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hbyrde36 · 6 months

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Chapter 1: Under My Skin

Written for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

Art (coming soon!) by @glitterfang

Beta'd by @penny00dreadful

Rating: E | WC: 5937 | Chapters: 1/2 | AO3 Link

Not for the first time, Eddie was really regretting his decision to book a client on a Friday night, and a new client at that.

It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, exactly. There were no dates on his calendar, and going out to random bars and clubs on the weekends to look for quick hookups had begun losing its appeal lately.

But it’d been a long week, and he’d much rather have been getting ready to plop down on the couch with Chrissy to split a bottle of red wine while they watched Drag Race, than preparing to do a cover up for some idiot who’d gotten his girlfriend’s name tattooed on his body, only to fall victim to—The Curse.

Ask any tattoo artist and they’d be the first to tell you, there was no surer way to guarantee a breakup than to ink your significant other’s name on your body forever.

And yeah, it probably wasn’t fair to judge the guy before they’d even met, but there were only two kinds of people who tended to make that particular mistake—dumbasses, and hopeless romantics. He just kind of assumed his client fell into the former camp, rather than the latter.

Eddie had just started wiping down the front desk counter, which doubled as a display case for the various accessories and body jewelry they carried trying to kill some time between his last appointment and cover-up-guy, when Chrissy came walking out of her studio.

It was one of the biggest perks, in his opinion, of owning their own shop. Not only did each of them finally have their own work spaces—no more having to listen to other client conversations or fighting over a single bluetooth speaker—but being their own bosses also meant they could decorate and customize their own studios to their heart’s content.

The main area of the shop was a bit of a catch-all, much like his and Chrissy’s shared apartment. It featured neutral walls lined with a mishmash of all the things they loved, sprinkled in and amongst odd antiques, knick-knacks, and various pieces of unique artwork. There was everything from vintage vinyl record jackets tacked to the wall, to faux taxidermy mountings of creatures that had never existed in real life.

Entering Chrissy’s studio was a little like stepping inside a Lisa Frank notebook cover. All vibrant rainbow colors and aggressive animal print. Eddie had painted the walls himself, color matching the exact shade of fuchsia as the adjustable chair he’d custom ordered just for her. He was no interior designer so she’d taken it from there, and though the finished product was a little too bright for his tastes, even he had to admit it was still pretty fucking metal.

Eddie’s space was the polar opposite, featuring dark stained wood furniture and a style of decor that could be best described as a slightly more grown up version of a teenage boy's bedroom. Band and movie posters lined three of the walls, but instead of being held up with thumbtacks, or scotch tape, they were neatly laid in matching frames with thick black edging. The remaining wall held a gallery of photos. Him and Wayne from their last fishing trip, one from when he and Chrissy had received the keys to the parlor unlocking its doors on the first day that it was theirs, and an old snap of him and his high school bandmates standing in front of their homemade banner, among many others.

It wasn’t until Chrissy came up to lean on the counter with her jacket zipped-up and her purse slung over her shoulder that he realized something was up.

“Don’t forget to lock up when you're done.” She said, tapping her nails on the glass. “Oh! And can you stop and pick up some oat milk on your way home? We’re out.”

“Wait, where are you going? Didn’t you have a client booked tonight too? I thought we were in this together, Cunningham!”

“Not anymore.” She said cheerfully, leaning across the counter to rest her elbows on the glass, leaving an ink smudge on the exact spot he had just finished cleaning. He swatted at her with the damp rag and she jerked back with a giggling-gasp.

“Mine had to cancel.”

Eddie groaned. “I hate when clients do that.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s like a free night off I wasn’t expecting.”

“Not exactly free, since canceling means not paying in full.” He grumbled.

“Oh lighten up! It’s not like we’re that behind on bills or anything.”

“Tell that to the electric company.” He said, mostly to tease her, though he couldn't help glancing up at the excessively large and kitschy skull chandelier he’d found on Amazon that definitely didn’t use high efficiency light bulbs, but he had sworn at the time was worth it for The Aesthetic™.

“Why are you always so grumpy?” Chrissy asked, jutting her lip out in a dramatic reenactment of him pouting.

Not that he was one to pout.

“I’m not!”

“Look at your face, you're grumpy right now!”

“That's because y- you’re…” He cut himself off with a sigh.

He couldn't begrudge her the time off, he’d be hightailing it out of there just the same if it had been him.

“Just get out of here.” He said, conceding defeat.

She beamed. “Okay! See you later!” She said, all but sprinting to the front doors. “Don’t forget about the milk!”

“Wait, why can’t you–” He started to ask, but she was on the other side of the door before he could get the words out.

“Oh forget it.” He mumbled, stashing the glass cleaner away where it belonged.

About fifteen minutes later the bell above the door chimed, signaling the arrival of what Eddie assumed to be his last customer of the day.

Except, it couldn't be.

It couldn’t possibly be because the Adonis that had just entered his humble tattoo parlor was, quite frankly, bonkers hot. There was no way, absolutely no way someone had this guy—this guy—so obsessed with them that he went and got their name tattooed on his perfect body and then just… let him go.

It was unthinkable.

“Hi, you must be Eddie. I recognized you from your Instagram.” Pretty-boy said with a shy smile.

“Steve?” Eddie asked, blinking hard, completely unable to mask the tone of disbelief.

The other man nodded.

Shit, okay.

So this was him—Steeeeeeve Harrington. This was the guy.

Maybe there was something wrong with him? There had to be a catch, a series of very red flags or something because all Eddie could think about at that moment was, if he ever got a chance with Steve? He’d never let him go.

Get it together, Munson!

The bright side, of a sort, was that Steve smacked of straight guy energy, so it was unlikely Eddie would even be in the running for a chance anyway. Better to just put it out of his mind.

Though, he supposed he could still… look. It's not like looking ever hurt anyone. Not that he made a habit out of ogling the clientele. Of course, none of his other customers had ever come in wearing vintage Levi’s that fit their ass like a glove, not to mention the way they fit around his–

“Eddie?”

Fuck.

Had Steve been talking this whole time while he’d been off daydreaming about what those sinfully tight jeans might look like on his bedroom floor?

“Yeah.” A soft chuckle fell from Eddie’s lips as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “S- sorry, man. Spaced out for a second there I guess.”

What the fuck was wrong with him today?!

“It’s okay. I was just asking if the plan was still the same? In your last email you suggested we should do this over two appointments.”

Work question… yes, good. Focus on the job!

“Right. With what we talked about I'd like to concentrate on just the outline today, maybe a little shading, and then in six weeks or so once that’s healed have you come back for the color. If you’re still alright with that?”

Eddie could do the whole thing in one shot if Steve really wanted to sit that long, but with something like this he didn't want to feel rushed. He’d done a few concept sketches after emailing back and forth with Steve about what he was looking for, and honestly what they’d come up with wasn’t really his usual style. He could do it, he was more than capable, but he had to wonder why Steve had picked him, out of all the tattoo artists in the city. He’d seen Eddie’s Instagram, so he knew the kind of work he usually churned out. Hell, Chrissy would have been the more obvious choice for this.

Of course, now that he’d gotten an eye-full of Steve in person he was glad he hadn’t tried to pawn him off on her. He was also really hoping Steve would agree to the split sessions, it would give them an excuse to see each other again.

“Whatever you think is best. I’m putting myself in your expert hands.” Steve said, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

That was… interesting.

Maybe Eddie had been a little bit hasty in his initial straight assessment?

Steve’s deposit had been paid, and they’d already gone over pricing through email so there wasn't much to discuss as far as that was concerned, After signing some paperwork and getting the other man’s ID scanned into the system there was nothing left to do but walk Steve back to his studio and get this show on the road.

“You can go ahead and take your shirt off, get comfortable. I’ll show you the stencil I drew up and if it looks good we can put it on and get started.” Eddie said, gesturing to his client chair.

He leaned over his desk while Steve got situated, taking a second to gather his thoughts, as well as add a small finishing touch to the transfer sketch before turning back to his client. The sight made his throat go dry.

It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.

At Eddie's direction, in preparation, Steve had shaved his chest. More specifically, Steve had shaved half of his chest. The side Eddie would be working on, that sported the existing tattoo, was bare—smooth as a baby's bottom. The other side was…

It was…

Jesus Christ.

It should have looked ridiculous actually, and it was a little funny, but honestly all Eddie could think when he stared at the untrimmed side of Steve's upper body, resplendent with the most glorious chest hair, was that it was a travesty, a crime even, that he’d never get to see the whole thing grown out in its full glory.

The lack of a shirt also highlighted the fact that Steve was incredibly toned, much more so than he had initially appeared even through his slim fit henley.

Eddie shook his head, praying it had suddenly become an etch-a-sketch and he could clear out his thoughts by sheer force.

He truly didn’t know what had gotten into him. It was hardly the first time he’d worked on someone he found attractive, but usually he didn’t notice it quite this much. When you pierce and tattoo for a living you get used to seeing a lot of bare skin, including occasionally, areas typically reserved for romantic partners. Professional hazzard, but it’d never been a problem for him before. He was an artist, this was his craft, and bare skin was just another kind of canvas.

He blamed it on his current dry spell, self-imposed as it was.

It was easy enough to go out on a Saturday and find a guy or girl to bring home for the night, but he was so tired of one night stands and meaningless hookups in bar bathrooms. Where was the substance? He wanted companionship. He wanted a partner. He wanted to fall in love.

Eddie cleared his throat and crossed the room to hand Steve the stencil, busying himself with raising up his stool to the proper height and pulling on a pair of thick black neoprene gloves while the other man looked it over.

“It’s great.” Steve said.

“Good.” Eddie quietly let out the breath he’d been holding. “Alright I'm gonna put this on and have you take a look at the placement, make sure you like it, then we can get started.”

Eddie squeezed out a dime sized amount of the stencil gel and rubbed it into Steve’s chest, laying the transfer paper down in just the right way so that the final design would sufficiently cover what was underneath, assuming he had scaled it right.

It was perfect. After a quick check in the mirror, Steve agreed.

While they waited for it to dry Eddie double checked his set up to make sure he had everything he would need for the session.

“Ready to get started?”

Steve took a deep breath and blew it out slow. “Yeah. I am.”

His reply felt heavy, like maybe he was talking about more than just the tattoo. Had they known each other at all Eddie might have asked about it, but they were basically strangers, and it wasn’t his job to pry.

With steady hands he set the needle to Steve's skin and got to work.

They weren’t at it for very long before Steve started to squirm.

Eddie ignored it at first, he could tell the guy was trying hard to keep himself still, and he wasn’t really moving enough to actually disturb the work. Sometimes it took a bit for clients to sink into the feeling, to let the pain fade to the background enough that they could relax a little bit or at least be able to keep their body from trying to react to the odd sensation. But then he noticed the light sheen of sweat spreading over Steve's upper body, and would have sworn he could somehow feel the other man’s pulse quickening beneath the hand he had pressed so closely to his heart, even over the vibration of the tattoo machine.

He should probably stop and do a check-in, suggest a breather or some water. It wouldn't be the first time a seemingly tough muscle-bound guy had struggled to sit for him.

He opened his mouth to say something about it, lifting the needle as he took a quick glance up at Steve’s face, but what he saw had the words dying on his tongue. Steve was staring back at him, face flushed, breath coming quick and shallow, bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

That… did not look like a face that was in pain—or rather—it didn’t seem like the pain was unpleasant.

Fuck.

Eddie flicked his gaze quickly back down to his hands, the needle, fighting the urge to look lower.

He shouldn’t.

It wasn’t right.

The professional thing to do would be to ignore the reaction completely.

But Eddie was a weak, weak man.

He looked.

Just a quick peek, less than a half-second that his eyes wandered south, and immediately he regretted it.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuck.

Suspicion confirmed. Steve was hard. He was also huge if the unmistakable outline was any indication. Eddie bit his tongue, fighting back the groan that was trying to fight its way out of his throat.

Those jeans should be fucking illegal. The only thing worse would’ve been a pair of gray sweatpants. Now he was the one sweating.

“Sorry.” Steve said, voice strained.

Eddie stilled, lifting the machine away from Steve's chest again before looking back up to meet his eyes.

“For?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, challenging him to continue to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

“It’s fine, really. It… happens. Everyone reacts differently to the pain.”

Steve let out a high pitched and breathy huff of laughter. “It wasn’t like this last time.” He muttered under his breath.

Eddie tried hard not to read into that, not to think about what the difference might be.

“Do you need to take a break?”

“No,” Steve swallowed hard. Eddie watched, momentarily mesmerized by the bob of his adams apple. “But, uh, can we talk or something? To distract me?”

He sounded so vulnerable, and a little embarrassed. It was enough to snap Eddie out of his daze. The last thing he wanted was for the person in his chair to feel uncomfortable. Talking he could do, it was one of his best things.

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” Eddie asked casually, getting right back into his line work.

“You.” Steve answered quickly, pausing to clear his throat. “Um, I mean, did you always want to be a tattoo artist?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much. I used to spend all my time, including the time I should have been using to study or do my homework, drawing, sketching, painting, you name it, and it just kinda developed from there. I gave myself my first stick-and-poke when I was about 15. My uncle was pissed. Not about the tattoo exactly, but he was worried I wasn't being safe enough about it—sanitary and stuff. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. So, Wayne took me out the next day and we got a book about it, and he bought me all the right materials. Even let me practice on him when I graduated to a tattoo machine.”

“He sounds like a really great guy.” Steve said.

“Yeah, he is.” Eddie could feel the wistful smile spreading across his own face. “Not just anyone could step in and raise someone else’s kid like that. Just wish I got to see him more. I go back to Indiana to visit him a few times a year, but it’s not the same.”

“I don’t see my family very much either, but we’re not close.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. My parents, they’re–” Steve trailed off as if looking for the right words. “Well, let's just say they're not as supportive of my—life choices, as your uncle was for you.”

“Oh?”

“I, uh, came out to them a while ago… as bisexual? They didn’t take it very well. Said I was just going through some kind of phase or crisis or something. Sorry, this is probably, like, way too much information to share with someone I just met.”

“No. it’s—Okay, maybe to a normal person it might be but I've never been what anyone would describe as normal. And… I get it.”

Eddie didn’t really have to say it. The outside of the shop sported every kind of pride flag you could think of. There were pictures right behind him on the wall of him and Chrissy at their first ever pride parade right here in the city. Not to mention his social media profiles, where he had a bi flag right next to his age and pronouns in his bio. Steve knew, was the point, and Eddie was glad he’d felt safe enough in his shop—with him, to talk about it.

“Wayne was really good about that too.” Eddie said softly. “I’m sorry your parents weren’t.”

A comfortable silence settled between them after that and Eddie left it unbroken, better to let Steve decide which direction their conversation went from here—if he wanted to continue it. He seemed more relaxed already and his… predicament had mercifully gone down as they spoke.

“When did you—how did you… know?“ Steve asked after a while.

“Junior High.” Eddie answered quickly, smiling to himself as he indulged in a little nostalgia. “Kinda the opposite of the usual story, I guess. I thought I was gay. I had such a crush on this boy a grade above me. Nobody that would have given me the time of day mind you, I was a band geek and a huge nerd, but he was very nice to look at. Then he changed schools. I was heartbroken of course, which is my excuse for why I let this girl drag me under the bleachers during gym class. One second we were just sitting there talking and the next she was in my lap with her tongue down my throat.”

“And?”

Eddie shrugged. “And I didn’t hate it. I reacted exactly the way a young boy reacts when a pretty girl is kissing them and grinding in their lap. Honestly, it blew my mind a little bit—had to reevaluate my whole world view.”

Steve hummed in understanding.

“It’s still mostly men for me but–” Eddie sighed wistfully, “Women.”

“Women,” Steve agreed reverently, letting out a soft laugh. “It was a bit more recent for me. A friend took me to a gay bar—dragged me there actually.” He started to shake his head, stopping instantly when he seemed to realize he might be moving too much.

Good boy.

Eddie smirked. “I bet you were popular.”

“You could say that. I’ve never had so many people offer to buy me a drink in my life.” As Steve went on he began to rub his hand along the chair's armrest, mindlessly drawing patterns into its surface with his long fingers.

