelled aside as you climb into the car to feel heated lips pressing to your neck instantly. You laugh, locking your wrists behind his neck to capture his mouth with your own. Men are so easily convinced.

Part 2 - Tanaka

The frame rattles as Tanaka slams the door closed behind him. He tracks melting sludge onto the thin, rust-coloured welcome mat, the tip of his nose red with more than the kiss from the windchill. The heater of the cabin is turned on, the warmth a welcome refuge from the thick snow outside as he shrugs off his coat.

Tanaka doesn’t hide his thoughts and feelings. He’s the kind of guy that wears them on his sleeve, bares it all out there for everyone to see. When he’s angry, you can see the tips of his ears burn. When he’s thrilled, that shark-tooth grin spreads so wide across his face, his eyes close. And when he’s murderous, nothing and no one can stand in his way.

“Cyka blyat!” he shouts, punching the wall of his residence, missing the mirror by mere centimetres, his already bruised knuckles stinging with his rage. A slew of curse words tumbles from his lips, both from searing pain and soaring anger. The eyes on the back of his hands stare at him, judging.

Seeing Valentina out at dinner, looking so delectable, so sinful, Ryunoslav felt ravenous for just a taste of her skin. It was bad enough that he never got to feel her convulse on his tongue earlier, he had to watch her flirt with her husband. He knows the deal, that nothing can ever really happen between the two of them outside of sex, and if they were both to get caught, it would be his end. He understands, yet he can’t help his rising natural anger. The buzzing in his pants pocket pulls him from his internal struggle, and he relaxes his hands, feeling the half-moon indents in his palms hiss in relief.

“Da?" a pause, "I’m on my way.”

Daichi wants to see him; did they finish their ‘love-making’ so quickly? Tanaka catches his reflection in the mirror, massaging the centre of his furrowed brows to try dissipate some of his frustrations before grabbing his thick coat and making the five-minute trek to the main estate. He’s frozen to the bone by the time he arrives at the large mahogany doors, but his anger keeps his blood warm. He needs to be careful, to calm down.

***

The Boss is waiting for Tanaka in his oversized office, the door open ajar, letting a soft yellow light stream into the hallway. This one is different from where the interrogation took place that afternoon, yet it is decorated almost identically. A shiver runs down Ryunoslav’s neck as he remembers Valentina’s sumptuous taste, the supple skin of her thighs brushing against his jaw and the way her lips sighed his name. Fuck, he takes a deep breath, pacifying his licentious thoughts before rapping on the door with his knuckles. Daichi’s deep voice tells him to enter.

He sits there, behind the desk, the white shirt he wore to dinner wrinkled, half unbuttoned to show a burly chest. A gold chain with a coin and two wedding bands glints from the curled chest hair.

“Vodka?” Daichi asks, doe brown eyes glancing up, already pouring both him and his head of security a shot of the clear liquid.

“Spasiba,” Tanaka’s voice is a grumble, deep in his chest as he tries to warm his body but cool his temper.

The Bulldog leans back. They toast, downing the drink with a casual swallow. As per usual, Tanaka automatically refills the next round for the both of them, but it remains untouched. Instead, Daichi opens a ledger, fingers curling up the pages as he flips through the numbers and accounts.

“Sergei has told me we were underpaid last month.”

“Mm, I will talk with Yuuri to find out who.”

“Make sure you show them the repercussions.”

“Always.”

Tanaka cracks his knuckles, excited to teach yet another lesson in punctuality. Daichi eyes his most trusted brother, the way that cocky smirk appears at the thought of fists colliding with skin, but there’s something else underneath.

“Khazak, you’re angry,” Daichi concludes, reaching across the table for the vodka, motioning Ryunoslav to sit down across from him. The shorn-haired man shrugs, slinking into the leather seat, removing his black beenie to run his hand through the trimmed hair. He can’t lie to the Boss, but he can’t tell him the truth either.

“I am… frustrated.”

The pair cheers, the glasses clinking before thudding onto the leather ingrained into the top of the desk.

“Why?”

"Ha! Please, I do not know, Boss.”

Daichi lets out a hum, shifting forward in his chair so that the wheels creak beneath his weight.

“I think I know.”

Tanaka stays silent, keeping his stare level and curious with the Bulldog’s.

“You need a woman!” Daichi barks out, smacking the desk with a flat palm, laughing deeply so that it echoes in the quiet room and probably through the manor. Tanaka can’t help but join in with the infectious laughter, the vodka soothing his nerves, relaxing the tension in his jaw.

“You’re right. It’s been too long,” since I fucked your wife.

They pour another shot, the buzz of the first two beginning to hum pleasantly through their bodies.

“Next week I go to Georgia to see the business there. While I’m gone, bring a whore to your bed. You have my permission.”

“Thank you, Boss.” Tanaka says, his cock twitching at the thought of Valentina in his residence. She’s never been there longer than a few minutes, and never without Daichi in the ten years Ryunoslav has been working for the Sawamurov family, and the two he’s been fucking her. He can't help but fantasize about it.

They catch up in light-hearted talk, about the state of Russia and the business, that they don’t see her peer around the corner of the heavy door, black silk nightgown wrapped loosely around her frame to show the lace of lingerie beneath.

“Daichi, are you coming to bed?” Tanaka hears her say, Valentina’s voice caressing his sensitive ears, but it’s not for him. He turns around, both men shocked into sobriety when they see her leaning against the now open door. 

“Ah yes! Sorry, my love! We lost track of time.” Daichi says, pushing up from his seat. Tanaka swallows, watches as her gaze floats from her husband’s to his own. He can see the pale blue of new bruises around the column of her throat, where Daichi probably sucked into the skin. Tanaka can’t help his smirk. She always did like it rough, and it means he can leave his own over those later.

“Khazak,” she greets with a curt nod, fixing the dropped shoulder of the gown to make herself more modest. “Don’t keep him too late, okay?”

“Mrs. Sawamurova, as you wish.”

Daichi chuckles from behind the desk, walking around to clap Tanaka on the shoulder.

“I may be the Pakhan, but Gadyuka here always has the last say, huh? Good night, Ryunoslav. Don’t forget to talk to Yuuri. And don’t forget what I said you can do.”

“Da, spakoyne noche, Boss.”

With a two-finger wave, Daichi walks out of the room, his hand travelling to the small of Valentina’s back as he leads her back to the bedroom. Tanaka takes one final shot, pulling his hat low over his ears as he prepares to walk back to his house.

***

“He said what?” Nishinoya Yuuri exclaims, cackling inside Tanaka’s small living room. His shorter counterpart smacks the armrest of the chair, the sound against the leather cracking like a whip.

“I can entertain a whore this weekend.”

Yuuri can’t believe his ears, face red with laughter, the file of the business owner coming up with short change forgotten on his lap. His bleached bangs hang in his eyes and he pushes it up, wiping tears with a deep breath. 

Together, Ryunoslav and Yuuri make up the Elite Group within the Bashkortoskaya, Daichi’s most trusted men. Each one runs their own Brigade: Nishinoya the Support Group and, by default, oversees the entire Workforce, while Tanaka is head of Security and keeps everything running smoothly.

The Khazak’s sharp jaw pulses, cheeks red to resemble a heart as it beats in humility. He clenches and unclenches his jaw.

“In the years I’ve known you, you’ve never had a prostitute.”

"I've never needed one," Tanaka shrugs, stealing the manila folder to flip through the details. Simple enough. His men were already bringing the tinted black SUVs around for them to make a ‘house call’ to Ukai Keishin. He shrugs on his thick coat, the kind that’s easy to clean, and black leather gloves onto his hands, slipping knuckle dusters into his pocket. Just in case. He doubts he’ll need them. He waves Yuuri a goodbye as he hears the tyres crunch over the sleet of snow.

“Remember to pick up condoms while you’re out!” He hears his brother call out to him as the door closes and ice invades each inhale.

Tanaka grumbles under his breath, fiddling with the direction of the hot air coming through the car’s vents. Just what he needs is word getting around that he would be fucking someone while the Boss is gone. These kinds of things never stay quiet, and he knows it will reach Valentina’s ears within the day. He shivers to think how she will lash out at him if he actually invites one of Daichi’s prostitutes back to his bed. The girls at those establishments can’t even hold a candle to her beauty or skill.