“It’s funny, at 25 I didn’t think I had anything new to discover about myself, at least nothing big, but after that rather eye-opening evening I had to, like you said, reevaluate some things about myself. It wasn’t a huge shock I guess. Like, I had found guys attractive before—friends, celebrities, whatever, I just thought everyone felt that way.”

“Ah, the bisexual’s fallacy. Sure I think about other dudes sometimes, but only the normal amount.” Eddie said.

“How was I supposed to know it wasn’t!”

Eddie stopped tattooing as they held each other's gaze, both managing to keep a straight face for only a second before simultaneously dissolving into hysterical laughter.

Figuring it was as good a time as any to take a short break, Eddie stripped his gloves off and slid across the room on his stool to a small mini-fridge he kept tucked under his desk, stocked with water and juice—something he always kept on hand in case a client got lightheaded.

As they sipped their drinks and both took an opportunity to stretch, Eddie decided it was finally time to put his foot in his mouth.

“So, how are you enjoying things on this side of the field? Someone as pretty as you, I'm sure you get asked out a lot.”

“No, uh, I don't know. I- I haven't really been out on any dates with guys.” Steve stuttered out nervously. “Kissed a few, but that’s all.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Eddie said. He meant it too. Not only was Steve something special to look at, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. He deserved to be taken out and shown a good time. Maybe he was shy.

Steve laid back in the chair, puffing his chest out as he got back into position while Eddie slipped a new pair of gloves on.

“Why, you offering to show me the ropes?” Steve asked, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

Eddie’s mouth went dry.

Okay, not that shy then. Surely it was just fun friendly flirting though, right?

“Don’t tempt me.” Eddie teased back. Two could play this game.

“Why not?”

“First rule of the trade, or at least the Munson doctrine, no dating the clients.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Steve said, and without even looking up Eddie could hear the smile in his voice, a hint of–challenge accepted–in his tone.

The next hour flew by as they continued to chat, both remarking on the differences between small town life and city life, as well as lamenting how expensive it was, and how neither of them thought they’d still be living with roommates in their mid-to-late-20's.

For a while Eddie waxed poetic about Chrissy, who of course filled the roles of bestie, roommate, and business partner, which tickled Steve to no end.

He told the other man how they’d met, apprenticing at the same tattoo parlor at around the same time. and wound up bonding for life almost immediately. They were total opposites on the surface but deep down they were remarkably similar. Eddie didn’t go into too much detail, as it wasn’t his story to tell, but alluded to the fact that he and Chrissy had the shared experience of being born to shitty parents, only to be raised by another family member. A grandmother in Chrissy’s case.

It meant that they understood each other more than most, and yeah, being around one another 24/7 also meant they got on each other’s nerves a lot, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

At some point Steve’s cell phone began to ring from where it was shoved in his front pocket. He apologized profusely for forgetting to switch it on silent before they’d gotten started, but Eddie assured him it wasn’t a big deal.

Or—it wouldn't have been, except either it was some kind of emergency, or someone who was intent on reaching Steve immediately, and continued trying to call three more times.

“We can take a break if you need to get that.” Eddie offered.

Truth be told he could use a little breather himself. All this time of being essentially face down in Steve’s incredible chest was getting to him a little bit, not to mention the way his forearm lightly brushed along Steve's stomach whenever he braced himself across the man’s body. The feel of their bare skin touching was almost too much, and more than once Eddie felt himself breaking out in goosebumps.

“Yeah, I think we’d better. It’s gotta be my little brother and knowing him he won’t stop calling until I answer.”

Eddie busied himself removing his gloves and taking a long drink from his water bottle while he flipped through a few drawings on his side table, trying to look like he wasn’t hearing every word of Steve's side of the conversation.

“Hey buddy, I'm a little busy right now. What’s going on?”

Steve paused, listening attentively to the voice on the other end of the call.

“Dustin, he’s not abandoning you. Just because he wants–”

Sighing as he was abruptly interrupted, Steve somehow made the huff of breath sound both annoyed and fond.

“Well, did he actually say he didn’t want to play D&D with you anymore?”

Eddie’s head snapped up of its own volition. Did the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen in real life just say D&D?

“That’s what I thought.” Steve said with a satisfied tone. “It's gonna be fine. I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? Tell your mom I said hi.”

“Sorry about that.” Steve said, addressing Eddie this time, rolling his eyes as he ended the call. “Teenagers.”

“Pretty cool little brother if he plays Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Oh no.” Steve groaned. “Not you too! He and all his little friends are obsessed with it.”

“I used to play all the time with a group back in high school. We still try and get together for a one-shot at the holidays when we’re all back home visiting.” Eddie paused, concentrating for a second on wiggling his fingers into yet another set of gloves. There wasn’t really all that much left to do, another 20 minutes or so and he’d be done with the outline. “Was he alright, your brother?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” Steve replied as he sat back, getting into position. “We, uh, technically we’re not actually related—I'm an only child. But I used to babysit Dustin when he was younger and when he grew up I just sorta stuck around. It’s only him and his mom at home and I guess I thought… I dunno, like, maybe I could help? I drove him to his first school dance, taught him how to do his hair, shave, that kinda stuff.”

“That's… that’s really sweet, man. I’m sure he appreciates having you around.”

With every new thing he learned about Steve, Eddie felt like he was in deeper and deeper trouble. He’d been having a tough enough time keeping it together with simply lusting over a hot body, but now Steve was turning out to be this sweetheart of a guy and, client or not, Eddie thought he might just be worth breaking all the rules for.

“He’s worried his friend group is falling apart because one of the guys is going out for the basketball team. He’s afraid if Lucas gets in good with the jocks he won’t want to play with them anymore.”

“As a former outcast and enemy to jocks everywhere, I can understand his concern.”

“Are you saying we wouldn't have been friends in high school then?”

“Steve, Stevie, please. Please don’t tell me…” Eddie trailed off, stopping what he was doing and gasping for dramatic effect–hand over his heart. “Oh god, you were captain of the sportsball team weren’t you?”

Steve giggled, his beautiful eyes sparkling with it. “Basketball, to be exact. I was the co-captain of the swim team too.”

“I knew it would never work between us.” Eddie tutted, shaking his head as he got back to tattooing. “Are you reformed, at least?”

“Once a jock, always a jock, I'm afraid. I’m a personal trainer now.”

It explained a lot, and the perks—pun absolutely intended—of Steve's day job were undeniable, but as hot as the mental image of him pumping iron was, the idea of Steve palling around with toxic gym bros all day was almost enough to have Eddie second guessing everything.

“Don’t worry though, I don’t like gym bros any more than the next guy.” Steve said conspiratorially. “My clients are mainly older women looking to maintain their strength and mobility as they age.”

Aaaaand Eddie stood corrected. “Lucky ladies.”

Jesus Christ, could this guy get any more perfect?

Steve shifted in his seat, starting to get antsy after keeeping still for so long.

“Just a few more minutes, almost done.” Eddie murmured, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated on a spot near the curve of Steve’s collarbone.

“Do you do a lot of these? Cover-ups I mean?” Steve asked. “My roommate is the one who actually suggested it. For some reason I just never thought about it as an option.”

“I don’t know if i’d say a lot, but a fair few, yeah.”

“You, um. You can ask about it… If you want.”

Eddie glanced up in surprise. He would never have brought it up without being prompted, it just didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t deny he was curious, and if Steve was okay with it then–

“Okay, I'll bite. Who’s Nancy?”

“My fiance’. Well, ex-fiance’ now. We broke things off a little over a year ago.”

“That’s rough, I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay. Honestly, It’s… I should have probably seen it coming? We were high school sweethearts—got together before we really knew who we were on our own. But I was dumb and in love. I got the tattoo and proposed. I was so happy that day, but looking back it was so obvious that she’d only said yes out of pity or guilt, not because she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.”

The part of Eddie that believed in true love—and all that cheesy shit—was sad that a couple who had been together for so long, who had essentially grown up together, hadn’t been able to make it work. Selfishly though, a small piece of him was happy to learn that they’d been broken up for quite some time, lessening the chance that, if he did somehow gather the courage to ask Steve out when the tattoo was done, he wouldn’t be on the rebound.

“It was tough. I felt like a failure for a long time, like I was having to start my whole life over from scratch when I'd thought for so long that she was it for me, but it's actually been… good. We weren’t right for eachother, I can see that now. As much as it hurt, I'm grateful she had the courage to break things off when she did.”

“I’m glad you’ve been able to come to peace with it.”

“Getting this tattoo feels like the final step into letting that life go, y’know?”

Eddie nodded. Steve’s demeanor before they got started made so much sense now.

“Is there some significance to the design?” He asked, making his final line and setting the machine down. He wiped at the excess ink on Steve's skin, raising his head just in time to see the way the other man’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, Robin. She–she’s everything to me. Like a best friend, but more somehow. I don’t think I really knew what unconditional love was before her. She’s like, another piece of my soul or something. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

Eddie froze.

The tattoo design was a bird—a robin.

A robin.

For, Robin.

How could he have been so stupid!

Of course, Steve was getting one girl’s name covered up with something to represent the new one.

Jesus Christ, they were both idiots.

Eddie for getting his hopes up, and Steve for making the same mistake—twice. At least this time it was a symbol and not a name, so if he and the latest potential Mrs. Harrington didn’t work out, at least he wouldn't have to worry about covering it up.

“Everything alright?” Steve asked.

The question spurred Eddie back into action. He spread the foam soap over Steve’s chest continuing to clean the finished tattoo while his heart crawled up into his throat.

“Yup. All good.” Eddie forced the words out.

That's what Steve must have meant about not going on dates, he already had someone at home. Why hadn’t he just said that before though? And why had he flirted with him?

Maybe he’d felt funny at first about admitting to being with a woman after all the talk about being bisexual. Not that Eddie would have judged, but he knew a lot of people did—bi erasure was so real. He understood that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less that Steve had, inadvertently or not, lead him on.

Eddie gently patted the newly cleaned skin dry with a paper towel and carefully applied a square of Saniderm over the area, smoothing it out as he gave Steve his usual spiel, albeit a little robotically, about how to care for the tattoo over the coming days and weeks.

He quickly turned his back when he was done, telling Steve he could get dressed, and feeling stupid as all hell for being this upset about a guy he barely knew. He’d felt something though, potential—a spark. It was more than he’d felt for anyone in a long time.

Steve got quiet, looking a little confused with the sudden 180° Eddie’s mood had pulled. He felt a little bad about that as he brought the guy back out to the counter, but it wasn’t as though he’d suddenly become unprofessional. He was just… no longer being overly friendly.

After confirming the date for his second session, Steve paid his balance and Eddie walked him to the door.

“Have a good night, Steve. Call the shop if you have any concerns or questions about aftercare.”

Steve bit his lip. “Oh, I… okay. See you in six weeks then.”

Eddie forced a smile, waiting until Steve was out of sight around the corner to lock up, and slunk back to his studio to disinfect it so he could finally go home and sulk.

Chapter 2

All my thanks to @penny00dreadful for all of your wonderful beta work, and cheerleading, and support, and just generally being THE BEST 💜

#steddie fanfic #stranger things reverse big bang #steddie #tattoo artist eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #tattoo artist chrissy cunningham

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ink-fireplace-coffee · 2 years

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Clay River Manor

Warning: long post ahead!

@rose-bookblood kindly gave me the opportunity to gush about this amazing house from my wip: Is The Blood Thicker? and I will!

You know damn well I will!

Because of potential spoilers, I cannot give you a detailed description of how the House would look like and "behave" depending on which candidate is the heir/ess; but I can explain you more in deep how Clay River works and some fun facts of the old Heir/ess

I think the first thing to take into account, is that the best thing to compare Clay River Manor to, is Casita from Encanto. So, picture Casita but make it a mansion.

And now erase that from your mind, and just keep the basics.

Unlike the other magical house, Clay River does not "have a conscience". It's a house, not a person. It does not have personality, or can talk to you or "help you". Sad as it is, Clay River is not alive.

With that out of the way, I can now explain what is exactly the House. Clay River was enchanted when Lawson Da Ville first having it constructed. He wanted the House to be able to answer to the Heir/ess, to protect them and their family should the time come, and he wanted the Heir to feel like Clay River was not only a house, but another part of them.

That is why, Clay Rirver "adopts the personality" of the Heir/ess. Because it is like it's a part from them. Not in the way that "oh the Heir/ess can idk open the windows and maybe turn the stairs into slides at will!" The Heir/ess cannot control the House. it doesn't work that way.

But if the Heir/ess wants someone to listen to them, the House will make it happen. If they feels cold, the House will turn the heat on. If the Heir/ess is sick, the House is not sick but maybe a chicken soup starts cooking.

The rooms and floor plan also change slightly. Not the bedrooms or the common rooms like the dining room or the parlor or the kitches (although the decorations and furniture sure can); but everything else.

When Margaret was alive, for example, even though she was not the Heiress, Crawford was, and he loved her so much and she loved music. So Clay River had a music room done.

Crawford himself loves preserving archives and reading and having antiques, so the library is currently the biggest room of the House. His office is filled with nautical decor in memory of his parents.

So for example, imagine you were Heir/ess of the Da Ville's. First of all, congrats! You guaranteed a good life for your family for another 50 to 60 years if everything goes well :)

The master bedroom would change according to your personal taste, and so would the office. If, for example reading is not as important for you, the library would resize itself accordingly or even disappear, and would be replaced by whatever else you feel fitting (from drawing rooms to an indoor pool, a home cinema or an at home gym with a rock climbing wall and everything!)

The decor would also change. Not the parquet floor, but the rugs, lightning, curtains, pictures (except the Da Ville's ones) and other knick knacks like jars or flowers.

There's only one part of the House that is "for Clay River". And that is the secret passageways. The Heir/ess have no control over them and cannot open the doors like with every other room or make them appear. The House deserves to have some secrets too, after all.

I honestly do not know what else you could be curious about, so i'm gonna leave it here and if you have questions about it, I'd be more than happy to answer them!!!

#wip:¿tls?#wip:itbt?#places: clay river manor #thanks again rose for being excited about this and asking me to elaborate!!!

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moonlatias · 2 years

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Chia, Jasmine, Nutmeg for the "get to know me" ask game!

chia ⇢ what’s an inside joke you have with someone else?

Hm, what's an inside joke that wouldn't be too difficult to explain... lol.

Sometimes when we answer the phone with each other, my husband and I answer it thusly: "Moshi moshi? KAA-BI DESU"

Inspired by this dialogue from a Kirby radio CD (this animation is the best too): https://youtu.be/jSD3vrR2HxI

Naturally this only works when we're NOT answering the phone in a populated area. Well, at least not if we don't want a lot of strange looks...

We... reference stuff a lot. xD

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

To be honest, I rarely watch movies over and over anyway... you're lucky you can get me to sit down long enough for one. My attention span is... fickle.

But! I guess I would say Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame. Specifically because I was sooooo excited to see these movies and really loved being there in theaters experiencing it for the first time. I am, indeed, a MCU fangirl (though only for phase 1--I have no real plans to continue keeping up with it going forward), and the MCU movies genuinely are what sparked my interest and liking of superheroes. Prior to that, I was extremely lukewarm on superheroes and really didn't care for the genre at all.

And while I think the last two Avengers movies were incredibly meaningful experiences to me, and I truly enjoyed them and how they wrapped up the main story (more or less), I would never watch them again because it wouldn't have the same impact. If I were to watch them again I'd just be nitpicking all the dumb plot details, thus ruining my happy memories of them. ^^;

I can reflect on that period happily, because I did genuinely have a lot of fun memories sharing the movies with my husband and my family. I don't think the MCU can be the same for me going forward (I'm not super big on multiverse stuff, especially with THAT many characters and worlds), but it still has a fond place in my heart. :)

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

I don't really feel like I do, but I think I try, at least? When I was growing up, my family never really... decorated the house all that much. My mom made efforts to, but because we were a military family, we never stayed in one place for more than 3-4 years at a time, and we weren't allowed to damage or alter things too drastically in our rentals/base housing, so... decorating was kind of temporary and minimal? So I never had a great sense of decorating, and the idea of even hammering a nail in a wall is shocking to me.

Ever since we bought our own house, though, we've been making efforts! Our whole downstairs is mostly modernist style, with various quirky pictures on the walls (so far we have a coffee picture, a giant framed picture of a chicken with a bowler hat signed by Alton Brown, and a portrait of a ghost painted by my brother-in-law).

The library has more darker colors in the furniture, and eventually I want to slap more stuff on the wall to make it feel closer to that scholarly, library type setting. (Not TOO stiff and formal, though... I do like to relax in there; it's the quietest room in the house!)

The computer lab is full of gamer/nerdy stuff. It's also sort of a mess. Eventually I want to put decals on the wall behind my computer to spice things up.

Our bedroom is... kinda trying to be boudoir in theme, though I'm not sure if the furniture quite matches that vibe. I guess the color helps me pretend it's more antique, and all the other decor in the room helps lend itself to that, lol. xD My altar lends itself to the decor somehow, and I do end up feeling more witchy whenever I do stuff there. Somehow.

I guess it was pretty magical, the way we crammed the bed from IKEA into my tiny hatchback and managed to get it home...

...

Haha, I guess I ended up rambling a lot, but... thank you for the ask! It was a lot of fun! ^^

#my asks #personal

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woodviewcottage · 2 months

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Why I went from being a minimalist to a maximalist...

Before the Farmhouse look was gaining attention, I really loved the primitive decor. My house then got full sunlight, so it didn't really seem so dark to me and I do love some vintage and antique pieces. But as the Farmhouse look started gaining traction in a big way, I just fell in love with it. It was bright, open, and looked so crisp and clean. So, I did away with all my primitive stuff, all of my antiques (including the very first tv ever made) and I decluttered everything. Went very simplistic with my decor and furniture pieces. I had pops of color with pillows and curtains -- really loved the pop of the teal-ish blue that got so big. It was very easy to keep clean. It always looked clean. It always seemed so bright.

I still loved the vintage and antiques but I only looked at and admired them. Never bought them.

After almost 20 years of living in the same house ad raising my children there on the farm, we moved. We bought another house a few miles away on the top of the mountain, back in the woods.

I tried for 2-3 years to turn this cottage into the same look. Over the past year or so, I realized that I really didn't like the fact that I had to dig out anything I needed bc I kept the countertops so minimal and clean. I started not to like my coffee table and bedside tables and countertops and walls being so bare. It started feeling stale and uncomfortable.

I hadn't realized before but I was equating a clean and minimal look to comfort. And it's really not the same at all.

Listen, I am a clean freak. Everything has a place, an angle in which it sits, has to be were it goes, cannot be crooked on the walls, cannot be dirty or dusty. I cannot go more than a day without vacuuming, no more than 3 days without mopping. I'm super weird about it. It used to dive my husband crazy wen we were first married, but he's since gotten used to it and has now crossed over to my OCD side.

Anyway, I missed my old pieces that had so much character, had their own stories, had a long life before I found them. I started looking up cottage designs bc that's what we bought and I wanted it to be true to it's personality.

What I absolutely love about the cottage core aesthetic are the colors, the different textures, wallpapers(!) -- love some wallpaper, the charm, the mixed patterns, the character, the story it shares with people. It's almost fairytale - like to me. With cottage core, you can do bright, you can do dark, you can do both. You can have each room tell its own story. You can be moody and sexy in the bedroom but bright and light in the living room. You can do golds and florals and pinks in the kitchen. You can do PINK, period! I love a light pink and my husband doesn't mind my love for pink at all. (I think since I'm home all day, he just decided to let me run with whatever if it kept me busy and made me happy.)

I love the sunlight (when it finally reaches my windows in the late morning) but I also really love keeping the house's character and surroundings in tact and complimentary to each other.

I was about to give up on this house. I prayed and prayed and prayed for us to find something else. Until one day I realized God had answered my prayers...just not in the way I asked. He gave me a renewed vision, a new inspiration for what this house could be, how we could have the added square footage and bedrooms we needed. He told me: you need to learn to love and appreciate what you have instead of wanting what you can't have.

Bc of His plans for me, we decided to build onto the house in an unconventional way. We decided to use wall mounted solariums, greenhouses, and conservatories for a new master bedroom, a "parent cave" to watch what we want on tv or read or to have gatherings or whatever, and a breakfast room on the backside of the kitchen. The cost is much less than building on. It gives the house a unique aesthetic on the exterior, as well as the interior. It adds much needed light to come into the house. And it almost doubles our square footage. A cottage home is such a lovely home to own. There's so much you can do.

And since changing from minimalist farmhouse to a cottage core aesthetic, I am once again surrounded by the vintage and antique pieces I love so much and have them all out on display -- like my three beautiful complete sets of gold lined china.

What's your aesthetic? Why do you like it? What about it gives you comfort or makes it feel like home to you?

#cottagecore #woodviewcottage #be uniquely you #be beautiful #cottagecharm #cozy cottage #farmhouse #mountains #solarium #greenhouseideas #conservatory

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Text

AN: Here’s part 2 of my nurse reader and Levi request! It recently came to my attention that I was lowkey confused, I realize that you guys were asking for part 2 to my solider Levi and princess reader but I’ve been working on this one instead😂😂 So I’ll try and get to that other one soon.

ALSO 139 SPOILERS

Part 1

Summary: Levi’s dreams are coming true

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: mentions of scarring, blood, struggling to walk, kissing, angst

_______

The first few weeks were rough, he struggled to do the most mundane tasks, his fingers shook as he gripped a pen, his breathing was labored when he climbed stairs. He hated every second of it, he knew that this was part of being injured and recovering, but still, he felt weak and exposed. He also knew that it was unlikely that he would ever be the same as he was before his accident, this didn’t bother him too much. However, the thought of you only knew him as a frail wounded soldier rubbed him the wrong way.

He used this as motivation to better his condition, with the knowledge that he would not function the same as before. He quickly found out that holding a pen in his right hand was now much too difficult, so he began practicing with his left instead. He also realized that being in a wheelchair was not for him. He hated being pushed by anyone, mainly because Gabi once lost control and sent him rolling down a busy street. So he began to use a cane or crutch, he also found out that he tired much faster using this method. But he much preferred it to the chair.

After only three months of being discharged, Onyankopon had sniffed out an affordable space to open a modest cafe. The space also had a short set of stairs that led to a one-bedroom apartment above, which originally deterred Onyankopon from investing due to Levi’s state. But Levi had insisted that he would manage, so on a gloomy Thursday afternoon, they signed the papers and bought the place. Gabi and Flaco had been ecstatic to help decorate the space, scouring antique shops and pawn shops for the best (and cheapest) pieces of furniture.

Levi had watched the pair carry in the first table, a round wooden piece fit for two along with mismatched chairs to go along with it. At first, Levi disliked the way the furniture clashed, but he soon grew to like it. As the kids slowly carried in more each week the space began to feel homier. The kitchen in the back was teeming with tins of tea, recipes that Onyankopon swore by were tacked up on bulletin boards. Each weekend Onyankopon would bring the kids back with armloads of ingredients to test out the recipes he had been gathering while Levi had been in the hospital.

Soon they had perfected a menu, with croissants that were crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside, sticky-sweet cinnamon rolls, and lemon tarts. Levi had never been a fan of sweets, but he knew that most people were, so each weekend they slaved over the stoves and made huge messes of flour and sugar. After two months the cafe was rather put together, tables and chairs of all sorts spread about the room in an inviting pattern. A chalkboard menu that was slowly expanding was sprawled out over the main counter, which was being stocked with pastries.

Onyankopon had brought in a box full of glassware that he had found on the side of the street, Levi had sneered at him as he watched him carefully wash them.

“What are you planning to do with those?” Levi asked as Onyankopon scrubbed the dust off of the glass.

“We can use them as centerpieces. Maybe we could cut some flowers from that field?” He said as he placed the glass vases and cups on the drying rack.

“I suppose,” Levi grumbled, happy that he hadn’t planned on using them as cups.

Finally, the day came when the menu was rounded enough and the furniture polished to open the shop. Levi hated to admit his nerves, but the truth was that his stomach was in knots and his heart was hammering out of his chest as he flipped the wooden sign on the door from closed to open.

Gabi had whooped and hollered, Falco had clapped ecstatically and Onyankopon popped open a bottle of champagne. Levi had given them the slightest of smiles as the group retreated behind the counter to wait for someone to wander in. Levi sat back on a stool that Falco had thrifted for behind the counter, his cane resting against his knee as he watched the door with a steady gaze.

“Can I be in charge of the pastries?” Gabi pleaded, big brown eyes wide as she clasped her hands together. Onyankopon shot a sideways look to Levi who inhaled sharply.

“As long as you don’t spit in the food.” Levi relented and Gabi leaped into the air in her excitement before jogging back into the kitchen to take stock.

“Falco you can carry food out.” Onyankopon offered and Falco nodded a gleam of determination in his golden eyes.

“I’ll run the register and Levi you can brew the tea.” Onyankopon looked pleased with himself after assigning the roles and Levi shrugged in indifference. The minutes ticked by and the door remained shut, the wide windows let the warm morning sun seep into the room, yet it carried no joy. Or at least it didn’t summon any deep feelings from within Levi. Just when Levi was about to give up and go brew himself his own tea before calling it a day, the door opened, the bell tinkling softly.

His mouth fell open when he saw you, in your plain clothes, a pair of dark dress pants and a silk dress shirt. Your purse was slung over your shoulder and in your hands was a bright bouquet of flowers. You pushed some stray strands of hair off of your face as you stepped into the cafe.

“(Y/n)! You made it!” Falco rushed around the counter and took your hand in his to lead you to the counter. You laughed warmly and allowed the young boy to drag you across the room.

“You’re the first person to come in.” Onyankopon mused softly as he stood behind the register, hands placed firmly on the counter. Your eyes widened in surprise before another warm grin passes placidly across your features.

“I am?” You asked, leaning on the counter and throwing a playful glance at Levi who was half hiding behind Onyankopon.

“It’s true.” Gabi groaned dramatically fanning her face, she had been fidgeting anxiously in the back for the past hour eager to serve guests.

“What can I get the good nurse?” Onyankopon steered the conversation back to business as usual.

“Ah, I’d love a cup of camomile and hmm maybe one of those lemon tarts.” You hummed, leaning over to examine the pastries that had been set on display in the glass containers.

“Excellent choice, that’ll be seven pounds.” Onyankopon slid the key into the keyhole in the register and the old thing sprang open, spilling some change. He chuckled as he awkwardly collected the spare change.

“Takes a gentle hand.” He explained as you smiled at him with the money in hand. Levi sighed and reached around Onyankopon to take the money as the larger man squatted down to retrieve the stubborn coins.

“Congratulations Captain, you’ve made this place your own.” You said, slipping the money into his hands, the pads of your fingertips brushing his calloused palm.

“Thank you, nurse (L/n).” He mumbled, trying in vain to fight off the butterflies swarming in his stomach.

“You’re so very welcome.” You watched as the rag-tag bunch began to hustle around the kitchen, Levi limped to the stove and began to boil the water in the kettle, Gabi was pulling on a pair of gloves before she began to inspect the pastries, looking for the best one. Falco gestured for you to follow him to that round table at the front of the store, right by the large window. You covered your mouth to hide an affectionate grin as he pulled the chair out for you. You sat and thanked him as you made yourself comfortable.

“I’ll bring your food to you miss.” He even did a bow which was when you could no longer hide your amusement.

“Falco, too much.” Onyankopon was also laughing behind the counter as the young boy scurried back to grab your pastry, which Gabi had carefully chosen just for you. Levi was now steeping the leaves in one of the mismatched sets of china that they had collected. Once the tea was steeped to perfection he set it on the tray with the pastry and Falco carefully picked it up, using both hands.

He set the steaming plates in front of you and you thanked him once more. You felt a bit awkward as the group watched with expectant eyes as you took the first bite. Your eyes lit up, it was just the perfect mixture of sweet and sour, the breading crumbling on your tongue.

You nodded and held a thumbs up which made Gabi clap her hands and squeal. Falco laughed and shook her shoulder, a giddy gleam in his eyes. Levi bit back another smile, not eager to let you pull them from his lips so easily. A few moments after you had begun to eat, the door tinkled open again, this time it was an older couple. They ordered and sat down near you, murmuring about the decor and such. As the morning wore on, more people began to wander into the shop, families and starry-eyed couples alike. You sat at your table, a small amount of paperwork from the hospital spread across the tabletop. You worked well into the afternoon, not necessarily because you needed to but because you wanted to catch Levi and check in on him.

You got your chance when the crowd ebbed and the orders slowed. The shop was once more empty and you could see the way that Levi limped between the sink and the stove. You gathered your courage and stood from your spot, leaving your purse and papers behind. Onyankopon was helping the kids in the back as they prepped for the pastries for tomorrow.

“I’ll dry if you wash.” You offered and Levi shot you a look over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’ve been taking up that table all day, let me earn my keep.” You teased, carefully stepping behind the counter and into the kitchen. He did not oppose as you sidled up beside him and began to towel dry the dishes he had already scrubbed clean. You worked like this for a few minutes in silence, the sound of dishes and sloshing of water filling the air between you.

“You seem to have healed well.” You commented as you accepted another clean plate.

“Hm.” He hummed, eyes trained on his task. You noted that he no longer wore bandages on his hand where his fingers had once been.

“How’s your knee?” You asked and he bristled a bit.

“....it’s fine.” He said after a slight pause.

“I can look at it if you’d like.” You offered and he inhaled slowly before releasing his breath in one long exhale.

“I’m fine.”

“Then let me look at your fingers, if you are doing dishes it’s likely to get infected.” You were a tad embarrassed to admit that you simply wanted to feel his skin against yours once more. But luckily Levi felt the same. He paused his work and grabbed a towel to dry his hands off before slowly extending them to you. You accepted them and ran your fingers over the callouses that decorated his palms before pulling his hand closer to your face to get a good look at the nubs where his fingers once were.

Just as you had thought, they were fully healed with puckering pink flesh from where stitches had once been.

“They look well, you should be fine, just...be mindful of how much time you spend washing the dishes.” You hummed, turning his hand over in yours to examine the back of it, old and new scars littered the expanse of his hands and up to his forearm.

“Okay.” His words were breathy and a bit choked. You snuck a glance up at his face and smiled sheepishly at him as you released his hand, which fell slowly back to his side. His cheeks were a soft pink, hints of a blush from the heat of your touch alone.

“I would suggest looking into some gloves.” You advised and he rolled his eyes.

“How am I supposed to wear gloves without my fingers?” He asked, holding his hand up as if to emphasize the loss.

“You seem to have adapted well, I’m sure you can figure something out.” You assured him with a nudge to his side before you fell back into the easy rhythm of drying the dishes.

____

You fell into a routine, stopping by when the cafe first opened to grab a cup of tea before your shift. Then you would go off to work and return later that afternoon to help Levi clean up. One rainy day you came in an hour later than usual, your scrubs soaked as you had forgotten an umbrella. Onyankopon and the kids had left earlier that week to go get the other cadets from Paradis, leaving Levi to tend to the shop alone.

As you entered you flipped the sign to closed and then wrung your sopping wet hair. Levi stood behind the counter, watching you with his one steel eye.

“What took you so long?” He asked before turning to do the dishes. You scoffed and looked back out at the window, the rain was pelting down mercilessly against the glass. But you said nothing, having learned long ago that arguing with him was pointless.

“What have you got for me?” You asked instead wanting to throw yourself into the work he had for you. He put you to work in the kitchen, taking stock and sweeping the floors until you thought that you would collapse. It wasn’t that the work that was taxing, but the work on top of the hours you had already clocked in on your feet at the hospital.

When he was pleased with your cleaning he waved you off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. Your clothes were still wet, as you watched him thumb through his earnings of the day in the register. You now knew a fraction of what he had put those cadets through all those years ago.

“Levi?” You tested, his name falling sweetly from your lips. He turned slowly, pausing his counting to give you his full attention.

“What is it?” He asked, placing the change back into the register.

“How would you like to get some dinner?” You offered with a shy smile. His eyes widened and he whipped around to shut the register.

“Only if you’re buying.”

____

So now you sat across the table from him, your leg bouncing anxiously under the table inside the warm tavern. He seemed much less anxious, hands folded in front of him and his gaze void of any particular emotion.

“So...you come here often?” You tried to start the conversation, for the first time finding it difficult.