Prostitution is a lucrative business and one of the main sources of income, other than drug smuggling and the many (legal and illegal) casinos and tech companies owned by the Sawamurov’s. Ukai's particular business—and why The Boss is so invested in it—is a front for a prostitution call-centre. According to performance, they should've made a profit for the month past. Usually, Tanaka wouldn't make an appearance personally, delegating the task to his experienced team members, who might even give the order to the security brigades that they run. However, he is glad to get out of the estate grounds and think of something other than Val’s voluptuous lips and the swell of her breasts from beneath that black lingerie last night.

***

The Sawamurov's reach controlled all of Bashkortostan, a republic within Russia nestled between the picturesque Ural mountain range and the Volga river. Tanaka watches as the trees surrounding the estate give way to highway and grassland before the small town of Belebey comes into view. It's all Daichi's, and in turn, all Val’s.

The town is quiet, the late morning sky a dark grey with clouds that make the winter more formidable. Tanaka wouldn't have it any other way. They pull up to the slightly rundown storefront, graffiti against the wall with crude swear words act as a greeting. He snorts, watching as the glossy black SUV's reflect in the windows as though looking into a parallel world. Inside he can see movement, a tall man in a white apron walking around the counter to open the door. Confident. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Ukai shouts out, arms crossed over his chest to protect his fingers from the stinging cold. Tanaka doesn't answer, tucking his chin into his scarf as he observes the man. He's older, bleached blonde with honey eyes that seem more solid, hardened. On his forearms are scars, his flannel shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal a tattoo of a web with a downwards facing spider: recovered drug addict.

"We've come to collect," one of the lackeys says in his boss's place.

Ukai steps aside to let them in, sighing deeply, flicking a cigarette to the moist ground, and leading them to a back room where there's a round table with a few wooden chairs. Papers litter the room, boxes of unpacked stock are piled in a corner. The place is a shithole.

"Can I get you anything? Vodka, cigarette?"

"Sit, Ukai." Tanaka speaks, gesturing to the nearest chair, unbuttoning his coat to drop it onto the table, his beanie and scarf piling on top of it. "We're here for business."

Ukai collapses down, slouching casually as he stares at the leader of the men. Ryunoslav drags a chair in front of the debtor, spinning it on a single leg so that he leans against the backrest as he sits with his legs spread out on either side. A sliver of gold chain catches the fluorescent lighting under his simple suit shirt, matching the multiple piercings in Ukai's right ear.

"You did not pay the full amount of February."

"Correct."

"Why?"

"I couldn't."

The man's blunt lie is shocking to Tanaka, refreshing from the usual quivering imbeciles, and he feels the need to suppress a smile that threatens to reveal itself. Instead, he keeps his tone cynical.

"Was the month not profitable, Ukai? Men get lonely in February, their beds cold."

Ukai shrugs, smoothing out the wrinkles in his apron, eyeing the handsome shaved hair man with intrigue. Tanaka feels a ripple down his spine. "For the whores? Yes, it was profitable. But my business was not."

"So you used the money for the Bashkortoskaya to save your ass from bills?" Tanaka begins to laugh, his wide mouth swallowing the sky as his chin tilts up. He stares straight at the man once more, "you should've paid us first."

"Ah, but then I wouldn't have had the pleasure of your visit. I am touched an Avtoritet will come to see me personally. You are better looking than I thought you would be, younger."

Tanaka raises an eyebrow at the flirtatious comment, a very open individual. He sees some of his subordinates shift uncomfortably in his peripheral, unsure of how to proceed. He drums his fingers on the back of the chair, the beat steady like his heart.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, I'm not one of your kind."

"And what kind is that?"

"Gay."

Ukai chuckles, pulling a packet of cigarettes from his apron pocket, offering one to Ryunoslav who instead takes the full box, holding it up for someone to confiscate. He stands, walking to inspect the stacked boxes around the room. Ukai swallows; he knows not to push his luck too far.

"Are you going to kill me if I don't pay?"

"Hm, nyet, not yet. Are these fresh?" Tanaka holds up a dozen eggs, the green carton sickly. He doesn't wait for the reply, tearing it open and tossing one to the ground with a resounding crunch, the yolk bleeding into the tile grates.

"Listen, Ukai," splat, "you will pay the balance," splat, "by the end of this week," Tanaka walks closer with each drop of the egg until he's next to the grocery store owner. Ukai sits upright, a cool gaze on Tanaka's tattooed hands as they stroke the shell of the brown eggs. The crosses and circles are targets, his hands the weapons.  

"Or your head, will look like these eggs." Tanaka drops the entire carton on the ground, the bright yellow spilling out and pooling beneath Tanaka's black boots. "Vy ponimayete?"

"Da, understood."

"Good. I hope I will not need to see you again."

On his way out of the store, Tanaka picks up a box of condoms from the aisle.

Part 3 - Valentina

Friday cannot come fast enough... so that you can throttle your lover. 

The double-pane french doors to the balcony shine with frost, the sky beyond dark and unforgiving, much like the irritation boiling inside you. It’s the last night; Daichi leaves on the first flight to Georgia tomorrow morning to meet with the Vashadze, your father and owners of half the Casinos under your combined empire. Your marriage three years ago was the biggest news since the raid on the Uhaluba club in Prague, 1995. Together, your families control prositution, drug smuggling, money laundering, the list goes on. Behind the scenes, of course. 

Up front, Daichi is a wealthy investor of tech: Facebook, Tesla, oil companies in the Middle East and Serbia, whereas your father is a top Politician and Minister in Georgia, maintaining his position with dirt he’s collected on those with darker tastes and kinks in the underworld.

“Supply snakes with a meal, and you’ll have them all by the fangs,” your father regularly told you over dinners since you were thirteen, when he began to show you the truth behind his wealth, once your mother passed away.

It’s how you got your nickname. It was the first thing you said to Daichi, before he took you out, before he became The Boss . You were eighteen when you laid eyes upon that hulking mass of muscle. He asked how you could be so beautiful, and you parroted your father’s words. He knew from that moment on that you were dangerous, poisonous, and he had to have you.

When you were twenty-one, you met Daichi again, this time in an underground gambling soiree. You were the host, of course. The felt green betting mats stood out in stark contrast against the white dress code and the dark wooden tables. You wore black. Translucent red dice swirled between your fingers expertly before you rolled snake eyes.

“Bad luck,” Daichi commented over your shoulder, spiced wood and tobacco tickling your nose. You sipped a vodka martini with a twist. There was always a twist with you.

“It’ll be fine, I own the club,” you shrugged, cashing out with the chips you owed and strolling back to the bar where another drink awaited you. Even now, you could remember Tanaka Ryunoslav hovering behind Daichi, drinking in the sight of your curves, the red of your lipstick and the wit of your tongue. A lot less subtle then than now. 

If you closed your eyes, you could very easily conjure the tapping of his heels, the eager look in the Young Khazak’s eyes at being surrounded by some of the most powerful men in Eastern Europe. You could even taste the vodka on his tongue that you sucked down your throat in a supply room all those years ago.

Back then, that bout of casual sex meant nothing. You married Daichi four years later, when your paths crossed once more at twenty-five, the turf wars between neighbouring families becoming too much to bear for Eastern Europe. You were lucky Daichi was--is so exceedingly handsome. Interesting. Smart. Powerful. However, so is your father. And you never wanted to marry your father.

“Darling?” Daichi’s voice calls you out of your pacing when he walks into the room, the silk of your dressing gown swooping around your feet as you stand still. “Everything alright?”

“Da, sorry, you know I get nervous when you fly,” you lie quickly, easily, turning your back on him to close the curtain and shut out the irritation of outside, the faint golden glow of Tanaka’s cabin sealed away. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Mm, yes, I know. Relax a little. When I am back we have that gala. Is your dress finished?”

You give him a pointed glance, turning down the bedsheets and unravelling the delicate bow of the robe to climb under the covers with bare skin.

“Weeks ago, Daichi. You were at the final fitting.”

He nods as if he remembers, but you know his mind is elsewhere, much like your body would rather be.

“Are you coming to bed early tonight?”

For several days, weeks, months, Daichi has been sneaking into your bed too late in the evening. Or early in the morning. The business is doing fine, there’s no cause for him to spend some nights not even at home. Some part of you--a small, small part--misses his thick muscles wrapped around your body.