“No actually, I despise these places.” He answered literally and you nearly blanched, worried that you may have upset him or offended him in some way by bringing him here.

“What? We don’t have to stay then we can-” You were reaching for your purse but he held up a hand to stop you.

“It’s fine.” He assured you and you relaxed back into your seat.

“Why do you hate these places?” You asked out of curiosity.

“Not a fan of drunk men and shitty tavern food.” He shrugged indifferently. If he had been feeling braver he would have told you that it reminded him of his childhood and his mean drunk uncle.

“Ah, I see.” Your shoulders slumped and you cleared your throat to fill the silence.

“I don’t usually come to bars often either. Can’t trust me around beer.” You joked but Levi arched a thin brow.

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, my dad was a drunk and they say that it runs in the family. So I’ll never touch the stuff.” You shrugged and Levi was caught off guard with your honesty. He only hummed in response. Not long after that, the food arrived and the two of you ate in near silence, the sounds of forks scraping plates and wine sloshing in glasses. You paid for dinner and the two of you slowly made your way back down the street, which was slick with rainwater. You eyed Levi’s arm a bit longingly, wanting to feel his warmth pressed against you. You rubbed your biceps in an attempt to get the message across but he seemed clueless still. So you sighed and decided to take yet another risk, in one swift motion you slid your arm through his and he went rigid. His steps faltered and you looked over at him with a smirk curling at the corner of your lips.

“Is...this alright?” you asked and he nodded tensely before resuming his pace. You were grateful that his apartment was so close to the tavern, as it began to pour once more. But of course, you could not run because you feared that he would injure himself, so the two of you simply picked up your pace. Levi held the door for you and the two of you stumbled into the dark cafe, the tables and chairs looked almost like skeletons as you weaved your way through them to the back set of stairs.

“You can stay if you’d like.” he offered, a glimmer of uncertainty flashing over his features, clearly he was treading just as lightly as you were.

“I’d like that very much.” You grinned and the two of you climbed the stairs to his small apartment. The floorplan was open, the kitchen and living room were all in one space. The furniture was also mismatched here, he set about lighting candles even though you knew that the building had electricity. You wondered if it was a force of habit, all of his years on that island with no electricity, or if it was an attempt to set the mood. You said nothing all the same as the candles set the room aglow in warm light.

“It’s nice,” you commented and Levi hummed in agreement.

“It’s no barracks.” He said as he shook the match, a small trail of smoke curling up from his fingertips.

“Do you miss the military?” You asked as you slipped out of your shoes. He paused, a thoughtful look passing over his face as he pondered your question.

“At times, there are things that I miss. But no, I wouldn’t go back.” he shook his head, damp locks of raven hair falling in curtains over his brow.

“I can imagine.” You agreed as he slipped out of his coat and hung it on the coat rack, you did the same and he gestured for you to follow him to his room.

“I have some dry clothes you can borrow.” He said as he sifted through his drawers, pulling out a simple cotton shirt and a pair of loose-fitting pants. He held them out to you and you accepted them with a smile. You noted that the clothes were larger than the ones that he pulled out and you wondered who they belonged to.

“Whose clothes are these?” you asked out of curiosity and a pained look crossed his face. But you wondered if you had imagined it because of how quickly his features reset into his stoic mien.

“An old friend.” That was all he said before leaving you to change. You pulled the clothes on slowly and carefully knowing that these are likely one of the last things he had that belonged to his friend. Once you were done you stepped out of the room to find Levi already changed and boiling a kettle over his small stove. The shirt hung loosely off of your frame and you pulled the collar up gently as you crossed the room to stand by his side.

“Whatcha making?” You asked softly as he shot you a brief glance over his shoulder.

“Tea.” He said bluntly as he reached up into the cabinets and pulled out two mugs. You hummed and moved to take a seat at the modest table that was pressed against the back of his couch.

“Sounds good.” You said as you slipped into the seat, watching as he moved around his space. You noted the way his cane carried the majority of his weight, the way his fingers trembled as he poured the water to steep the tea leaves. You moved to get up and help him, but decided against it, reminding yourself that he was independent and could do these tasks on his own. Sure enough Levi finished the tea and carried the two cups over to you and placed them gently down on the table.

You thanked him quietly and blew a puff of air over the surface of the green tea, sending ripples through the liquid. He watched you with unreadable features, hands crossed on the table and his cane resting against his thigh.

“Tell me of your home.” You asked, daring a look over the rim of your cup. He inhaled and a far away look crossed his face as he thought of an appropriate response.

“As I knew it or as it is now?” He mumbled as he brought his own cup to his lips.

“Whichever you prefer.”

“Hm.” He hummed as he let the hot liquid sit in his mouth hoping to buy himself more time.

“Either way it was shitty.” He said after a few moments of silence. You set your cup down and gave him your full attention.

“We never had much, and I can’t say that it was a happy life.” He said, sneaking a glance at you to guage your reaction.

“I figured as much.” You commented and he shrugged.

“There isn’t much left of the landscape after the rumbling, but that’s everywhere now.” He grumbled, beginning to lose himself in his own memories.

“There used to be open fields and massive trees inside of the walls but…” He winced, flashes of blood and gnashing titan teeth, campfires, the heavy breathing of horses, explosions of thunder spears followed by the tangy metallic scent of blood.

“Levi?” Your voice was soft and filled with concern, he snapped out of his reverie, his fists clenched around his cup.

“Sorry.” He choked out, his tongue feeling fat and his mouth dry.

“It’s alright, I shouldn’t have asked.” You waved your hands and quickly took a sip of your tea.

“No, it’s not your fault.” He dismissed you, trying to calm the racing of his heart.

“I’m sure that you’re tired, I’ll see myself out.” You began to scramble, reaching for your things and pushing a stray strand of hair from your face. Levi wasn’t sure why, but he felt an urgent need to reach out and grab you. Before he could dismiss the sense, his hand had already shot out and caught your wrist.

You looked back at him with wide eyes, not moving a muscle. He stayed still as well, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your arm. If he was hurting you, you showed no sign.

“Don’t….it’s storming.” He said stupidly, as he stood keeping a hold on your wrist. Once he was on his feet he took a step towards you and his hand slipped down to intertwine his fingers with your own.

“O-Okay.” You squeezed his fingers and he returned the gesture, eyes blank although they darted between your eyes and lips every few seconds. You took a step closer so that the tips of your feet touched his, your breaths mingling together. Finally his eyes settled on your lips and you unconsciously licked them as you wondered what he would taste like. Green tea no doubt, just as bitter and tangy as his personality seemed to be.

You let out a shaky breath as he reached out, the back of his hand brushing that pesky piece of hair off of your cheek. He hesitated but gently grasped your face in his calloused palm, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You carefully broke free of his grasp on your hand so you could smooth down the fabric of his shirt above his heart.

He swallowed thickly before lifting his chin, eyes trained on your lips. You tilted your head and met him the rest of the way, your lips slotting together perfectly. His other hand came to rest on the other side of your face, and you whimpered. You opened your mouth wider, your tongue slipping past his lips to taste him. He did taste like green tea after all, bitter and overwhelming. You couldn’t get enough, your hands slipping up the column of his throat to find the shaven underside of his hair.

To your surprise he pulled away with a grunt, grey eyes wide and surprised. You looked back just as shocked but then you smiled. He blinked at you for a moment before pulling away completely and turning his back to you and running a hand through his locks.

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me.” He apologized and you shook your head.

“I actually quite liked it. You aren’t my patient anymore Levi.” He remained silent, his back turned to you in shame.

“You’re not even a Captian anymore, you’re just a man.” You assured him and he turned to look at you now, eyes filled with a certain grief you couldn’t quite place.

“Is that how you see me then?” His voice was flat and you couldn’t tell if he was offended or pleased with the response.

“No, I see you as a good man, who has been hurt one too many times. Someone who needs a….companion.” You settled and he finally faced you once more.

“I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He grunted, steadying himself on the table.

“It’s okay Levi, I-I like you.” You felt like you were tripping over yourself to assure him that he was not crossing any lines.

“....” He remained silent, those sad grey eyes trained on your face as your chest heaved, panic quickly raising.

“I promise you I’m fine. I’ve actually been wanting to kiss you for some time now.” You sheepishly admitted, rubbing the side of your arm.

“I know.” He groaned his hands coming to hide his eyes and you felt even more distressed, you should’ve known better.

“Look, Levi I want to be with you, and if you want the same then we can be. You don’t have to-”

“Damn it (Y/n) I want to, but I don’t” He let out another frustrated grunt before his fist came down hard on the table, the cups rattling loudly at the disturbance.

“I don’t want you to be chained to someone like me.” He admitted, eyes averted.

“You don’t have to feel that way, I’m choosing you.”

“Promise?” His eyes finally met yours and you nodded curtly, a look of determination and confidence plastered to your face.

“Promise.” You assured him, sitting back down at the table to show that you weren’t going anywhere.

“And if you bother me too much then I’ll leave.” You teased, but he seemed to take it literally, sinking back into his own seat and nodding in understanding.

“That’s good.” He sighed, shoulders sagging in relief.

“I really should go home, think about this and we’ll talk tomorrow.” You stood, leaning over the table to peck a kiss to his lips. He nodded and watched with tired eyes as you left his apartment.

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poptod · 3 years

Note

Please may I request something for our boy Safin? What if the reader is a thief that comes comes to steal from a hotel room or something similar and whilst they are there Safin comes back making the reader hide in a wardrobe. They overhear something they shouldn’t and realise they picked the wrong room. At the same time Safin finds them hiding there and now can’t let them go as the reader knows too much. But he’s also curious why they were there in the first place.

I absolutely love everything you write so feel free to change anything you like :)

I also have a request for ahkmenrah but don’t want to be greedy!

notes: this request sounds fun as hell my man, feel free to send that ahk request! i know this ones pretty short so im sorry about that but i could do a part two if youd like.

It wasn't a big secret that it was way easier to get into hotels than it should've been. If you dressed like a worker and acted like you belonged, you could sneak in behind the front desk and take one of the keys without anyone stopping you, and that's just what you did. Or, are doing.

You'd never tried to steal from such a fancy hotel, but the principle was about the same––you just needed to be more polite to any patrons and actually comb your hair for once. Besides, any risk was minimal in comparison to what you could gain from rich travellers. Your room was one you guaranteed on your scouting mission to be occupied, and after ensuring the person was out of their room, you fiddled with the golden keys and unlocked their ornate door.

Clothes and various belongings––most of them dark––stood out amongst the white walls and furniture, which only heightened the mess that already covered the whole of the room. You frowned.

I thought rich people would be a little less messy, you thought as you tip-toed into the room.

Despite the mess, the man paying for the room did leave around plenty that was worth something. There were even items that belonged to the hotel, like small pieces of art or antique cups, all of which could be sold for a high value. Watches, pieces of jewelry, loose cash, a bag of gemstones, and some very old books were also in the room, hidden in drawers and amongst the trash on the counters and tables.

All of it together was enough to convince you the man you were robbing from was in a little bit of trouble. More than a little bit––more trouble than you were in, and that was already a fair amount. The presence of guns beneath the bed only solidified that in your mind, and your heart raced as you entered the bathroom.

This was bad.

Had you really checked that everyone in the room was gone? Was it possible someone entered after you did, already cognizant of your plans? Was someone already watching you?

Behind you?

You whirled around, reaching for your knife, only to find empty space before you. A ragged breath left you, and you returned to working.

The soaps already used in the bath filled the room with their scent, absorbed into fluffy, white towels and a lace shower curtain. A thick, silver bracelet embedded with massive sapphires lay on the marble counter, bringing a smile to your face as you stuffed it into your bag.

A door opened. The lock, followed by the handle, clicked open before swinging shut. Your heartbeat stopped entirely along with your breath, wide eyes flickering to every object in the bathroom.

No luck––the closest place you could hide was beneath the sink, and that was barely a hiding place. The bedroom beside you, however, had a large, white closet taller than you.

You barely had the time to smile before you were slipping into the closet, curling up in the corner as you closed the door.

Footsteps began to sound louder and louder, and eventually you covered your mouth and nose to avoid breathing, convinced the person would feel your heartbeat thrumming through the floor. He was talking, perhaps to himself or to someone on the phone––the frequent pauses insinuated the latter.

"I don't care about the cost," he said, and the closet door opened, letting light pour in.

Your eyes practically fell out of your head, your head aching from the tension in your jaw and brow. But he opened the door on the other side, and he grabbed the first coat he saw, completely missing your black form shaking in the corner.

"If you have to go to the islands to get them yourself, then you'll do it," the man spat. "I can give you guns for the locals, they won't like you being there."

A pause.

"Do I sound like I care if you get hurt?"

Another pause.

"Then I'll get another man to replace you. Of course... I can't have you spreading any rumors."

You could just barely hear the phone utter a weak, 'what?'.

The phone beeped, falling silent until you heard the ringing of another call.

"2156 7th Avenue, building A, apartment 113," he said before immediately hanging up.

He tossed something onto the bed––you assumed his phone––and cursed quietly, walking till his shoes were clacking against the marble floor of the bathroom. There he paused for a moment, falling silent, then turning slowly and reentering the bedroom. You held your breath again.

The sheets of the bed shuffled roughly, followed by what sounded like curtains clinking against the curtain rods. A sense of dread fell over you as your eyes and nose stung with unshed tears. He was looking for you.

You'd never come close to being caught before.

The closet door creaked open, shedding light upon your skin.

His voice slipped into you, under your skin like a worm, the rough, gravelly sound grinding against your ears.

"There you are."

#safin x reader #rami malek #nttd

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sassooda · 2 years

Text

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 70 - Blood Shaman 🔞

w/c - 7,515

Gojo lowers down to lift a box from the floor just so he can teleport it to the other end of the building. “How do we have so much shit after all the moves we’ve been through?”, he wonders out loud while scratching his head. Satoru leans his bare, lightly sweating back against the wall, facing what will soon be the master bedroom while trying to picture everyone living together. He can imagine the large, luxurious bed, the canopy design and even Toji sprawled out taking up the most room on it. When his bright eyes flash over to the space that’s to be their bathroom, he can envision Naoya carrying Elska into it and locking the door in Choso’s face so he could bathe with her in peace.

Suguru quietly walks through the dark green hall but happens to approach the bedroom in time to hear Gojo chuckling to himself while tucking his hands into his black sweatpants. This is still so strange to Getou and he can’t help but think that while he sets down the furniture that was floating from his gravity manipulation. He has lived his adult years to destroy the blue-eyed man before him, the one that has caused his clan so much suffering. ‘I did many horrible things trying to exact my revenge…’, the possibility of it all being for nothing beginning to devour his pride. When Satoru turns to him, Suguru notices how happy he seems, though that dark aura of his feels like a ghost with ill intent.

Gojo stands on his toes, to peer at what the Titer was bringing, “The dressers can definitely go over there.”, he happily directs to a far wall. He watches Suguru take a few steps into the room and then out of the way while guiding the solid wood antiques to their place. As the Titer is shifting the pieces to finely tune their layout, Satoru can’t help but ask, “Why don’t I want to kill you anymore?”. He’s noticed that even Naoya, who hates the Titer, resorted to physical strength versus energy when fighting Suguru too.

Suguru is slow to turn around but its not out of anxiety as much as its due to his own confusion. They stare at each other as the wind shakes the trees outside the windows, a storm must be coming. After a strange calm circulates through him Getou lifts his hands into the air with a shoulder shrug, “I’ve been wondering the same thing because I don’t really feel the desire to either.”.

Gojo only mildly expected that since his own insecurities often make the assumptions that he’s alone in his feelings towards others. Smiling and sauntering over to Getou, Satoru ponders on how he’s always surprised by the people he should understand the best and mumbles, “It doesn’t make sense…What you did to her…”, Gojo starts but casually, “That almost had some very serious consequences.”. Gojo stops a few feet from the Titer, reliving the agony of discovering her mangled wing. “I wanted to wipe out everyone…women, children, the old, every single person that had association with you.”.

Suguru isn’t sure why this heavy conversation is being hashed out now but he also knows that he can’t escape it, nor should he try. With layers of guilt confining his heart, Getou folds his arms and morosely states, “I know…”.