“Later, there is something I have to do first.”

You merely hum, settling yourself down and dimming the lamp beside the bed until the room bathes in a soft glow. With your eyes closed, you don’t see him leave, the door clicking shut. Instead, you picture red, your empty bed, and across the snow, a cocky smile letting a too thin, sallow-skinned blank face past their threshold. He will have to have a hooker, Daichi will ask him all about it. Motherfucker. You turn the light off.

***

The Bulldog kisses your forehead when he wakes, sleeping behind you for a total of an hour. You’d woken up slightly when he clambered into the bed, smelling freshly of his cologne from a recent shower, at three in the morning.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispers into your ear, not staying to hear your ‘be safe’ in response, still mumbling from a fitful night’s sleep. 

However, you don’t drift off again, eyes suddenly open and staring into your nightstand where a cool glass of water rests. It’s still, silent and calm. You turn over to the right, seeing the empty space where Daichi’s body barely left a mark, his lamp still buzzing. It isn’t until you hear cars pull away in the driveway that you sit up, wiping the remnants of sleep delicately from your eyes to sigh. It’s going to be a long day.

Dumdumdum, three quick taps echo in the quiet, the door creaking open as a curious head peeks around the side. Ryunoslav smiles when he sees you perched in bed. His eyes drift from your face, down your neck and to your breasts, the skin pricking up under his sharp gaze. You could strike a match and it would erupt into flames.

“What are you doing here, Ryu?” you ask. It comes out more accusatory than you would’ve liked but he just grins, teeth ready to bite any jab you throw.

“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?”

For a raucous man, Tanaka moves stealthily across your floor, kicking off his boots before planting two large hands onto the edge of the mattress. You can feel it dip with his weight as he crawls, veiny forearms caging in your legs, trapping you. He sways side to side, spine rolling like a panther about to pounce. You kick his left hand out so he falls, crashing and rolling to the spot where Daichi laid with a laugh, peering up at you with fervent energy.

“His bed isn’t even cold yet.”

“Ha! He barely slept here, Val.”

“And you will?” Skepticism laces your words, the irritation of last night seeping into your thoughts once more. His smile finally drops.

“Nyet, of course not. You know that.” Tanaka twists around so that he’s cross-legged, facing you fully, eyes searching your own. “I’ll just fuck you.” You scoff.

His hands plant themselves on your thighs, the eyes tattooed on the back staring at the ceiling, observing the heavens. They travel gradually up to where the sheet lays scrunched around your waist, fingers pinching the edges.

“Give you more pleasure than he does before going back to my lonely bed. Without you.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’ll be lonely for much longer, Ryunoslav.”

Tanaka chuckles under his breath, shaking his head as he pulls the duvet down to unveil you before him. His chest rises and falls so fluidly with his deep breaths, a movement so calm, yet he freezes when his eyes rake over your luscious figure.

“How the Boss does not have you under lock and key astounds me.”

Your hand slaps across his face, a fire burning from your palm down to your groin.

“I will not be someone’s pet.”

Lust overcomes Tanaka’s pupils, his lips curling up in ecstasy at your stern tone, his cheek pounding along with his heart.

“No, you will not.”

Then, his mouth captures yours. 

Hot, hungry, the spring in his spine expands so that his chest presses against yours, jaws stretching up. Desperate hands clutch at your neck, the fold of your hips, anything to pull himself tight to your body, anchored to your skin and bed. It’s sinful, even whores refuse to do something so intimate. You feel that heavy tongue drag against your bottom lip, asking your permission to enter. You welcome it, savoring the taste of Ryu’s desire, his burning passion. His hands drift to tug at the firm muscle of your ass, hauling you to kneel over his lap, supporting and kneading it to a rhythm that you’ve come to know so well.

Your fingers clumsily unbutton his pants, slipping under the fabric to feel your undoing. Tanaka moans into your mouth, growing harder, fiercer in his touch with each stroke up the length of his cock. He wastes no time, patience not his strongest virtue. You detach from the kiss with a heavy sigh, forehead pressing to his as you melt over his fingers. Both your hands press into his shoulders, stabilising your vibrating body from how he rolls your clit between his fingers. He’s too clothed, not enough of his skin available for you to stroke and scratch and bite. You claw at the back of his long-sleeved shirt, he rips it off.

With the shirt discarded over his boots, Ryu’s warm hands wrap around your waist, tilting you back until you lay open for him. His pants come off next, flung haphazardly to the floor so that he kneels before you shamelessly, eyes raking down your naked body. By now, he’s committed every curve, every artwork on your skin to memory that he can draw you with his eyes closed. The peony tattoo at the base of your sternum a siren’s call for his mouth to taste. The heat of his body is a furnace, flames licking your skin as he kisses down your chest, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

“Why don’t I finish what I started, huh?” he parrots the words you whispered to Daichi a week ago. Your gut clenches, your cunt tightening to know he heard that. You almost want to beg him to devour you, but that’s not who you are. Your hand strokes over his shorn hair, his eyes closing as your nails rake against his scalp. Savagely, you squeeze his jaw, fingers pursing his lips, the viper tattooed near your wrist ready to strike.

“So snarky. I can think of more important uses for your tongue, Ryunoslav.”

He grins, the round of his cheeks tensing in your clutches before he turns his head to nibble at your thumb, sucking it down.

“As you wish, Valentina.”

Tanaka kisses down your stomach to the apex of your mound, squirming until he nestles between your outstretched legs and his arms wrap themselves under your thighs, an iron grip on your hips. You brace yourself to feel that vacuum, that eternally deep suction that clings onto your soul and merges it with his, but all you can feel are soft exhales. He stares up at you, an indiscernible look on his face.

“Ryu?” you come onto your elbows. The very sight of the man between your legs is enough to make you shiver. He plants a kiss to your thigh.

“You know I will do anything for us, for you.”

“I know.”

“Even fuck a whore once if it means I get to stay with you for just another more day.”

You grit your teeth, knowing it’s true, and although he shouldn’t be saying such intimate things—that you can never truly be together—it’s what you needed to hear. You remain silent, watching him as he lowers his mouth to your seeping skin, licking languidly to taste you on his entire tongue. It’s flat, wet, heavy, pressing into you so solidly you fall back down, eyes closing as you capsize. Tanaka demands whimpers, his name, with his touch. He’s insatiable, greedy to feel you come undone completely, this time with no interruption.

Two fingers test your waters, slipping between the waves of your folds while his tongue drags you under. You know his ocean-grey eyes never stop watching as you writhe under his ministrations. You can barely move, clenching around his skilled hand as though keeping him anchored in place. You want him, need him. The first pulse of your walls spurs him on, stirring the storm in your groin, until you can barely contain your moans for him. Your orgasm batters against the shores of your body, powerful waves washing over you and dissolving all your stress and irritation, leaving you gasping and heavy, weighted down and sluggish.

“Fuck, baby,” Tanaka swears against your skin, still pumping his fingers against sopping skin to feel how you contract around him. The stimulation almost has you in tears and you grab his wrist to pull him away, closer to your lips. You swallow down your tang, the kiss passionate yet lazy as he ruts against your tingling clit, hands wrapped around your head to almost cradle you against him.

“You were very loud,” he chides, but you know he loves it, the danger. “You are lucky no one is in the house tonight.”

“Do you want me to keep quiet, Ryu?” you moan into his mouth, biting his lip against a particularly rough thrust.

“Never,” he grins, sitting back so that he can observe your glassy look, you pout at the sudden chill. There’s a moment of protest, his body too far away, before your eyes roll back and you’re stretched out, overflowing with the feeling of him, your vision black.

Part 4 - Tanaka

Ryunoslav wishes he could lay behind Valentina eternally, watch as she wakes and stretches, but he knows he can’t. He unfurls his lithe chest from her back, and stands to dress before sneaking back to his cabin. The cold air nips at his cheeks, but it would take a snowstorm and him being naked to freeze over the warmth radiating from inside his chest. Under the cover of dark, even at 6:00 am, Tanaka makes it back without being seen, like he always does.

He winces as he shrugs off his coat and scarf, the scrapes on his back from her nails stinging beautifully. His thoughts drift: what she must think when she wakes up in the mornings to find the bed empty, either without him or Daichi, and whether he’ll ever see her under his own covers, laughing while sipping a coffee on a summer morning. Ryu shakes his head to absolve those thoughts, it’s dangerous to linger on dreams for too long.

The box of condoms on his dining table stand out like a sore thumb, and he shoves it into the closest drawer, the eyes on his hands giving him a mocking stare. ‘What would your mother say?’ it blinks at him, pulling his mouth into a scowl. Turning the kettle on, he pulls up Sergei’s number on his phone.

“Khazak, it’s early.” Sergei’s morning gruff is thick, coughing lightly as he clears his throat.

“Dobre utra, Sergei, sorry, I know.”

“What is it you need?” Tanaka can almost picture the cool gaze, the pinched brows beneath silver hair that the bookkeeper has on whenever speaking to the head of security.

“Ukai, has all been fixed?”

“Uka– Ryunoslav, could this not wait until a more reasonable hour? Yes, it’s resolved. The guy wired the remaining amount last night. God knows where he got it from but I don’t care.”

Tanaka opens his mouth to speak, but Sergei cuts him off.

“I swear, call me this early again and I’ll hang you from your ears.”

The Khazak laughs, wishing the old ‘friend’ a good day as he hangs up. That clears up most of Tanaka’s schedule, and he falls onto his bed, groaning when the whistle of the kettle rings loud in the room. It’s too similar to the alarm bells in his mind when he thinks about the call he has to make later.

***

Ryunoslav shivers, peeling off the used condom to tie a knot in it. It wasn’t too bad. With the prostitute's ass in the air, he could almost picture it was her. He watches as she pulls up stockings and a dress, her only layers beneath a thick coat and hat. The prostitute looks over her shoulder with her hand resting on the door, appreciating the view. Tanaka sits on the edge of the bed, naked and bored.

“This was fun. Call me anytime,” she purrs with a wink, pleasantly fucked, before leaving. He grumbles, falling backwards so that air whooshes past his ears as the mattress creaks under his body.

She’s going to kill me, he thinks, picturing Val’s face with the disapproving glare that always seems to rile him up. A part of him wonders if he went through with it purely to piss her off, make her mad with jealousy, just like he can be.

***

Tanaka must’ve dozed off because he wakes to the sound of his front door being pounded, the clock next to it showing quarter to midnight. He swears, scrambling to toss the condom he left on his thigh into the open basket bin and pull on the nearest pair of pants. He has just finished tying the drawstring when the door swings open and Valentina strides in, arms crossed in front of her chest, white flakes of snow on the Hermès scarf wrapped around her hair.

He’s frozen, a deer in headlights, silent at seeing her standing in his doorway, both beautiful and deadly. He watches as analytical eyes scan the single-roomed cabin, finally taking it all in. For some reason, he feels shy, a blush creeping up his neck. He has always wanted her in here, but now that she is, he feels like it’s not good enough.

Tanaka follows her gaze: sweeping from the small kitchen, to the two person table and chair, in the corner are the leather armrests and a coffee table. Directly by Val’s right is a mirror and coat hook, the wooden-heated walls sparsely decorated with a map of old USSR and new Russia, along with a single lily in a simple frame. He sees her stare past him, to the arch that separates his bedroom, analysing the unmade bed. Tendrils of cold sweep by him from the still-open door. She does not move a muscle.

Valentina opens her mouth as if to say something, then closes it, walking to the kitchen counter where a half-finished bottle of vodka sits. Tanaka’s door shuts with a click, and when he turns, she has already pulled out a shot glass. 

Has she been drinking? he thinks, rubbing the goosebumps up his arms, the callouses scraping some still-healing scabs. He gets his answer when she barely winces her swallow.

“Do you want to sit down?” Tanaka asks, approaching carefully, gesturing to the sofa; she’s a cornered viper. Val turnz, leaning against the marble top, coat still wrapped tightly around her body. Her lips purse, and he stills, knowing she’s either trying to put together a sentence or hold back uttering one. But Ryunoslav doesn’t know her to hold back often.

“Did you do it?” 

He didn’t expect the question to flow from her lips so calmly, hushed and smooth like an expert interrogator; the way he would speak. There’s no point in lying.

“Da,” Tanaka steps closer, reaching past Val’s head for a second shot glass. She makes no effort to hand him the bottle. “It’s just sex.” 

He almost recoils from the daggers in her stare, pupils shrinking into slits that can cut through him. I should not have said that, but if he lied, he wonders if she’d be just as furious. Valentina looks down and spots the discarded condom, sighing while twisting open the cap of the bottle to drink straight from the lip, past the point of using a glass.

“I thought of you.”

A faint flicker of relief, but then she laughs, curt and cold.

“I’m so flattered, Ryunoslav, thank you.”

He feels his heart tighten, forehead pounding, with more than guilt.

“Blyat, what the fuck else was I supposed to do?” he snorts, storm brewing in his eyes, fists clenching. His face is so close to hers, he can smell the alcohol on her breath. He can see her searching for answers within his own.

“I don’t know, but,” her eyes close, the small wrinkle between her brow dissolving with an inhale. The exhale has them open, blank, her lips in a neutral line. Somehow, this scares Ryunoslav even more. He feels his heart hammer beneath his ribs, either trying to escape or to jump into her palms. The bottle is no longer in them, but the belt of her coat, pulling it loose so that it unfurls from her chest. He see’s skin, a clavicle, ripe mounds of breasts. The flower tattoo peaks out from the shadow until it disappears and the top of underwear wraps around her waist. She’s not wearing the Family pendant. When the coat drops off her shoulders--the wool scrunching into a thick pile at her feet--he notices she is still wearing boots, but legs bare; she used the underground passage to get to his cabin.

“If you prefer to fuck a shlyukha, you just had to say so.” Valentina says, fingers trailing up the skin of her waist while keeping his gaze. Tanaka can’t respond, doesn’t want to, anything he says is fuel to her wildfire. “I can be a whore.”

She’s raging, the very air around her too thick for Tanaka to breathe easily, and when she takes a step forward, he imitates backward. He’s controlled by her until he collapses into his leather armchair and she towers over him, bare-breasted and deadly.

Valentina’s fingers tug at the knot of the scarf, slipping the silk through her fingers as she regards the man before her, twisting it into a tight coil until ready to spring, like her.

It’s those eyes, she realises. Stormy, grey, like a tumultuous ocean swallowing her body whole, ravaging and cleansing her all at once. She can’t stand to see them now. Tanaka doesn’t protest when she leans over him, unfurling the scarf to tie it around his head, blindfolding him. Ostensibly for control. She knows otherwise that his eyes will make her crumble down, dissolve into their depths.

Tanaka’s heart thumps, pressing against his ribcage furiously enough to shake his chest. Any argument cut off in his throat when he feels Valentina’s lips against it. His body begins to cover in a cold sweat, confused with the hurdling emotions inside: panic, guilt, anger, and underneath it all, arousal.

“Have you even showered yet,” she whispers against his skin, “or is this taste hers?” A hot tongue drags up the side of his neck until it touches the puff of his earlobe, teeth nipping. If Tanaka looks down past the tip of his nose, he can see her palms gripping the arms of the chair, the plush leather folding in. He can see the curve of her shoulder and the tail of the snake as she leans into him. And he can feel the warmth of her skin when she straddles him.

It’s not tight, her ass seated on the edge of his knees, but he feels heat anyway. It rolls off Valentina’s body in waves, washing over him so that he begins to pant. Nails rake up his chest, goosebumps pricking on his forearms which he keeps still, away from reaching out to wrap around her and bring their bodies together.

“Did she touch you like this?” Valentina’s hand wraps around his throat, the other drifting to the tent in Tanaka’s sweatpants. When she stops moving, he realises she expects a response.

“Nyet,” he grunts out, erection twitching beneath her palm, the vein in his neck swelling. 

A brisk exhale fans over his face, then he smells the peppercorn and vanilla of her skin as she lifts from his knees. She must be close, the static between his lips and her stomach electric. He bites his tongue to stop from tasting her skin. When she falls, her hand had shifted his erection from the loose constraints of his pants, free and standing to attention. There’s fire and rain, and Tanaka peers down to make out the black of Valentina’s underwear clinging to her slick folds, nestled against his groin. It provides slight relief, knowing she is aroused like him. 