Gojo looks over the Titer’s build, examining him closer than when they were with Elska. Suguru’s golden robes are out of place, loosened from the manual labor. “Hmmm…”, Satoru chalks to himself, once again approaching Suguru with an odd glint in his eyes.

“Wh- what?”, Getou awkwardly asks, slowly becoming uncomfortable with Gojo’s mannerisms. He catches the silver shaman staring at the parts of his chest that are exposed under the robes and closes it tightly. “What the hell are you looking at me like that for?!”. He dances his vision around, searching for anything that would break this weirdness but his eyes dart back when Gojo speaks.

“I’m sizing you up, pretty boy.”, offers Gojo as if he’s not invading personal space. Suguru steps backwards, bumping into a dresser which causes Satoru to giggle maniacally. “Don’t run away from me” he teases, “I won’t hurt you. There’s something I want to test out…”. He is still blown away by what his brain picked up from Elska’s flavor, not having known that they were all capable of tasting emotions, thought and intent. She’s mentioned things about it before but he never understood.

Getou wasn’t prepared for Gojo’s antics. Before he knows it, the silver shaman is grabbing his jaw and forcing his head to the side in order to access his neck. When Satoru’s fangs pierce him, he’s sent into a defensive panic on the inside. His body heats up and melts as if it were Elska drinking. “Why does it…”, he pants out with forcibly shut eyes, moaning into a yell, “…stop…stop it…STOP IT!”.

Gojo wipes his mouth as he teleports away from the swinging Titer whose expression is flushed with watering eyes. He wonders, ‘So it felt good, huh?’. A wicked smirk splits his lips as he comprehends Getou’s heaving, bringing him to the question as he glances at the Titer’s covered manhood, “Did you just get hard for me, golden boy?”.

Suguru grimaces for a second, insulted, but his frantic eyes drop down to find the he actually did. “YOU!”, he screams while pointing a shaking finger at the sadistic Satoru, “WHY WOULD YOU-…I DIDN’T LIKE-…”, he becomes further irritated when Gojo laughs. “THIS ISN’T FUNNY! WHAT THE FUCK!”.

“You should see your face right now…”, Satoru’s words showing his amusement. ‘So that’s what that spice was…’, he tells himself as he recalled the hint of that seasoning within Elska earlier. He reaches out to close Suguru’s wound, snickering at how jumpy the Titer has become and it makes Gojo smile wider as he’s reminded of Naoya.

Getou reties his robes even tighter, not trusting Gojo’s intentions, “Maybe I do want to kill you after all.”, grunting to his discomfort. His mood has soured after the weird sensations are left tingling his nerve endings from Gojo’s bite and grumpily turns away, “At least Toji warned me…but his didn’t feel like that.”.

Satoru slaps Getou’s shoulder, “Lighten up! Naoya’s drank from me before, it’s not weird! I actually can’t wait to taste him.”. Gojo brings his fingers to bounce the tips together, wishing to know the Zenin’s flavor. ‘I bet little Naoya is delicious…’.

Suguru’s features automatically scrunch, his mind running wild with images of Gojo and Naoya rolling around, play biting, even pillow fighting. He shakes the dandy scenarios out of his head but shivers. “What kind of relationship is this??”, he dramatically widens his eyes while asking the floor. ‘Elska…what would she say if she knew about this?!’.

“Speaking of which…”, Gojo actually tones down his playfulness, “I really like Naoya, I would fight and kill for him.”. He observes the Titer retracting his stiffness, understanding that the direction of their conversation is getting serious again. “I don’t know what to make of you Getou, or of what happened in that bed, but Naoya,”, he darts his eyes to meet the Titer’s, “I don’t know if he can forgive you and that may affect this. He’s my guy.”.

Suguru sighs and sits down on the dresser defeatedly, internally retching with shame over how his past deeds still loom over him today. He’s now under the impression that her turned fool around with each other, something he’s not welcoming but he clears his thoughts to progress with something more important. “I changed well before the DNA synthesis”, he retorts apologetically, “but I understand why Zenin hates me.”. Getou dwells in his wrong doings for a moment, now finding that he doesn’t want to even meet Satoru’s gaze. “Shit, I even hate me…”. He’s threated Naoya with Elska’s life, her wellbeing. He’s once planned to kill them both. Getou’s even gone as far as to viciously attack her on a few occasions and can still feel the way the knife felt in his grip as he plunged it through her shoulders. He clenches his fist in a cold second of reality and utters, “I’m…I’m not a good man.”.

Gojo felt that statement and surmises that they may indeed be far more alike that he’s ready to admit. “I’m not either.”, he cheerfully adds, trying to pick up the atmosphere, “I’ve done a lot of bad things too, even to her…”, Satoru takes a deep breath, “…far before any of you came into the picture.”. The room falls quiet again, but Gojo admits, “There was a time where I was going to skin little Naoya alive.”, he sees the interest spark in the Titer’s eyes so he continues, “Toji too.”, shrugging his shoulders.

Getou seethes, “Zenin has always acted so funny in regards to Elska. It irritated me so much! Believe it or not, I used to like him as well, but I didn’t understand his betrayal for a long time.”. Suguru reminisces over Choso and Toji having left his side which made them all enemies too. Now he gets it though, completely. There’s something incredible about Elska that brings even the most jagged puzzle pieces to a fit.

“HA!”, Gojo hoots to the Naoya bashing, “That Zenin right there though, let me be frank, is the reason we’re sitting right here today.”. He points to the cojoining dressers they’re on and leans his long back into the wall to emphasize. “You should appreciate him more. He saved all of you.”.

“How so?”, Suguru inquisitively asks as he truly is curious about that statement. ‘What did Naoya of all people do?’, mocking in his mind. ‘Is this a joke?’.

Gojo deactivates his infinity and shimmies his shoulders so the wall could scratch an itch but resumes his verbal momentum. He begins explaining about what Naoya did while he was still sealed, how he took Elska right in front of him. “I was fucking livid at first but after watching for a bit, I realized it was the hottest fucking thing ever.”. The questions are visibly firing off in the Titer’s mind so Satoru asks, “Did you not know about that? Wasn’t that a part of your plans?”.

Suguru ducks his chin towards his chest, looking down and cackling deeply in disbelief. “So you mean to tell me that this happened at my base?”. Getou’s tone is revealing his annoyance as he remembers the conversation that he and Choso had after Naoya woke up immediately following this incident. “So that’s why he failed his mission that day…”, the rancorous realization of the Zenin having been that immersed into her as early as then stifling him. “That was not the plan at all. I should have fucking known better, he tried too hard to make it seems as if he was barely into her.”, Suguru scoffs, “He was to secure her and gain her trust, not fuck her in front of the prisoner.”. As soon as the words left his mouth, Getou feared that he said too much as the content was rather distasteful. “I uhh…”, he stammers, “I am sorry. I’m not used to talking to you about this stuff.”.

Gojo listens openly, not enjoying everything he’s hearing but not gearing up to fight either. “You’re fine.” He grunts, “Well like I said, had he not done what he did, I would’ve slaughtered you all eventually.”. He crosses his legs and stretches his arms, “I was REALLY territorial before, I didn’t even want other men knowing she existed.”. Satoru smiles, “Why would I? Clearly my concerns have been validated too…nearly everyone wants a piece of my love…”.

“You say that with angst but you seem to be fine with it.”, Getou probes for a clearer understanding. “I never wanted to share her, I actually found it really alarming that you, Toji and Naoya did. It was like, who does that?”.

Gojo huffs and rolls his eyes, “Well you got to experience why first hand.”, he smirks, “She’s fucking beautiful when she’s vulnerable. How can you not want to overwhelm her?”. He listens to the Titer shift around as if that made him uncomfortable but he back tracks to reiterate, “You need to compromise with Naoya. You’ve put us through a lot and I hate to sound so sensible but he honestly has every right to feels as he does. It’s how I should feel too.”.

At the end of this sentence, an unknown shaman enters their outcasted building. Suguru opens his mouth to say something but Gojo lifts his hand to motion “Wait.”. They both slowly stand and hone into the doorway but Satoru whispers, “I’m unfamiliar with this person’s energy.”. He’s worried someone else has come looking for his Elska.

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Right as Toji grew tired of sulking in the hall, he walks to his son’s door with purpose, ready to beat on it. It opens to show the pretty Titer, Amnessia with a tired expression.

“Keep it down!”, she angrily eyes him and swats him back into the hall, “He just started eating again and is resting…this is going to take some time.”.

Toji’s eyes instinctually train on the door, his heart heavy with remorse as he’s not been able to comfort his own son. Toji’s pretty fucked up about Sachiko’s death too but he doesn’t feel he has the time to show it but perhaps he’s also to afraid to. He’s already gone through this loss once before and it destroyed him. “He wasn’t eating!?”, he asks with alarm.

Amnessia sighs and puts her dainty hand on the giant’s shoulder, “He is now, that’s all that matters…”. She chews on her lip though when she is empathically flooded by the sorrows embedded in Toji. ‘Sachiko, what should I do?!’, she asks the heavens as she cannot stand to see them both so down and out.

“Has he brought me up at all?”, Toji questions with hesitant interest and depresses when she shakes her head no. “He can’t lock himself away forever! I need to see him.”.

Amnessia doesn’t even try to stop Toji as he gently pushes past her to open the door. She hears the large man flick on the light switch and sigh before it sounds like he’s sitting on the bed. She walks in quietly to the other side and brushes Megumi’s hair from his face while sweetly conveying, “Hey, your dad is here to see you…”, smiling warmly to his opening eyes.

“Hey Megs…”, Toji nudges him in the back, leaning over him with worry. “Do you want to talk about anything? I know things have been…crazy lately.”. He doesn’t know how to really handle this situation but he’s pushing that aside in order to appear strong for his son. It’s important to him to appear to have the answers so Megumi can feel less uncertain, less burdened. His head hangs low when Megumi begins crying, ‘Why wasn’t I able to protect anyone?!’, he asks himself angrily knowing that he almost lost Elska that day too. And what if Sachiko couldn’t save Megumi? What then?

“Mom…she…”, he sniffles, “She just wanted us to be happy…”. Megumi still doesn’t feel like seeing anyone but he doesn’t have the heart to force his dad away when he’s sure Toji is hurt over it too. He feels his dad’s hand rubbing his arm and it gives him a strange paternal comfort that he’s still not used to experiencing.

Toji feels himself moping and is actually glad Megumi is facing the other way. “Your mother loved you boy, more than anything.”. He’s taken back by how reactive his son is to the pretty Titer though, how her encouragement has a calming affect on him. It brings him to a whole new appreciation for Amnessia because he knows things would be much worse had she not been here to dote on Megumi. ‘They seem to click pretty well actually…’, he thinks with happiness peering into his heart. “Look at you though, you have this beautiful lady here taking care of you!”, Toji’s voice is lighter than usual. “Just like your dad!”.

Amnessia feels her face heating up and dashes her eyes to Megumi to see how that was received.

Megumi looks up to her for a second but once he’s reminded of his puffy eyes, he becomes embarrassed and tucks his face away into the pillow. He doesn’t wish for Amnessia to misunderstand his actions though so he blindly reaches out his hand to rest on hers that lays in her lap.

Toji finally breaks into a smile, having witnessed that. In a lower volume he adds, “You’re luckier than you know. Having the support of someone in this world can make or break your will to survive.”.

Amnessia hasn’t felt this welcomed or desired in a long time. She definitely still harbors feelings for Genghis but there was always something about him that seemed incredibly off, weird…or distant. That lessened once she learned his secret and they grew closer with the feedings but that part bothers her now where as it didn’t before. ‘Who is his master?’. There was always fleeting doubts that would pass behind her eyes but she decided when they met that she would choose to enjoy his company while it lasted. He’s intelligent, suave, collected and insatiable, especially for an older man. She still has her own issues to sort through in regards to that and her place amongst the Titers but leaving them all probably won’t be as hard as most would assume since she wasn’t actually born into the Titer clan. Would she miss the compound? Of course. Would she wonder about everyone she left behind? Certainly. But as she perceives Megumi’s thumb lightly brushing over her hand with one green eye softly studying her, many of her concerns dissipate.

“Hmph well how about I come back tomorrow? I’ll bring you something good to eat and we’ll all have a dinner.”, Toji now stands, feeling much better than when he entered. He taps Megumi’s leg and waits for him to look his way. When their eyes do meet, Toji nods and asks, “Is that alright?”.

Megumi wipes his eyes but nods yes with a half-smile, “Yeah dad, that’s fine with me.”. He swears that Toji’s eyes bounced back and forth between himself and Amnessia. The smirk his father wore as he turned to leave felt like his way of saying he likes the idea of them together. When the door shuts, Megumi brings his vision to the pretty Titer who brims with the strongest aura of support that he’s ever known. He catches himself staring at her so he snaps his head to the bed but says, “Sorry if that was uncomfortable for you. Also, sorry that I’m miserable to be around.”.

Amnessia flips her wrist to squeeze his hand and leans in a few inches, “You have good reason for being upset and I quite like your company.”. Part of his unruly hair is sticking up and she can’t stand to see it so she reaches to brush it down. She giggles, “I had to fix that, it was driving me crazy.”. What she doesn’t say is that it wasn’t an irritated crazy as much as it was hormonally crazy. ‘He can’t keep looking all sad with the sexy bed head…it’ll have me compelled to climb on him.’.

“Well…”, Megumi’s noticing that she’s really the only person that has been able to temporarily pause his pain. It boggles his mind, he just met her recently and by weird chance. The fact that she’s able to somehow ease his suffering tells him that she’s special and her nurturing interest in him has in turn, made him feel the same, special. “…If we’re going to address things that bug us then…”, he takes a deep breath, shocking himself with his intentions. His grip travels to her forearm where he pulls at her until she allows him to guide her to the spot in front of where he rests. She gasps but doesn’t flee, causing relief to flood him into weary confidence, “…you not laying with me was driving me crazy.”.

Amnessia feels about as relaxed as a stone statue at first, not having predicted this happening at all. She likes it though, likes being cradled against his body, being held so delicately that it almost hurt. His fingers run along her upper back causing her snuggle up to him more because of how safe she feels. She hears him say, “Thank you.”, as he reels her in closer, shifting around to find the most comfortable position. It was clear to her that he meant for her to nap with him so she curls her arm around his side and rests her head into his chest, his chin fitting over top. She whispers into his skin, “You’re welcome”, with a giddy grin.

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When Toji walks out of the main building to head in the direction of their place, he finds Choso waiting outside. “What happened?!”, Toji asks with urgency, not liking the saddened expression on the being.

Choso shakes his head, “Nothing…I just…”, he feels so bad for Toji and Megumi. Without thinking about it, he opens his arms and hugs the giant.

Toji’s initial reaction is to freak out but he ultimately doesn’t because he knows Choso shows his feelings more than talking about them. He lets the hybrid do as he pleases and even offers his thanks.

“We’re here for you.”, is all Choso says before finally letting go. He didn’t particularly like Sachiko but having that tragedy happen right after the Fushiguro’s were all reunited strikes him to the core. It reminds him of his brothers and this causes Choso’s human side to bleed internal tears. He can’t imagine exactly what Toji is going through but will do his best to be considerate of everything.

“You had me worried there for a minute.”, Toji playfully shoves Choso but his being there makes him ask, “Elska isn’t alone, is she?!”.

Choso laughs innocently, “No way! Naoya’s with her.”. When he registers that Toji approves the situation, he adds, “I came back to get you. I figured it’d be quicker if I did.”. His eyes widen when Toji’s large hand ruffles his hair as he says, “Thanks for thinking about me bud.”. He’s only ever seen Toji do that to Naoya so he immediately feels privileged and honored, causing him to excitedly retort, “Yeah! Of Course!”.

Toji chuckles to himself over Choso’s reaction but is happy to see the fondness, he’s always liked Choso. As they start walking back towards their house to be, Toji states, “I need to change first, my clothes are all roughed up. I can’t let those Zenin cunts see me looking so sorry.”. He really doesn’t want to see Gojo or Getou but he’s not childish enough to let that create unnecessary avoidance.

“I’ll change too!”, but Choso doesn’t have much to change into. He worries about this for a moment but smiles widely when he remembers his group matching pajamas. “I went to go see my brother but apparently, he’s not feeling well still…”.