She begins to roll her hips. On instinct, Tanaka shifts down into a slouch to bring her higher, to feel more friction. His fingers jump where they rest on the chair, fighting not to grab at her, palms sweating. For Valentina, this is easy. Men are so responsive, so easy to lead and dissuade, and fuck. They treat sex as though it is nothing.

It’s sex, Ryunoslav’s words echo in her hazy mind, her hands flying to his shoulders as though to bring her back to her actions. Focus on the movement, it tells her, and she grinds down onto him. She feels as he pants against her neck, her breasts moving to press against his chest so that he can feel all of her at once, reminded of what he missed. The jealousy in her heart pains her, knowing that it’s irrational to feel ownership over a man that is not truly her’s. But she feels it regardless. She wants him completely.

His neck is thick beneath her palm, veins beating steadily in time with the grinding of her hips. The line of her folds wrap around him, dragging up and down his length that when she looks down, she sees it weep. The tightening of his gut tells her even more and she grins almost wickedly.

“Does it feel good, Ryu?” she whispers against him, lips hovering teasingly above his own. Tanaka tries to close the gap. She’s near, yet so far away, unreachable in her anger.

“No, you don’t get to kiss me. Not when I’m your whore.”

He moans then, shamefully turned on by the hard edge of her voice and the soft skin wrapped around him, coaxing something out from within. 

“Val,” he utters her name under his breath, the fog in his mind not clearing as it builds higher, tighter. She can feel the storm brewing. His shoulders tense, forearms hovering as though-

“Do you want to touch me?” she bites at his ear, one of his most sensitive features. It takes Tanaka everything to hold back, his hips thrusting up desperately.

“Yes. God, yes.”

“What’s stopping you?”

Valentina watches as the gold, browns and pinks of her scarf wrinkle with his frown.

“You never said I could.”

She falters for a moment, taken aback by the worship and strain in his voice. This is why she covered his eyes, she never knew she had to gag him as well. Some of the ice in her heart begins to melt, dripping down her chest like the sweat on Ryunoslav’s forehead.

“Touch me.”

His hands are on her instantly. With her back under his calloused palms, he can feel every movement of her waist, her hips. He strokes up, her body memerised so thoroughly he can paint a replica of her in his mind. With the eyes tattooed on the back of his hands, he sees her. It was the last push he needed, the rain clouds in his mind bursting as he spills a storm over his abdomen, finding clarity. 

It’s wet, warm and cold simultaneously. He feels Valentina’s forehead fall to his shoulder, her spine shaking. There’s a sniff, the smallest of tears leaking into the dips of his muscled shoulders. With one hand, he presses her tightly, his ejaculation spreading messily between their bodies, the other rips the scarf from his eyes so he can drink in the sight of her, his nose nuzzled into her hair.

“Val...” he mumbles against her skin, fingers combing through the hair at her nape, lips finding contact with her neck, then temple. “Look at me, pazolvste.”

And when she does, the world stops. He tries to read the swirl of emotions in her eyes. Is it exhaustion? Arousal? Defeat? All three? Tanaka brushes sweaty strands from her neck, forehead, smoothing down the hair. Valentina glances at his lips, or her eyes drop, either way, with the next inhale, their lips meet.

Part 5 - Valentina

Tanaka tastes different. Tangy and bitter, the kind that makes you want to tear away, only to constantly come back for another sip, addicted. You’re sticky, the sweat from his chest and the spill of his seed spreading against your stomach, screaming at you to separate from him. Everything is telling you to stop.

But you can’t

And you never want to. His tongue swipes across the seam of your lips, and you happily oblige, too weary from the rollercoaster of emotions that had ripped through you to fight for dominance. Tanaka, however, doesn’t seem to mind, your tongues intertwining so seamlessly, you briefly wonder if you’ll ever separate them again.

He pulls apart to breathe, chest still heaving from his orgasm and your mind games. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, you realise what you’ve done, how full of blind rage and hurt you were. Tanaka registers the panic in your eyes, the way your mouth opens to say,

“I’m sorry.”

You’re suddenly smaller, eyes downcast to stare at his chest, tracing the outline of the Georgian cross tattooed over his heart, the eight point star on each shoulder beneath his collarbones, reminding you that you’re in a world of thieves. That you yourself are one, and you crossed a boundary tonight that you’ve never crossed before. In his residence. He lifts your chin with a steady finger, forcing you to stare into still, open waters.

“It’s okay.”

But it’s not, you’re not okay. Tanaka must’ve sensed the growing unease as you shift on his lap, knees still pressed tightly to his hips, his softened dick lazing against your groin.

“I would’ve stopped you if I didn’t want it,” his voice is a hushed whisper, washing over you.

“I should not have come here tonight.”

“I’m happy you did, Gadyuka.”

For some reason, you believe him, the tides in his eyes pulling you closer so that once again your lips melt into his and your heart drums in your throat. Ryunoslav unzips your boots, letting them drop unceremoniously to the floor. His hands find purchase beneath your rear, and he stands, lifting you so easily as he carries you through a small door and into the bathroom.

It smells like him: salty, humid, yet crisp, like cold mist when the seasons change. You reluctantly break apart when your feet touch the cool tile, and you look around while Ryu draws a bath. There’s no mirror over the sink--instead on the tiled wall opposite the shower--just a shelf with his electric razor, toothbrush and some creams. The thought that you’d like to shave his head flits across your mind, but you shake it out, turning to watch him fill a simple wooden bathtub with steaming water.

“Are you going to wash me like a child?” you ask, eyebrows raising to show your amusement. He chuckles, his eyes matching your teasing tone, the tension of before dissolving with the mist in the air.

“Nyet, unless you want me to,” he muses, eyes drifting across the splattered cotton against your skin. “You are dirty.”

You lick your teeth, taking in how he’s seated on the edge, sweatpants still haphazardly down his legs to show a hint of the tattoos and scars on the tops of his thighs, “so are you.”

He holds his arms out and you move to stand between his knees, warm hands trailing up your hamstrings, over the cups of your cheeks and peeling down your soiled black thong. You feel… calm, the rage and guilt subsiding to leave an empty stillness in its place, in your gut, where he rests his forehead and your fingers scrape his scalp.

You bathe first, Tanaka’s rough hands scraping away grime, before you switch and run your hands over his corded muscles. The moment is too intimate to speak, both of you barely even breathing as he wraps a towel around his waist and pulls a too long t-shirt over your head. It’s only when you’re out of the confines of the bathroom that he breaks the silence. 

“You’ll have to destroy the shirt when you leave,” Ryu observes, tugging at the shoulder seam so that the neckline centers on your body instead of dropping over one shoulder.

“Do you want me to leave?” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest, fingers drumming in a quick beat against your forearms.

“Never.”

Shrugging, you turn on your heel and stride to the messy bed, ignoring the way your stomach flips as it remembers who was the last woman to touch it--that it wasn’t you--and climb onto the mattress. For the first time, you see Tanaka completely taken by surprise. He’s close to asking you ‘why?’ but thinks against it, hurtling after you to pull you into his arms, against his chest.

This is unchartered waters, the bed a dinghy and in his room are endless possibilities. But that’s where it starts and ends. You drag your fingers lazily up his forearm, over a few scars, tracing the bouquet of lilies drawn in thick black lines that stand off his skin; prison tattoos seldom heal flat.

“What does this mean?” you stare up at him, curious as you’ve never had much time to talk with him before, to delve deeper past your lust for each other. Ryunoslav clears his throat.

“It’s for my home,” he mumbles, nose moving to your hair, his eyes clouding over as he watches your fingers. “And my mother.”

The way he explains the beauty of the wild lilies in his home village of Kazakhstan, the bouquet his mother would pluck and keep on their table, sends shivers down your spine. Why would he ever have run away? You learn he has a sister, Saeko, who left with him and fell into the life of the thieves before him, and instead, he went to prison.

In this little bubble, you feel inexplicably warm, cosy, like the world has fallen away. You tell him about your own mother, how her eyes were incredibly warm and the colour of amber, but she never smiled. About how you grew up in Georgia surrounded by powerful men and strived to be just as important one day. Ryunoslav smiled at that, kissing your wrist where the fangs of the snake bit into.

He tells you about the years he spent in and out of juvenile prison in Moscow, unfurling the duvet to explain that each cathedral dome tattooed upon his leg meant time served. He had four. The rose on his left bicep meant he turned 18 in prison.

“The Boss found me a month after,” he recalls, eyes far away, “I’m forever thankful. I was very sick from the tattoo and I would have died if he didn’t take me away.”

Daichi, a part of you whispers. With the thought of your husband, you tense up, shifting until you’re sitting with your hand pressed to Tanaka’s beating heart.

“Ryunoslav,” you call, looking past his head and into the grain of the wood. “What are we going to do?”

“Mm?”

Your eyes snap to his, a cold sweat tickling your spine. You’ve crossed lines tonight, and not by a little. You’ve run so far past it, you can’t even see it if you turn back.

“He’ll know.”

Tanaka straightens up too, attentive to your words but eyes calm with a lazy smile.

“He won’t.”

“He will. Ryunoslav, I can’t keep this a secret now.”

Beneath your palm, you can feel his heartbeat, slow, while your own pounds in your ears.

“You have to. He’ll kill us.”

You stay silent, mulling over the sincerity in Tanaka’s statement. He says it nonchalantly, like it’s the only fact that matters. You want to tell him that you love him. You don’t. Instead, you lay your head back to his chest to listen to that steady, strong drum beneath his ribs. After a few seconds, you inhale deeply.

“I think Daichi is having an affair.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Tanaka says instantly, arms wrapping so tightly around you, as if you’ll vanish if he can’t feel you.

“Ryu-”

“Valentina, please. God knows we never get to be alone like this.” That brash, harsh tone you’re used to finally edges it’s way back into his voice. It should scare you, instead you huddle closer to him while he continues. “Even if he’s having an affair, aren’t we doing the same? Let us just be in this moment.”

Tanaka tucks you beneath his chin, the heartbeat in his jaw syncing with yours against his chest. You murmur a ‘fine’, mind still reeling from the evening's events and the intoxication of his lips.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you know he didn’t at all. Ryunoslav shakes you awake, whispering that you have to go, that Daichi gets back in the late afternoon. When the coat is wrapped around you and your fingers hover over the door, you look at him as he frowns at you.

“We should not see each other for a few days,” he states. Although his voice is calm, his chest vibrates with nerves. You know it’s the last thing he wants. You agree anyway, with a slight nod of your head.

***

NEXT CHAPTER

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Reasons Wretched and Divine

(Hybrid! Namjoon x Reader) (Eventual Polyamory) 

Summary: You live on an isolated but sprawling farm with your abusive husband, but things start to change for the better when your husband adopts a retired police dog hybrid named Namjoon. 

Warnings: Domestic abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of police brutality, yearning, implied coercive sex (ie- rape, but nothing is explicitly written), Premeditated murder, Namjoon is mad protective, mentions of scars.  W/c: 4.0k Song rec: Cherry wine by Hozier  A/N: The pre-part of this story is super dark, but keep in mind, it does get a lot better really quick after this chapter, eventually and definitely more soft! don’t know how many parts/how long it will be either so it might end suddenly! Also: this series does not depict the police or the military in a positive light.

- Hybrids have been replacing K-9 units in the police force for the better part of the last 50 years. Generally, they have the same capabilities as old-fashioned police dogs but hybrids can communicate better than animals and are therefore more useful. Namjoon is apart of the general unit, used for patrolling most of the time, and for his specialtys- bomb-sniffing and human remain identification- when it’s needed. 

- Most police hybrids are retired after 10 or 20 years but are given the option to leave every 5. Though few police hybrids ever go back into the general population of hybrids or adopted by familys. Instead, most are sent to rehabilitation facilities or long term care facilities.

- Namjoon has only been working for 7 years when he is forcibly retired, or fired for lack of a better word. The official paperwork states that it was because of a ‘failure to follow orders in a potentially life threating situation’ but that’s just unture. It was over so quick, his commanding officer ordering him to beat up a drug dealer that Namjoon had positively id’d, the man who was already in handcuffs. The dealer had refused to tell them who the higher-ups wherein a drug-dealing ring and had mouthed off.

- But he hadn’t done anything wrong- anything illegal, wasn’t struggling or trying to get free- and Namjoon had refused with clenched fists, confused as to why his commanding officer was ordering him to ‘make him talk’. 

- The next thing Namjoon knew he was the one being put into handcuffs. But what was more moral, Namjoon’s refusal? Or to beat a cuffed man for backtalk? or did the law, what Namjoon’s life was build around, have nothing to do with morality? 

- Namjoon was lucky really, after so many years in the force, to be deemed still adoptable and not a danger to society, Other hybrids weren’t as lucky. He knows his special treatment has something to do with his old partner who had been promoted to police chief a few years ago, who had a soft spot for Namjoon and didn’t want to see Namjoon go to one of the long term care facilities Upstate or even put down like the few hybrids that go feral sometimes are. 

- The man was never really Namjoon’s father, or a parent by any standard of the word. Like other police hybrids, he’d been trained to be in the force from the time he was too young to really remember any parental figures. But there had been some good moments, some pleasant memories made with his old partner. 

- When 16-year-old Namjoon had graduated from the hybrid training academy and had suddenly been thrown into the real world. A box of donuts shared in the front seat of a police car, the older man reaching down to tighten the straps on Namjoon’s too large bulletproof vest. A single pet, rough hands combing through his brown hair when he’d done a good job- like that time he’d ID a bomber from just the residue on his hands.  

- They haven’t seen each other in years at this point, but he does meet with Namjoon right before his auction, ask him how he’s doing- if there’s anything he needs. And a goodbye where he tells Namjoon- that if there’s every anything he needs in his new life he can call. 

- His old partner is the closest thing to a parental figure that Namjoon’s ever had and Maybe at another time, he would feel bad or sorry for himself for being denied something that most others have. But Namjoon knew he was lucky to have this chance, even if he felt more like a piece of cattle than a person as he was auctioned off with old police cars and ambulances at one of the quarterly auctions the city holds for all municipal property that is no longer up to government standards.    

- And apparently, having a strong sense of justice regardless of orders and thinking for himself makes Namjoon below those standards too. 

- Namjoon is a Doberman pinscher mix hybrid, is all nasty and scarred across his face and a particularly nasty one on his lower lip from a car bomb explosion a few years ago. He’s surprised he’s bid on at all with how shabby and aggressive he looks, but he goes to the man in the back of the room who hides his face with a baseball cap and pays a full 7,000 dollars for Namjoon and he counts himself lucky. 

- On the drive to his new home, the man outlines why he’s purchased Namjoon. The man is a rich ex-colonel with a new wife, even newer property that needs attending too, the farm too large for him to look after on his own. He’s quick to assert that Namjoon will not be a house pet- which is fine. 

- And after so many years being on the front lines of the worst of the police force, He’s really touchy. He will growl if anyone he doesn’t trust comes too near.  Namjoon knows he wouldn’t be a good one anyway but at least he won’t be so idle in his new life.

- You live in a nice and orderly farmhouse, the surrounding land barren mostly, accepts for the grass the endless stretches of pristine lawn. It’s a 2 hour drive  outside of the city that Namjoon grew up in, and an hour away from the coast. 

- The house is ancient, almost too large to be called a farmhouse with a wrap-around porch and more than a few creaky floorboards but the updated and impeccably maintained insides fortel money like Namjoon’s only seen during drug busts. The land sprawling but somehow fallow seeming with refurbished barns turned garages and workshops rimming the edge of the property. The cedar shingles of the barns ocher fading grey and sticking out against the green.

- The property is Rimmed by a few dozen acres of untamed and uncleared forest. The tall oak tree and The small garden next to your house the only thing at all colorful. But the garden almost seems stifled Not a leaf out of place, or a plant that seems anything less than perfect and contained separate from the others. 

- The first thing that stings his nose when he walks in and puts his bag down in the entryway is the stinging stench of bleach and something else that he can’t identify. It was like that with most hybrids, after a little while when they got accustomed to the scent of their owners- they would be able to sense their emotions if they were sick. In a few weeks, he’ll probably be able to identify the peculiar scent better, but for now, it’s source remains a misery to him.  

- The house seems idyllic to Namjoon, almost too perfect and quiet, pretty area rugs and dark hardwood floors, white walls with photos in black picture frames. His owner gives him a second to set his stuff down before he joins the two of you for dinner. His bedroom is down the hall from the master bedroom on the second floor and it might not be anything special, but the light beige walls are calming. The window has a nice view of of the same hill they drove up. 