“Is Itadori sick?”, Toji hasn’t heard about this at all but figures that they’re not as in the loop as they were before being separated from the immediate premises.

Choso sighs, “Well he said he is but I couldn’t sense anything like that. I scanned him with my energy! Honestly, he seemed more apprehensive than ill. He wouldn’t even look me in the eyes.”.

Toji stops mid step and turns toward the being, flashes of the forest incident scaling his mind. Particularly, he’s thinking back to Elska biting Sukuna in order to subdue Gojo. Toji grunts and closes his eyes stressfully, asking, “How long has he been acting like this?”. He already knows the answer though. When Choso confirms that it was since that day, Toji proceeds, “Did he say anything about Elska?”, as he looks back over to the main building as if to show he was contemplating on going back to find Yuuji.

Choso tilts his head slightly while trying to recall but answers, “He didn’t bring her up at all but now that you mention it, he rushed me away when I did.”. He listens to Toji stressfully sigh.

“I’m guessing that he’s not sick Choso…”, Toji ultimately decides to continue to their place to quest for clothes, “He may have been weird with you because he experienced her bite through Sukuna.”. When Choso stops walking Toji does too, but twists around curiously to gauge how the being will handle that tidbit.

“YOU DON’T THINK-…”, Choso doesn’t mean to yell but he hadn’t considered this angle, and jerks his head back towards the dorms. Images of his brother enjoying his master riddle him with unease, “THEY CAN’T!”.

Toji outstretches his arms while looking around, “Calm down!”.

Choso wide eyes the ground as he sorts over how cool Itadori is, how caring and kind. ‘Elska would love him…’, he thinks and whines as a new fear is born within.

“Hey!”, Toji snaps his fingers to get the being’s attention, “She doesn’t want the kid, stop working yourself up.”. When the being seems to continue to wander in his thoughts, not listening, Toji hollers, “HEY!”. He grabs the being by the arm and leans forward to offer in a low tone, “Do you really think I would let that goofball have my doll?”.

Choso studies Toji’s expression before accepting it, “No” he exhales shakily, “I don’t.”.

“Megs got weird for a bit too after he was bitten. I imagine its really something else when you’re not expecting it. Don’t worry about that too much, we’ll go see him tomorrow.”, strides once again carrying them towards their residence. He notices that although Choso has dropped the subject, its clearly occupying him still. Toji tries to hide his anxiety the best he can. It’s true that he’s not worried about Itadori getting fresh with Elska, he trusts the boy holds zero interest in her romantically and visa versa. ‘Sukuna…’, his eyes narrow when the name becomes his focus because it’s the king of curses that has Toji on edge. Sukuna cared enough to give up a piece of himself for her in the forest, no one even begged or propositioned him to do it. Judging by the past, that’s very unlike the Sukuna, ‘He’s only interested in what’s beneficial…’. He’s grateful to the curse for the few times he’s been helpful, especially that day, but not for a second does he trust this.

When they’re nearing their building, Choso stops Toji when he sees a black Mercedes parked in in their path. “Who do you know with a car like that?”, the being asks, not having any knowledge about such vehicles. Gojo’s surging energy can be felt overflowing out of nowhere so they end up running the rest of the way. They’re able to make out an argument as they course through the dark green foyer.

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“So I was right about you, you’re just as dangerous as they say.” The tall man remains unflinching to Satoru’s bluff of an attack. “I suppose the rumors about Ms. Oda are true then too.”. He brushes off the dust from his expensive jacket and looks over the wall around where he stood. Gojo deliberately missed and outlined his place in leu of landing, ‘An aggressively volatile man, isn’t he?.’.

“I simply don’t care for judgmental cunts like yourself.”, Gojo snarls when he gathers the man before him is merely trying to provoke him. He spats “We don’t fucking need you here, Nanamin will be awake in a few days.”, while showing his predatorial side to this dark-haired man.

Suguru watches the two of them intently, not sure if he should intervene. One thing he does know from this exchange, however is that this fill-in for Nanami has a personal grudge against Gojo and Elska. Getou considerately projects, “If you wish to make us your enemies, you will discover suffering.”, and becomes relieved when it seems the new overseer is going to leave. Never in his life did he think he’d be defending Satoru.

Choso runs into the room first and builds his presence as the line on his face waves, “Who is this!?”.

Toji steps in as well and glares at Suguru and Gojo but makes it clear that if anyone beats them up, it’ll be him.

“I’m your new temporary manager.”, the man orients himself to face them, “Since you blood shaman have acted so recklessly with Kento’s life as well as everyone else’s, I am here to assure you all remain in check.”.

The stranger’s phrasing spins Gojo into thought, ‘Kento? He must know Nanamin…’. It also leaves him to ponder on the words, blood shaman. ‘Is that what they’re calling us now?’, smirking to the eerie title, ‘I dig it.’.

“I already know you three because of your profiles…’, he glances at Toji, Suguru and Gojo, excluding Choso who he’s honestly intimidated by due to the darkness in his energy. Satoru is obviously the strongest but there’s something ominous about the being’s aura. He refrains from rolling his eyes when Toji demands his name and nonchalantly concludes, “Hiromi Higuruma.”.

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Elska wraps the grey towel around her body and gets to her feet behind Naoya.

“STAY THE FUCK BACK CHONAN!”, the blonde growls when it’s obvious that his brother has been afflicted by her pheromones. He isn’t about to let anything happen though, not to his princess.

Chonan hungrily stares at her because she’s the only thing that cools the strange heat he’s enduring. He feels like he can’t breathe but he willingly huffs up the scent. He’s never held any true physical desires for the girl in front of him, but for some reason, carnality now consumes him.

Elska narrows her eyes. It took her a moment to recognize the handsome man before her but she’s now recalling him being the eldest brother she almost tore apart. She glares viciously, bearing her fangs as she views him from head to toe. He’s a little taller than Naoya and you can tell that he’s the older of brothers. Although he resembles her prince in features, Chonan has thick black hair that lies straight and over his ears. She even catches herself thinking he’s almost like a mixture of Toji and Naoya with a flare of Naobito’s ugliness in appearance and personality. She increases her presence maniacally, fed up with this pestering vermin who keeps coming after them, “You are brave for bearing ill intentions to my prince.”, she relays in her lowly tone. “Brave or imbecilic.”.

“Baby, I will handle this.”, Naoya uses his arm to keep her in shielding range. He doesn’t appreciate the idea of Chonan spying on them and wonders if that was the crash he heard when her third wave erupted. ‘Shit, so he was hit with two?’, that solidifying the low chances of Naoya getting through to him.

Chonan doesn’t give any indication that he’s going to pursue her and heaves in place against the wall. He’s still not feeling right at all. When Naoya relaxes his stance in thought, Chonan uses his projection to zoom behind his brother, to her.

Elska topples over the benches and into the Zenin blue tile with the large man lunging on top of her. He’s instantly groping her thighs and sucking on her neck, his idiocy brimming her with new intolerance. She opens her mouth in a sheer rage of this fool thinking he could get away with his actions. Right as she was about to bite out a chunk of his face, multiple cracks can be heard following Chonan’s cries.

Naoya yanked away his brother’s arm to break his wrist and elbow, “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HER!”, he bellows while he then dislocates his glenohumeral joint. Satisfied by the wailing, he now grabs Chonan by the hair and drags him along the floor out of the bathroom, hoping he can handle this before Elska gets involved. “She will fucking kill you, you idiot!”, he harshly whispers over Chonan’s protests. When he finally reaches the door, Naoya bends over to hoist Chonan to his feet but pins him against it by the collar. With absolute sincerity, Naoya explains to him, “If you keep this up, you will die.”, and jolts him against the wood. “I don’t know what the fuck your deal is but she is mine. Not yours. Not the clan’s. You need to leave us alone and not come back. Consider yourself lucky because if the others saw what I just did, you’d already be without a head.”.

“Fuck you little Naoya.”, Chonan scowls in defeat, but isn’t as mad as he may appear. He was originally trying to learn more about her abilities when he felt her ominous presence manifest. That scent however, was not part of the plan and he did not factor in for something so unusual. Most people would be afraid to even think about such a person as her, after what she did to him and his men before but that terrifying experience made him understand why she’s so valuable. If he wants to do what most eldest sons do and inherit the leadership, he knows he needs Elska to do it.

“Tch.”, Naoya applies pressure to Chonan’s throat, “Fuck you right back.”, and uses his projection to punch his brother in balls. Hard. When the unwanted man doubles over in pain, Naoya opens the door and pushes him through it with his foot. “Mine.”, he declares right before slamming it shut, appreciating the pathetic sight his brother was left in.

“Naoya?”, Elska was ready to dismember the intruder but has to calm her protective instincts. When Naoya turns to her, she drops the towel to hurriedly near him, throwing her arms around his neck. “That was very princely of you…”, she grins against his lips before kissing them, adoring his devotion and chivalry. It was hot.

Naoya hums lovingly while their tongues collide and lifts her up. She wraps her legs around his waist so his hands are swift in placement to support her. They literally just experienced each other but he’s already falling into another lustful stupor. It’s as if he finally saved his damsel in distress, though he knows she would’ve mopped the floor with Chonan. She nips his lip, confirming the ideation that its time for a round two which initiates his feet to take to the bed.

“No…”, she breaks away to look down into his glowing eyes, “Take me back to where we were.”. His brows jump mischievously, conjuring a stream of giggles to pour from her. He walks them into the bathroom, over to the benches but she suggests that he be the one to lie down.

“Oh? My princess likes it when I defend her honor?”, teasing as he gets comfortable and positioned. He bites his lip when she removes the dampened and stretched out thong, all while her alluring eyes stick to him. She straddles one of his legs but then bends over to swallow his length and he can’t help but look in the mirror.

Elska did that on purpose. She knows that he can see her orally perform but also view the rest of her in the reflection with the angle she chose. She never answers his question with words but rather yearns to show him her appreciation. While still holding him in her mouth, she uses both hands to unify her hair for him to hold.

Naoya’s in heaven. “Fuuuuck…babbyy…”, he moans when she glucks a few times, sending his body into contortion. He assists her with his hips, peering down his nose to see her lips meet his abdomen. “Naughty little princess.”, he smiles as the words leave his mouth, turning his view to the mirror. He whimpers wantonly when he sees her clenching around nothing and how his previous load is beginning to leak. “Mmm…”, he loves the very sight and it sends him into urgency to fill her again.

Elska is yanked off of his thigh and then pulled to be guided over top. She wipes her mouth as she finds her balance against the padded seats, more than ready to ride him. Naoya’s half lidded, glowing gaze drives her wild as it always seems to. She leans down to press their lips together and works her way back down his girth. Feeling him slip in earned a cry, a sensual, deep, needing one and she unleashed it right in his ear.

“My poor baby…”, he coos while bending his knees more and securing her against his chest. He gives her one full thrust that has her singing, “Does it feel good? Do you want more?”. She blurts out “Please, Master Naoya, yes”, so he sends a hand to the small of her back and steadies her while he juts his hips.

Elska clings to her prince as he wonderfully pummels her from below. Never in all her time would she think she’d be calling any man master, especially when she is truly one. Naoya has always affected her differently though and she’s prompted of this as she feels two waves building up within her body. “Nao…ya…”, she babbles into his chest, “Two…”, but wasn’t fast enough.

Naoya gets smacked with both waves and grits his teeth as they fuel his instincts. He slows his rhythm of merciless rocking, not only to catch his breath but so he could listen for any signs of them being walked in on. She eventually sits up though and braces herself against his chest to roll her hips. He too leans forward to catch her nipple between his lips and manipulates the other between the pads of his fingers. Her arousal is coating his entire lap and pants by this point, the sweet slushing of their mutual love resounding in the open space. He peers into the mirror to see them and thinks to shift himself a little. When he does, his brow furrows because he can watch himself disappear within her walls. “Look baby…”, Naoya turns her head and holds it there while he lifts his hips.

He’s making her view at how they’re connected and it honestly is something she’s discovering she likes too. She never gets to see this perspective; how perfect he looks inside of her. He reaches and spreads one cheek, gripping the meat to expose everything his body is doing to hers. She yelps when he smacks her ass but he grips the skin again, soothing some of the sting.

“I have so many plans for this now…”, he breathlessly informs her with a devious expression, thrilled with her obvious affinity to the mirrors. He halts her hips and pats her thigh to get up but once they do, he takes her hand a facilitates her bending over the benches, facing their reflection. Naoya grabs his base and maneuvers his shaft between her cheeks, sandwiching his erection between them so he could stroke along her entirety with his own. He observes her expressions morphing in the mirror and matches them with her sounds. Snaking an arm up between her breasts, his fingers secure her throat, “Now I can see my pretty princess from behind…”. It takes him a couple of nudges but he’s soon sloshing back into her while he folds his body over hers and they both moan.

Elska shuts her eyes out of pure reflex when she feels her orgasm creeping in. Naoya’s in her ear though, coaxing her to open them with his deep, commanding voice so she does. His mounting and internal massaging already felt good enough, but as she stares at him through fluttering lashes, the masterful glare he wears sends her over the edge.

Naoya sinks into her and momentarily stops to truly appreciate her contractions while she unravels. She seems to appreciate the reprieve too but he hits her with, “That’s right princess…”, he leaves a trail of kisses across her back, “Remember this moment the next time Getou tries to be slick.”. She clenches to his words so he starts thrusting again, gliding through their mess. “I will be damned if he has you…”. One of his fingers is taken into her mouth and as he watches her melt to his impacts, he repositions himself to climb over top of her.

Elska’s eyes take in how they look together, how she bounces against the nudging benches as her prince rails her. She half wonders if maybe she shouldn’t cause this situation more often because his domineering enthusiasm has her at his mercy. Their eyes meet in mirror and Naoya gifts her with deep slow strokes while he kisses the side of her face, humming his ecstasy.

“You’re so wet princess…”, he seductively lushes into her ear, “I’ll have to tell him…”. Her whimpers in response certify that she’s getting into his salacious jealousy. “Maybe I should fuck you in front of him too. I bet he’d hate to see how willing you are for Toji and I.”, he threatens before turning her face to him. His brow furrows immeasurably to her flustered face, how her watering eyes peer up to him and invade the soul he’s now aware of. Naoya forces their lips together when she cries out, muffling her saccharine sounds as he pumps his hips. That little idea turned him on more than he expected and has left him with actually wanting to do it. There’s literally nowhere else he’d rather be, no one else he’d rather be with. Her legs begin quaking, her top half folding over, causing a feral grin to plaster his face. He postures upright while wrenching his fingers around her hips, chasing his own release while granting her another. One of his hands tangles into her hair, pulling her back as he props a foot onto the bench, changing his angle.

Elska is running out of steam but that’s not to be mistaken for displeasure. Her body is streaming with wonderful sensations, her mind and heart invested in his attitude. The grip he holds her with is much harsher than he’s ever performed in the past but her eyes glow and share the bliss she’s unable to articulate.

Naoya demands, “Look at me baby…”, and her radiating eyes find him, instantly breaking his endurance as they both are rushed with relief. As their overstimulated moans trail through the room, he remains inside, wrapping his arms around her to feel the clamminess of their sticking skins. His thrusts are nearly nonexistent, his body is still reeling from releasing his contents again so soon.

Elska heaves in place, against the benches. “My…”, she pants with satisfaction, “…prince…”. He chuckles into her ear, still collecting himself as well but when adjusts his arms to wrap near her face, she forms her fangs and sensually sinks them into him. His sweetness could make her cry but it instead entices a whimper as it flows across her tongue. His wonderful moans reverberate off her shoulder, he even fights back a little by weakly pumping his defeated length. She groans invitingly when she can feel his daggers skipping across her skin, becoming curious to learn how it would go if they fed off each other at the same time.

Naoya doesn’t even think about it and simply bites down. The conversion of this incredible chain that circulates both of their emotions, recycling through them in an insanely overpowering trance-inducing fashion, occupies his mind while he drinks. The sweetness crosses his consciousness and he’s instantly aware that it’s his own flavor, but it’s been fed to him through her perspective. His mind goes blank for a moment and a nurturing warmth circulates through them both but then, something appears inside of head. Behind his eyes, there’s an image of tiny bud that’s in its first stages of life, not even close to blossoming. He can’t quite nail down the sensation that’s flushing through his veins but he feels like it may be similar to the frenzy, but without the violence. ‘Does she feel this too?’, he wonders to the blaring way it steals his body.