-  His new room is so different from his small bunk at the police station where he used to live, not an inch of grey concrete insight. The rot iron bed frame and linen curtains achingly homey. Namjoon is so happy he scents to linen curtains before he goes downstairs. He dosesn’t even really know why he does it, just that his instincts are making him want the whole room to smell like him.

• On the ground floor, there is not a hair or corner out of place in the kitchen. It’s nothing that you wouldn’t expect from a military man, and neither are you, beautiful and soft and quiet more demure than anything else.  You’ve made a full course meal to welcome Namjoon to your home, the evidence of your hard work in the few baby hairs that have come untucked from your smooth bun, your hair tightly pinned behind your head. 

- You turn from where you work over a casserole to the sound of Namjoon’s footsteps, your husband nursing a beer in the corner observing you and Namjoon with a keen eye. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here,” you say to Namjoon, not offering your hand in introduction yet or meeting his eyes. Your hands covered in flower that you dust against your plane canvas apron with yellow flowers along the hem.  

- You match the house- you’re perfectly delicate and domestic too, your leggings and tunic top pristine and white. Your makeup minimal but done well. He barely remembers his politeness, “Thank you for welcoming me into your home Miss Y/n.” your soft and shy nod in response, almost makes his tail wag. and he begins to hope that maybe, this new life won’t be so bad. At least compared to the last when his life was in danger nearly every day.

- “Would you mind taking these dishes to the dining room?” Namjoon nods, takes the salad, while he’s gone he misses that you turn to look to your husband for approval, and Namjoon misses his nod and the tick of his hands against the beer glass that makes you flinch. 

- Maybe if Namjoon had been on the track for the detective branch he would have realized what was wrong, but at first, Namjoon doesn’t notice anything strange about his new owners. Maybe it was a little weird how your husband seemed to order him around, but to be fair Namjoon had known a bunch of ex-military men- and he wasn’t expecting anything less than a stalwart will. 

- Namjoon is used to taking orders- he’s surprised at how little his life really changes when it comes to what he used to deal with at the police station and here. 

- During the first few days, your husband has him working to help upkeep the farm, one of the barns rust red and lifting heavy things, and in general, helping with the many chores that need to be done around the farm. It’s more of a passion project really since your husband is retired from the military and only occasionally goes into town to help with the VA.

-  Namjoon’s thankful that he hadn’t really been adopted to be a house pet since affections been foreign to him for so long. Namjoon’s not sure he’d know how to be a regular hybrid if he tried. 

- And of course, Namjoon is a little on edge constantly. The first time you try to reach out and pet him is a few days after he gets there, your husband isn’t home and you’d asked for Namjoon’s help getting the heavy crockpot down from the upper shelf. He senses the heat from your hand near his arm and he snaps, growling low and menacing. 

- You back away slowly, keeping your hands where he can see them, apologizing and looking like you’re near tears. dropping your shoulders and holding your hands out in front of your face like you think Namjoon is going to hit you. 

- But you also look so so sad, Namjoon realizes with a shock, and you smell terrified. You don’t try again to befriend him again, to give him any sort of affection, Keeping your distance after the growl. Something aching in your expression that puzzles him, something desolate, lonely and wanting whenever you look at him. 

- But what could a woman like you, who didn’t work and lived in what was basically a small mansion have to be sad about? What could someone who had everything want?  

- As Namjoon comes to know, you have quite a bit to be sad about.

- What’s more is that later, Namjoon is worried- worried you’re going to tell your husband what Namjoon did- growling at his owner’s wife would surely warrant being sent to the pound or being abandoned. But you say nothing, eating in silence only pausing with your meal to ask your husband what kind of work needs to be done at the VA this week. 

- “Trying to get me out of the house y/n?” he asks, gaze darkening. the smile you send his way is strained, bottom lip trembling, making Namjoon’s ears flick at how dissonant it all feels. “not at all dear, just wanted to know if I should make lunch for you tomorrow or if you’ll be getting something from the diner in town” 

- You’d think after so many years dealing with criminals he would have noticed sooner. He’s ashamed of it, but at first, he doesn’t catch how your husband grips your wrist hard enough to bruise when the peas have gotten cold while you tended to the salmon one night at dinner. He’s too busy scarfing down the rich food, so much tastier than the simple meals he’d grown up accustomed too. 

- He draws his first conclusions when he sees the bruises. Your husband chiding when Namjoon asks about some nasty ones on your palms (your husband had pushed you when you where in the driveway earlier after you’d almost opened the door into one of his other expensive cars) “She’s always just so clumsy.” your husband justifies. 

- When Namjoon makes a comment on a particularly bad one your arm, (you’d moved away from him in your bedroom and your husband had dragged you close) And then another appears in the shape of fingerprints on both of your wrists (another bedroom casualty). And then on a day when your husband leaves early for the VA and Namjoon wakes up and comes to see why you haven’t come downstairs yet he sees your black eye before you can dab makeup around it or turn your face down to hide it. 

- You and Namjoon aren’t friends, you don’t even talk to each other much really after the growl beyond you asking him occasionally to lift something you can’t or reach something from a tall shelf- but he can’t ignore what he sees, can’t deny that he knows and wants to help. When he sees your black eye, he growls and asks you his first real question, “that’s from him, isn’t it?” 

-  Namjoon had been trained for years in the law, and he knows domestic abuse when he sees it. Knows what comes from it from years of studying law books. how the victims often feel trapped, often grow depended and can’t escape. The acrid smell he noticed when he came to say making sense- it’s just fear. painting the walls and the floorboards of your house, every inch of it.  

- When you see him staring in the mirror, you nodd and continue to blend the makeup around your eye, without saying a word to Namjoon. 

- The day that Namjoon hears you scream, his heart drops into his stomach and he runs to you.  He finds your husband holding you up by your hair screaming about how he’d found an app downloaded on your phone that shouldn’t have been. 

- “You fucking unfaithful slut! What are you trying going to do find another man to take in your worthless ass on Instagram? I put up with so much from you! Your fucking sloppiness- mucking up my house with all your shit- I don’t even know why I try to help you anymore when it’s obvious don’t fucking know how to be fucking faithfull- you never had someone to teach you how to love and now i’m the one who has to teach you this bullshit” your husband sees namjoon at the door, “Why don’t you ask him Y/n. Namjoon tell me, can you teach an old bitch new tricks?” 

- Namjoon is quick to put himself in between the two of you, catching your husband’s wrist before he hits you again (one of your cheeks is already red) but it’s the wrong move. Namjoon is taller than your husband, but he does probably have a little more muscle on him than Namjoon does. 

- Your husband is even nastier and brutal than he usually is. And Namjoon knows he can’t hit back. When Namjoon falls to his floor, keeping his body in between yours and your husbands shielding you his head is spinning and his lip is aching and split, your husband growls back that if he does fight back again- Namjoon will have earned himself a one-way ticket to hell. 

- After all who wouldn’t believe that a retired police hybrid would break one day and snap back to his most basic instincts? The way your husband spun the story, Namjoon believes that he really would. 

- Late at night sometimes he takes out one of his guns and polishes it in front of Namjoon looking at him with a glint of mad anger in his eyes. Namjoon knows if he tries to stop him, and tries to tell someone about what your husband does, he will get hurt and you will too. 

- And then he’d be leaving you to the mercy of your husband, and that just won’t do. You where just someone who needed help like the countless people he’s saved over the years, and you’d be alone to be in pain just like you had in the beginning. 

- Such shame fills him for not noticing sooner, even as you dab at some blood on Namjoon’s cheek with a wet cloth after the first time he intervenes. until that point, you haven’t said much to him or tried to touch him beyond that first day when he growled at you.  He catches your wrist gently another bruise already forming there, and you hiss lowly at him and rip it from his grasp. 

- Casting an anxious look in the direction of where your husband disappeared, you can still hear the thrum of the shower though and know your words will be disguised by the hum of the water. “You can’t Namjoon- you can’t touch me, that will only make him angrier- please, please don’t get yourself hurt for me.”

- But Namjoon is terrible at following orders. He feels rage well up inside of him because you’re just trying to help him, even though you’re in need of help yourself. You’re an innocent like the ones he used to protect and there is no one here to do that for you. 

-  Your husband is a criminal and Namjoon has always had a strong sense of justice. So Namjoon will do his best to protect you- and divert your husband’s attention whenever possible, and help you as he can. 

- So Namjoon can do nothing but watch, try to mitigate and try to help. there are days when Namjoon says that he was the one who knocked a picture frame off the wall when Namjoon makes a mistake to distract from one that you make, creating distractions. 

- After that, things change, Namjoon is just another person that your husband can exert his need for control over. Smacks Namjoons hand with the end of a dowl when he drops a box of nails, purposefully slamming the door shut on Namjoon’s tail. Namjoon can take it, he’s no stranger to pain or brutal overworking. But still- Namjoon tries to keep him out of the house as much as possible, keeps him away from you when he can. 

- It’s hard, there are many more nights where he fails rather than succeeds. But on the nights where he manages to keep you safe until your husband falls asleep, make a sour kind of accomplishment take root in his chest. He stares up at the ceiling in his room, lying on top of the covers in his bed, turning over the day’s events,  when he hears a noise, your quiet footsteps in the hallway. 

- Namjoon moves slowly so as to not cause a creek, but he opens the door to find you there waiting outside, in the gray light of the moon streaming through the window at the end of the hallway. 

- You are drowned in shades of black and white, like some old photograph as you look up at Namjoon, reaching forward again to touch him. It’s been so long since you’ve felt any tender touch unmarred by pain or fear. The words of your husband weigh on your heart like a shackle. “You don’t know how to love.” when you look at Namjoon you think that maybe- maybe if things where different- you could learn. You’ve never known much about hybrids other than they where made to be loved. 

- As you reach your hand forward slowly Namjoon doesn’t growl like the first time. The first time your hand touches his cheek, it feels like something good falls into place. He lets your hand rest there and leans into the touch, just as hungry for something good and soft as you are. It’s the first time he’s been touched with so much softness, and already it feels so good that it makes emotions he’s never had well up in his throat and choke off any noise he might make. 

- He makes the choice to pull you closer to him. You are so so small that he can barely lean his elbows on your shoulders even as you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your head in his chest. Namjoon’s tail starts to wag and hits up against the doorframe, you both freeze, and he catches it before it makes any more noise. Both of you listen with bated breath. Down the hall, your husband gives a particularly loud snore but stays asleep. 

- It’s only that, only a hug before You part from him holding his gaze before you slink back to your room careful to avoid the floorboards that creak. Knowing he’ll wake up if your warmth in his bed is gone for long or if there are any particularly harsh noises. 

- It starts to become an everyday sort of thing, every night after your husband has gone to bed you meet Namjoon in the hallway. Sometimes you stay longer in his arms, sometimes you need too, and sometimes you shake and quiver like a leaf in a storm and Namjoon can do nothing but hold you and try to keep you steady. 

- Sometimes it’s worse, sometimes you come into the hallway moving slower and shadowed, your hips stiff and his smell all over you. And Namjoon will nuzzle into the hickeys on your neck left by him and growl lowly at them. And you’ll be still in his arms quieting him by running your fingers over the back of his neck and through his hair if you’re brave enough. 

- Namjoon wonders how something so sweet got trapped in a place so bad, how you ended up with a man like him. On one of the rare days your husband has work down in the VA, he asks you. You’ve started to talk more, but only when your husband is out of the house. Sometimes you stand close by the counter and enjoy a simple thing like a cup of coffee togeater. 

- You have rare good days, where there isn’t much to do besides sit on the couch or play a game of cards in the kitchen. Or other times, more tender things, though It feels so vulnerable and intimate to hug you in your kitchen, in broad daylight no less and not be enswathed in the safe cocoon of darkness. Namjoon is careful to watch the window over your shoulder waiting for the moment when your husband comes home and you have to separate. 

- But he hugs you in your kitchen, light streaming through. Running his hands over your shoulders and feeling them deflate more every moment. He asks you why you loved him at one point enough to marry him. “He wasn’t bad at first- the opposite, he made me feel special and like I belonged somewhere, but then after we got married he started to change and-“ your voice breaks off. Namjoon brushes away your tears with his thumbs. 

- The day your husband adds to the scars on Namjoon’s face is the first day your lips touch his skin. 

- You have some Vaseline and some skin-safe glue to patch up the gash in his cheekbone just under his lower eye (the mark of a thrown glass after Namjoon had knocked over a lamp in the living room) it could probably use stitches, but it’s the best that he can do. You have a cut on your finger too from picking up that glass, and Namjoon kisses it first, lips pressed to them gently before you wrap them with bandaids. 

- Tomorrow, you’ll patch it up a little better, but for now, you meet in the hallway and your lips brush over the base of it, not close enough to irritate it. and namjoon makes a noise in the back of his throat in suprise. Even though the action is tender. He can see your hurt by him, you shake with silent sobs by this, by everything that’s happened, and it doesn’t feel like he can bear it anymore. 

- He’d never thought of himself as a killer, but now he thinks he understands why someone would. To keep you safe, Namjoon would kill your husband. Namjoon will he realizes- to free you of this pain. Namjoon has never hated another living thing more than he hates your husband. And namjoon has come to the conclusion that the world would be a better place if he where dead- call it a crisis of faith in the law but sometimes- the law just can’t get things done. so namjoon will take it into his own hands. 

- That night, Namjoon dreams that you falling asleep on his chest, small and happy, smiling in your sleep, he dreams of waking up with you in his arms just once. And in that dream world Namjoon gets to run his fingers through your hair and watch over you to make sure you’re safe. And when he wakes, he finds you with a fresh black eye and knows that one day, one day soon he’s going to get you out of here, even if it means Namjoon doesn’t.  

• Namjoon keeps his anger and his evil intentions a secret; even from himself at times. He thinks about the small river by your house, drowning your husband and holding him under the water. Or the lift in the fancy barn that was used for your husband’s expensive car collection, the button that releases the hydraulics so close and itching to be pressed anytime he goes under them. 

- Namjoon wonders how he’s going to do it, with Namjoon’s hands around his throat or a well-placed shovel to the back of his head or even, or if he can find the passcode- one of the guns in the gun safe. Quick and easy, buried in the backyard or dissolved in acid.

-  Namjoon has been in on enough homicide cases, he knows how hard it is to get away with murder, but he loves you enough to try- even if he knows it’s futile. It will take a fair bit of planning, and Namjoon starts the painstaking process.

- But then one morning, when your husband leaves early without any explanation, Namjoon walks into your bathroom to find you hurling your guts out into the toilet, and a pregnancy test sitting on the counter and feels horror spark in his stomach. 

- You’re pregnant, and that changes everything. 

PART 2

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

Up and down the mid-Atlantic coast, sea levels are rising rapidly, creating stands of dead trees — often bleached, sometimes blackened — known as ghost forests.

The water is gaining as much as 5 millimeters per year in some places, well above the global average of 3.1 millimeters, driven by profound environmental shifts that include climate change.

Increasingly powerful storms, a consequence of a warming world, push seawater inland. More intense dry spells reduce freshwater flowing outward. Adding to the peril, in some places the land is naturally sinking.

All of this allows seawater to claim new territory, killing trees from the roots up.

Rising seas often conjure the threat to faraway, low-lying nations or island-states. But to understand the immediate consequences of some of the most rapid sea-level rise anywhere in the world, stand among the scraggly, dying pines of Dorchester County along the Maryland coast.

Part of the reason for the quickly rising waters may be that the Gulf Stream, which flows northward up the coast, is slowing down as meltwater from Greenland inhibits its flow. That is causing what some scientists describe as a pileup of water along the East Coast, elevating sea levels locally.

The effects of climate change are also exacerbated by land that is sinking as a result of geological processes triggered by the end of the last ice age.

Because of the extraordinary speed at which the water is rising here, Dr. Gedan said, “I think of this area as a window into the future for the rest of the world.”

As saltwater moves into the ground, oak and other sensitive hardwoods die first. Loblolly pine, the most salt-tolerant, is often the last tree standing until it, too, is overwhelmed.

Then the saltwater marsh plants move in. If you’re lucky, velvety tufts of cordgrass sprout. If not, impenetrable stands of cane-like Phragmites, an invasive species, take over.