Elska almost removes her teeth and arches her back, the calamity and chaos building within.

‘COMPLETE IT.’.

Her eyes shoot open with a blinding glow that quickly catches Naoya’s attention and ends his feeding. He turns her over, yanking her teeth out of him, frantically studying her face but seems to become less restless when she smiles. “That was…”, she raises a hand to cup his cheek, “…I believe part of another ritual.”. But its strange because although it felt familiar, she didn’t fully understand what the ancestral voice was meaning, unlike in the past. She asks her prince, “Did you…”, hesitancy chaining her curiosity, “Did you see a plant?”.

((Was inspired to add this new JJK character after discussing it with @syynnaaah I’m still unsure about how he will fit in but I’m looking forward to figuring it out. Thank you for reading!))

Next Chapter >>

Chapter List

Tagging: @syynnaaah @angelofthorr @itstackytime @animemenrbettr

#jjk #Jujutsu Kaisen #jjk dilfs #jjk romance #Naoya Zenin #Toji Fushiguro #Satoru Gojo #jjk choso #Suguru Geto #higuruma hiromi #Naoya x reader #Toji x reader #choso x reader #Geto x reader #Gojo x reader #Elska oda #Titer clan

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years

Text

Power Over Me - 2.

Bucky Barnes x Reader AU

Part 1

Run-through: CEO James Buchanan Barnes is a dominant. And he’s spent the last 5 years searching for his perfect submissive. Then one night, he finds you. He thinks everything will fall perfectly into place now; but he thought wrong. Turns out your unfortunate past which still haunts you to this day, and some of his enemies are, well, connected. Things go wrong. And your bond with your dom is tested in many ways…

Themes throughout the series: dom/sub dynamic, smut, dirty talk, angst, fluff, soft dom!bucky

Please be him. Please be him. Please be him.

You pleaded to the universe, or God, or anything really, as the club manager dragged you back towards the lounge area.

You passed by the large, wooden flight of stairs which led to the playrooms, and it immediately reminded you of Mr. Barnes. How gently he had held your hand while ushering you upstairs earlier that night… how perfectly your hand fit in his and his around yours… how delicately he had intertwined your fingers together. And just how amazing he was.

You soon came to a stop at the more quiet part of the lounge, your head was still down. You were nervous. The manager let go of your hand and walked away, her heels clicking against the marble flooring. You heard another pair of shoes approaching you.

“Look up, doll.” It was him. Mr. Barnes.

You very shyly looked up and found yourself staring into piercing eyes. His piercing eyes. He smiled down at you. You broke into a faint smile as well, but it didn’t last very long, you soon looked down in panic. What if he found your staring rude?

He didn’t. His hand reached out to touch your face again. He grabbed your chin gently and titled your head up so you look at him properly. His thumb softly caressed your skin. “Don’t look away from me.” He spoke softly, just like he always did.

You nodded, and maintained his stare. He scanned your face, his eyes lingered around your lips then he quickly looked back up into your eyes. “I need to ask you something, sweetheart. Know that if that’s not what you want, you can say no. Okay, baby?” he asked, in that caring tone of his.

You nodded again. Bucky held on to the hope he had. And he asked you, “Would you want to come home with me?” he stepped a little closer. “Because I like you quite a lot.” He whispered under his breath and leaned in closer. So close that his mouth touched the shell of your ear. “And something tells me you like me too.” He breathed into your ear.

His voice, his words reverberated within you; sending pleasant chills down your spine which ended at your core; slightly wetting your already damp underwear a little more.

Home with him… that sounded perfect. But what if… what if he turns out to be like- no! Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him. This isn’t him. This is Mr. Barnes. Sweet, soft-spoken, kind and caring Mr. Barnes.

You had seen him at the club often, and how he mostly kept to himself. How he always stayed at the bar away from the crowds when most of his friends attended a scene. How he had always behaved like a gentleman. And just how he was leaving the decision on you, which had never happened in your case before.

Yes. Home with him sounded perfect.

“I would like that, sir.” You answered.

No other questions were asked. He smiled at your answer and dropped his hand from your face and reached out to grab your hand in his again. He could still find remnants of nervousness and panic and fear on your face. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re safe with me.”

He meant it. He meant what he said with all his heart.

Not even minutes later, you two were making your way out of the club. And for the first time in a long while, neither of you were walking out of the doors feeling lonely or incomplete.

Bucky had his hand carefully placed in the small of your back, he opened the doors for you once you sat in the passenger seat, he bent down to caress your cheek one more time before he shut the door and walked to the other side.

You let out a nervous breath as he opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. It was a good kind of nervous. You took a deep breath and only then noticed how amazing the interior of his car smelt; new, and expensive and hints of his cologne were present as well.

You waited for him to say something, but he just held your hand in his as he drove out of the venue. His touch was warm and calming. You leaned back into the cool seat and exhaled slowly. For the first time in a long time, the silence between you and someone else wasn’t heavy, or awkward. It was peaceful.

Ten minutes into driving, he turned to look at you briefly. Smiled, then looked back at the road. You were staring out of the window so you didn’t notice him looking over at you frequently. Bucky couldn’t believe you were actually here with him, in his car; on your way to his house. Where you’d be staying, with him.

You and him, there was definitely something there between you. Something felt like it fit when you were together, and it had only been hours since you met, but still. Bucky could feel it. And it only made him want to never let you go even more.

“Are you alright, doll? What’s bothering you?” he asked, he could tell you were overthinking.

You didn’t reply. Instead you looked down at your lap, where his hand held yours. You hadn’t realized that you had wrapped your other hand around his as well, so now his large, warm hand was secure between your grasp.

You may speak when asked a question, doll. You remembered his words from earlier.

“Nothing, sir. I’m fine.” You kept your answer polite and short, so Bucky didn’t push you. You and him had a long way to go, and he intended on making all your troubles, even the insignificantly tiny ones, all go away.

You just wait, my little pearl, happiness is on the way. Bucky thought to himself.

“Alright then. I need you to know that I’m here, whatever it is. You can talk to me about anything, doll. Okay?” his voice sounded so soothing. So calm.

You nodded, then responded. “Yes, sir.”

Half an hour later, when Bucky pulled into his front yard, past the gate, you looked around in pleasant surprise. Then again, he was well-off so of course he lived in a house which looked like a modern rendition of a castle. You could see part of the illuminated sunroom, and a part of you was immediately curious. You were always a plant lover, so this was a very good start already.

Bucky stopped on the dark brick path, right in front of the stairs which led to his front door. He turned the engine off and the two of you just sat there in the comfortable silence, relishing the warmth inside the car.

He squeezed your hand gently. You squeezed his hand back. He chuckled. “I want you to know, that you can leave at any given moment you want. Just say the word ‘winter’ and everything ends right away. I will have someone drop you off to where you wanna go. Okay, doll?” he asked, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

As usual, you nodded. He could see the silhouette of your face moving up and down. “Speak.” He said again.

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky held your hand as you two walked in. He had a wonderful house, you were truly amazed. It was just the right blend of a modern home with vintage décor. The perfect balance between contemporary styles and accents of antique pieces here and there.

It was warm, and welcoming.

“Come on, I’ll show you something.” he gently gave your hand a soft tug, to get you to follow him. He reminded you a lot of the kids who drag people to show them their new room. You broke into a smile when Bucky had his back to you.

He took you up the stairs and down a large hallway. Then stopped at a pair of wooden doors. He looked back at you as he opened it with a faint smile. He walked in first, you stepped in right after and you were again, pleasantly surprised.

It was a bedroom, and it was absolutely stunning. Clean lines and shapes, dark wooden floor, accents of red and black and shades of grey on the bedding, multiple pillows, rugs, artworks and furniture. You immediately liked the soft, large, dark grey pouf in the middle of the room. You also really liked the large windows which would give you incredible views of the lush backyard and the sunset.

“It’s your new bedroom. Like it?” he asked, after giving you a few moments to check out the room. You frowned, then immediately remembered that he preferred audible answers.

“My bedroom, sir?” you were puzzled. Your previous master, he… he never offered you your own bedroom.

Bucky didn’t like the look you had on your face once the memories of the past came flooding back in. He could easily read your face. “What is it, baby? You don’t like it?”

You shook your head immediately. The room wasn’t the problem here. “I do, sir. It’s lovely. I just…” you trailed off again. Bucky waited. “I never had my own room with… with my previous master.” You told him. He frowned.

“Then where did you sleep? In his bed?” he asked. There was a part of him who disliked, for some reasons, the image of you beside another man in bed. Not disliked, he actually hated it completely.

You shook your head again, slower this time. “No, never in his bed. I slept on a pallet beside his bed. Always.” you answered so casually. Bucky was horrified. Always? It wasn’t an unusual thing in this lifestyle, but even as a dominant himself, he still believed that that was a bit much. How dare any dom treat a sub any less than like an absolute treasure?

Bucky stepped closer to you, and reached out to cup your face. He could easily tell that talking about that man made you upset. “Hey baby, don’t think about him. You’re here now, you’re with me. This is your room now, your space, you’re free to do what you want with it and in it. My bedroom is at the other end of the hallway, in case you need anything.” He spoke, taking his time and making sure you understood.

You nodded, and he continued. “Now, settle in. You’ll find everything you need in the closets.” He spoke, leaning in and giving you a kiss on the cheek. “Shower, and then get some sleep, okay? We’ll have plenty of time to talk and discuss things tomorrow.”

Shower and sleep, huh? But what about… you opened your mouth to ask but then you stopped before uttering a word. He noticed, and didn’t like how you hesitated.

“What is it, baby? We’re in your room, remember? You’re free to talk in here.” He explained.

You asked him. “What about… your playroom?” He hadn’t shown you that yet. You were curious, after all that was the main reason why you were here, you were sure.

He smiled warmly. “Like I said, tomorrow. You’re tired, you need to get some rest. Now go on, take a nice warm shower, and sleep. Breakfast will be at eight tomorrow morning.” He spoke and leaned down to briefly kiss the side of your mouth. “Don’t be late.” He said before leaving the room. He closed the door on his way out and you stood there, thinking again.

This treatment was very new to you. You smiled faintly and reached up to touch your face, where he had kissed you just seconds ago. This was definitely something you could get used to.

You followed what he had said. You walked into the equally as luxurious bathroom and scanned the shelves and cabinets and found everything one could possibly need. As he said, you took a nice warm shower. You thought of him as you washed and conditioned and rinsed your hair. Mr. Barnes… how lucky you were that he chose you.

Then, you heard the sound of the bedroom door opening. You panicked, but then you remembered his words; Don’t worry, baby. You’re safe with me.

Not even a minute later, you heard the sound of the door closing; signaling that whoever walked in, walked out. Must be Mr. Barnes.

Indeed it was, because when you walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in fluffy grey towels and making your way to the closet to see if you could find clothes to sleep in; something on the bed caught your attention. It was a white t-shirt, nicely folded. With a folded piece of paper placed on top of it.

You picked up the paper first, it read;

-There are PJs in the closet if you want, but I would rather you wear this to bed. Good night, babygirl.

You caught yourself smiling at the note. You ignored the warmth spreading through your body as you picked the shirt up. Mindlessly, you brought it closer to your face and you gave it a sniff. It smelt clean; of soft laundry detergent and remnants of Bucky’s cologne.

You put it on then went on to search for underwear. You found new ones – still in their packaging – in the drawers, slipped them on and climbed into bed. The comforters felt like a giant marshmallow; warm and comfy. You remembered to set an alarm so you could wake up and be ready for breakfast at 8 the next morning. You nearly shivered as you thought of what used to happen back with your previous master, whenever you would accidentally wake up late.

No, stop it! This isn’t him. This is Mr. Barnes. This is different, this will be different.

You forced yourself to think of Bucky as you drifted off to a much needed sleep. The blue in his eyes… the softness of his lips… the way his voice was enough to bring you to your knees and how the sound of his moans was pure heaven. And his perfect face and perfect body…

---

You woke up to an unfamiliar but warm feeling. Warm puffs of air hitting your neck, and strong, muscular arms wrapped around you.

Muscular arms…? Oh, Mr. Barnes!

Your eyes shot open, and you panicked.

Bucky, who had snuck into your bed this morning, felt your body tense in his embrace. “Hey, hey baby it’s me. Don’t worry, it’s just me.” He whispered in your ear, his face pushed into the crook of your neck.

God damn his morning voice!

You freaked out anyways, thinking you had slept in and that you were late. “I’m so sorry Sir, I didn’t mean to sleep in. I did set an alarm, I-“

He cut you off immediately. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s still early. I just came by because… I was missing you.” as soon as he said so, you relaxed, he could feel it. “It’s okay baby, just focus on my voice. Everything’s fine.” He whispered into your ear, softly kissing down your neck.

You closed your eyes and you almost moaned at his soft touch. Just like that, you didn’t have to worry about a thing, and you let him take control. His arm circled your waist, but it soon slipped under the shirt you wore to sleep. His shirt. He chuckled as he slowly cupped your breasts with his warm hand. “I see you chose to sleep in my shirt.” He murmured in your ear as the cold tips of his fingers grazed over your erected nipple. “I like it.” he chuckled lightly.

Bucky pinched your nipple between his fingers just a little, and you gasped as a tingle danced down your spine and ended right in between your legs. You could feel Bucky behind you, his large, muscular body spooning you from behind; his body heat wrapping around you.

Slowly, he pushed his knee in between your legs, separating them and making room for his hand as he trailed it down from your breasts and dipped his hand into the satin underwear. He was so close to your damp core, and his mouth kept muttering sweet nothings in your ear. You involuntarily smiled, with your eyes closed as you relished his touch.

His fingers slowly circled your clit, smearing your wetness around and he smirked at the noises you made. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.” He whispered in your ear as he lazily toyed with your throbbing clit. You almost smiled again at his words. You whimpered at his touch.

He gave you a light kiss on your jaw, his stubble pressing into your skin. “I thought about how good your pretty mouth felt around me.” He dragged his fingers down your folds and slowly slipped a finger inside you, followed by another and he curled both instantly, stroking your walls lazily. “And how pretty you look on your knees.” He breathed into your ear. You moaned, pressing your butt further against his pelvic bone.

“Your pretty, warm and wet mouth and the wild look in your eyes as you looked up at me, your mouth full of my cock.” He whispered, his voice sweet and calm. His fingers sped up, slipping in and out of you, brushing against all your sensitive spots. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you? You enjoyed pleasuring me, knowing that no one else could make me moan and cum like you could. Didn’t you, baby?”

You couldn’t respond. Your mind was foggy, messy. His actions paired with his words were a deadly combo, he was making you tremble in the best way possible. Bucky was exploring you, and he intended on learning more about your body in the coming days. He wanted to know it like the back of his hand.

He pulled his fingers out of you abruptly, completely still. “Answer me.” He growled, but not too loudly, in your ear. And his voice broke the reverie you were in.

“I did,” you answered, still in that haze. “I did enjoy pleasuring you, sir.” You repeated.

He chuckled and kissed you beneath your ear, you shivered. His lips were soft, and you could feel his smirk pressing against your skin. “Good girl.” He pushed his fingers in you again, stroking your walls again. “That’s what I thought.” He whispered again, placing his thumb on your clit and rubbing it in sync with how his fingers stroked your walls. It drove you insane. You moaned wantonly, moving your hips slowly trying to match the trust of his fingers.

“So I decided that you needed a little reward for serving me so perfectly yesterday. You did so good, baby.” he whispered, meaning it, as his fingers brought you to the edge. You whined, pushing back further into him. You felt tingly, and warm. And safe in his embrace – something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” he asked, fingering you and rubbing your clit faster, and faster. You nodded, then remembered he preferred audible answers.

“I am, sir.” You whined, moaning at the end, unable to hold back. You felt your lower body tensing, the pressure built nicely as he sped up.

He hummed in appreciation, right in your ear, before he kissed down your face and nibbled on your neck. “Tell me.” He mumbled against your skin. “Who do you belong to, my little pearl?”

Oh that nickname did things to you. You clenched around him at the sound of it and he noticed. He chuckled and spoke again. “Tell me.” he sounded growly again. You almost came right there.

“I’m yours.” You whined, unsure of how much longer you could hold it. “I’m all yours, sir.” Your desperation could be heard in your voice. He liked it.

He chuckled again, the sound of his voice made you whimper and squirm against him. “Remember that, sweetheart.” He kissed your neck, and you clenched around him, feeling your release approaching. “You’re mine.”

You came, hard. With a loud moan, clenching around him, drenching his fingers with your wetness. Your hips involuntarily bucked against his hand as your orgasm washed over you. Intense, pleasurable and sweet – much like Mr. Barnes himself.

He kissed the side of your face as you calmed down. “All mine.” he mumbled against your skin as he kissed down your neck again. “Now come on, breakfast downstairs in 15 minutes.” He pulled away from you and got out of the bed. You sat up and watched him. Messy hair, shirtless with just his black sweatpants on, he looked delicious. “Don’t be late.” He winked and left.

You still felt tingly in all the places where he touched you. You felt just a little sore and stickiness in between your legs, but you caught yourself smiling again.

You only had 15 minutes so you rushed into the bathroom, showered as quickly as you could and brushed. Then walked out and finally walked into the closet to find clothes. You were, yet again, pleasantly surprised – both at the size of the closet and at the amount of clothes as well. There was a lot of them, and they all seemed like they would fit you perfectly. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

You settled on leggings and a large hoodie and made your way downstairs.

You found Mr. Barnes in the kitchen, with his back to you as he seemed to be chopping something. And the aroma coming from all the food made you sigh in delight. He heard it and turned around with a smile. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt so you took in his appearance shamelessly.

“Hi doll, come here.” he spoke with a smile, then got back to chopping. You walked over to him and found him chopping fruits and separating them into two bowls. “Hungry?” he asked.

“A little.” You answered. He had satiated half of your hunger earlier already. He smiled to himself, he didn’t have to tell you to speak up this time. You did it on your own, instead of just nodding. You were learning already, it seemed. He liked it.

“Here,” he picked up half of a strawberry and held it up to your mouth. You parted your lips and inched forward, taking it into your mouth. You didn’t realize how close you were standing to him until you looked up and found him only inches away from your face. He slid the fruit into your mouth and watched you intently.

He bit his own lip and pulled away. “Let’s eat.” He carried both bowls to the table where pancakes and muesli were waiting. You chose to have a portion of the latter and sat across Bucky at the kitchen island.

You and him had a small talk over breakfast.

“Now tell me sweetheart, where did you used to live? And where do you work?” he sounded calm as usual, just a little more curious.

You swallowed and responded. “In an apartment that I shared with two other girls. And I used to work for the club.” You answered.

He frowned at the second part of your answer. But you had your head down so you didn’t see it. Work for the club? What does that mean? He, again, didn’t push you because it seemed like it wasn’t your most favorite topic.

“Well, you’re not going back to that club again.” he spoke and you immediately lifted your head up to look at him. His heart fluttered. “I’m plenty able to provide for the both of us. But I wouldn’t want you to just be bored at home, so you may look for a job that you like.” He finished with another wink. You smiled.

Of course he was perfectly able to provide for the two of you, he had more money than half the city combined. But you made a mental note to indeed look for another job. Speaking of mental notes…

“Can I, um, please ask you something, sir?” you spoke softly.

“Of course, doll. Go ahead.”

“The clothes in the closets, I mean I’m very grateful sir, but how did you…” you trailed off, not knowing how to word it well without thinking that you might sound rude.

But again, he knew exactly what you meant. “I messaged my assistants, right before we left the club. And gave them the necessary details and asked them to prep the room for your comfort. Including, the clothes.” He answered.

You smiled faintly. “Thank you, sir.” You said.

“No problem. I wanted things to be perfect for you, given you’ll be living here now. For quite a while.” He spoke again, and you looked up from your cereal bowl.

Quite a while sounded… good. At least he wasn’t threatening to kick you out if you messed up. You shivered at the memory. Bucky noticed.

“Are you okay, doll?” he asked, suddenly very much worried. He hated seeing you like this, tensed and upset and borderline scared.

You nodded. And he didn’t push you to speak up this time. And the rest of breakfast went by in comfortable silence. After breakfast, you were about to pick up your bowls and place them in the sink and do the dishes, but he beat you to it.

He walked over and as he bent down slightly to pick up your bowl, he kissed your temple and whispered, “Go wait for me in the living room.”

You whispered a ‘yes, sir’ and got down from the stool and walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway which led to the living room. You stood by the coffee table and waited. You noticed a notepad and a pen in the middle of the table. You didn’t think much of it.

You looked around, taking in the wonderful room. You could see the huge glass door which would lead to the sunroom and you longed to go there. You were admiring it from afar when you felt a pair of hands on either side of your waist.

“Hi.” Bucky murmured, pushing his face into your hair and inhaling the sweet smell.

“Hi.” You mumbled back, unsure of where this was going. Shouldn’t he be showing you the playroom by now? Shouldn’t he be telling you of his endless list of rules which you had to abide by every single day? Should he be this affectionate and touchy? Not that you minded this, no. This was all so amazing. You liked being close to him.

“Bend over.” He said, taking you by surprise as he pointed to the large velvet couch in the middle of the room, by the coffee table.

Bend over? Would you be punished already? You tensed at the sound of those words. You weren’t unfamiliar with spanks, you just wished to find out what you did wrong. Was it rude to ask about the clothes? You should have shut up and been grateful that he was giving you all this luxury, instead you questioned him. Was he mad about that?

You replayed the whole of breakfast time in your head, look for where you slipped up and made a mistake. Not realizing that you weren’t listening to him, until he spoke up again. “Babygirl,” he sounded just a little stern, “I said go over there, and bend over.” He repeated himself, softly still.

He noticed your nervousness and wanted more than anything to make it go away. You walked over to the velvet sofa he pointed at and bent over the large, cushioned armrest. You waited, nervous because you couldn’t see him anymore. But then he got closer, and you felt his hands on either side of your butt.

“There’s no need to be afraid of me, baby. You’re always on the edge, and I don’t like that at all.” He spoke, softly. You liked the sound of his voice, it had the power to calm your nerves and excite you at the same time.

You shivered when you felt him pulling your leggings down, followed by your underwear. He did so quickly, impatiently. The cold air hit your legs and you shivered again. But then you felt his warm hands massaging your butt cheeks. You knew instantly what was coming. “I want you to count till ten for me, okay baby?” he said. You nodded, and braced for the painful impact.

He lifted his hand up in the air and brought it down to spank your ass. You yelped, “One.” you muttered. You were surprised. It hurt, a little. But it also left behind pleasant tingles. You were confused.

He did it again, allowing his hand to linger on your skin a little longer this time, caressing where his hand landed. “Two.”

Was this punishment or no?

“Three.” You said, almost moaning at how good it felt, and heard him chuckle.

“Good job baby.” he muttered and slide his hand further down, stroking your folds. “You’re so wet already, angel.” He cooed and lifted his hand and spanked you again. “Four.” You sighed, in pleasure.

“Five.” On your left cheek. “Six.” On your left cheek again. It stung a little, but the kind that you wanted more of. “Seven.” On the right one. You whimpered in pleasure and pain. “Eight.” Left again. “Nine.” He smacked your dripping core instead of your butt. Your whole body tingled. You were breathless, but you cracked a little smile. He couldn’t see it.

“Ten.” You said finally. He grunted as he spanked you one last time. You moaned shamelessly this time, you were perfectly fine with being this exposed. He had you all worked up, hot and bothered with just ten spanks. You wondered, what playtime with him in his playroom would be like. Must be Heaven…

You waited again, since you couldn’t see him. You relied on your sense of hearing to determine where he was. But you didn’t hear anything for a few moments. Maybe he didn’t want you to get up just yet.

Then you felt him. His warm, soft lips and his stubble – his face pressed up against your dripping core. Your face felt hot as you realized what he was doing. He left loud, open mouth kisses from your butt down till your throbbing clit.

“Such,” he kissed your butt, then moved down, “a pretty and delicious,” he kissed your wet entrance and teased it with his tongue, moaning loudly at your taste, “little cunt.” He kissed your clit and sucked on it loudly, making you whimper and wiggle your butt just a little. He chuckled and pulled away. He pulled your ass cheeks apart and latched his mouth onto your core. His fingers lightly rubbed your clit as his tongue poked your tight entrance. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his mouth pleasured you.

A quiet moan escaped your lips as you heard the wet sounds which erupted from him eating you out. He was shamelessly moaning as well. His plump, pink lips worked on your wet heat; your arousal dripping down his chin and coating his lips as he devoured you. He took you higher…and higher until you shattered against his mouth and came undone all over his tongue.

He pulled away after he had his fill. “Such a good girl. Come here, baby.” he pulled up your underwear and leggings and lifted you from the armrest by the shoulder, noticing you were still trembling, recovering from your second orgasm.

He sat down on the couch nearby and pulled you onto his lap. You ended up straddling him, and you scooted closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He ran a soothing hand down your back while the other hand caressed your butt through the leggings. He was spoiling you.

Oh, so that wasn’t punishment?

He frowned and you realized that you had accidentally voiced out your inner thoughts. “Of course not. You did nothing wrong, angel. Spanks can be used as rewards, and for pleasure.” He explained. Oh.

“What was I rewarded for, sir?” you asked. He smiled.

“Just for keeping me company during breakfast. For trusting me, and for being so good earlier today.” He explained, making your heart flutter. Oh. He continued, “Besides, I don’t need a solid reason to touch you, do I baby? You’re mine, aren’t you?”

You cracked a little smile and nodded quickly. All yours. I’m all yours. “I am, sir.”

Bucky leaned in to kiss your forehead. You wondered why he hadn’t kissed you on the mouth yet. Did you want that? Hell yes you did!

“I’m ready, sir.” You said, after a while of admiring his mouth and wondering how it would feel against your own. He tilted his head in confusion.

“What for, baby?” he asked, pulling you closer and making you ‘accidentally’ grind on his crotch.

“For you to tell me about all your rules. I will be good, sir. I promise.” You sounded so… nervous. Bucky did wonder, about the possibilities of what kind of rules you might have had to abide by in the past. He hated everything that came to his mind, just thinking about another man having control over you.

“Oh I know you will.” he cooed. “You’re my precious little pearl, and I know you will always be good to me.” He reassured you that he had complete faith that you would be good.

You were a little surprised. Because a certain someone did tell you that if you don’t abide by all of his rules, he’d return you back. You shivered, again, at the thought of him.

This isn’t him. This isn’t him. This isn’t him.

“As for my rules, well,” Bucky leaned forward and grabbed the notepad and the pen. He opened the notepad and clicked the pen and began writing. “There’s not much baby. Just,” he told you each one as he wrote them down, “Listen when I talk. Obey when I tell you to do something. Don’t let another man touch you,” he looked up from the paper and leaned in to kiss your cheek, “Because you belong to me and only me.” He winked.

He continued, “Answer me when I ask a question. Don’t be rude. Don’t be too much of a brat. Don’t talk back.” he paused, then wrote something down, “Go to the playroom when I ask you to. And remember your safe words during playtime.” He looked up at you, stopped writing and made you recite them and what they’re used for.

Green, means you’re okay and you want this. Yellow, means you’re unsure but you do want him to push your limits a little more. Red, playtime stops right away because you’re in pain or totally uncomfortable. And lastly. Winter, and this is all over and you go your way and he goes his.

Winter… you never wanted to utter the word. And he didn’t want you to. He needed you as much as you needed him.

He added a couple more rules to the list. “Bedtime at 11, each night unless we’re in the playroom. And breakfast at 8 each morning.” He stopped writing and you frowned. “And that’s it.” he tore the paper and handed it over to you.

You looked down at it in surprise. What? That’s all?

He could tell you had a million questions. “What is it, baby? We can discuss anything.” He spoke and you stared at his lips again.

“Sir… what about my chores?” you asked, your voice sounding just a little unsure.

Chores? Bucky had heard about his friends, other doms, talking about the lengthy lists they give their subs.

“What chores, baby?” he asked, reaching up to caress your cheek. His eyes flickered down to your lips. Oh the things he would do to bite that mouth… No! Not yet.

You shifted a little on his lap, and he had to ignore the bulge slowly forming in his pants. Because right now, all he could care about was you and your comfort.

“I’ll need to cook, so what time is dinner? And when do you get home from work? I’ll need to clean before that, and wash and-,”

He cut you off by grabbing you chin and making sure he has your full attention. “Baby, hey.” He looked you deep in the eyes. “I have housekeepers, and butlers and chefs for all that. You don’t have to do any of those things.” He explained.

You were confused. “Then why did you bring me home, sir?”

He smiled softly at you. “Because I need you. And you need me. You’re here so I can take care of you, meet all your needs, be everything you need me to be. To keep you safe and protect you. I’m your dom, baby, it’s what I do. I’m here to take control when you need me to.”

He paused and pulled you closer. “And you’re here to keep me company, and fulfil my needs and be what I need you to be. Follow my little set of rules, which when broken will carry consequences.” He ended on a lighter tone. “And of course, lots of playtime.” He smiled and leaned in to kiss your neck. You giggled, feeling his soft lips against yours.

It was the first time he had heard you giggle. And it truly made him feel nice and warm. He liked the lack of nervousness and fear in your eyes. You were, dare he say, happy. And he managed to make you giggle, and he was freaking proud of that.

“I like that sound. I like it a lot.” He couldn’t help but point it out. You smiled bigger than he had ever seen. He wanted nothing more than to just lean in and kiss you deeply. But he knew he had to wait. Just a little longer, my angel. And I will give you countless kisses.

“We’ll discuss the dos and don’ts, and your limits later today when we-,”

He was talking, and you didn’t mean to interrupt but you couldn’t help it. You were taken by surprise by his words. “My limits, sir?”

He didn’t mind the interruption. “Yes, doll. We’ll need to discuss what I can and cannot to do you during playtime.”

You frowned. “I get to tell you that?” you were confused.

“Yes baby. Otherwise it’s not fair. This has to be a healthy, consensual relationship, does it not?” he was beginning to think of the worst things. Of someone exploiting you, someone taking your submission for granted, and using you. He felt angry.

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t help but think of him. And although you didn’t want to, you couldn’t help but compare Mr. Barnes to your previous master. They were poles apart. With Mr. Barnes, you were comfortable. With him, you had been…

You shivered, not wanting to think about how he had treated you. Bucky noticed you were deep in thought. And he couldn’t bear it anymore, he had to know. He absolutely had to.

“Baby, who trained you?” he asked, softly. You kept your head down as his name echoed in your head.

“My previous master did.” you answered. Bucky sighed and leaned closer to you, running a hand down your back again.

“Look at me, angel,” he said. You did. “You’re here with me now. No one’s gonna hurt you. I’m gonna keep you safe.” He paused and looked deep into your eyes. “Now tell me, who was your previous master?”

You shifted in his lap. “I must never call master by his name.” you repeated what he had told you; one of his many rules.

Bucky was getting more and more impatient and angry. He’s not your master. He’s not your dom. I am! “He is not your master anymore. His rules don’t apply, baby.” he grabbed your chin. “Who was he?” he persisted.

But you shook your head. You were confused and overwhelmed by your emotions and memories. Then Bucky thought of something. “Here,” he handed you the notepad and pen. “Write his name down.”

This, you obeyed immediately. You took the pen from him and wrote down the name of the one who had claimed to be your dom, your master. The first dom who ever collared you, but didn’t treat you well.

You wrote it down and handed it over to Bucky. He braced himself, but nothing could prepare him for the name he saw on the notepad. Bucky was surprised and angry. Bastard, his thoughts raced. He couldn’t believe it. Bucky was quiet, for a whole minute. You were beginning to worry.

Then he spoke up, “Let’s go upstairs, in my study. We need to talk.” He sounded, serious. So serious, almost betrayed? Jealous?

Before him, on the paper, in your handwriting was the name of the man who had treated you poorly under the excuse of being your dom. But it also happened to be the name of his biggest business rival;

Thor Odinson.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #dom!bucky #marvel #bucky barnes series

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cherrynojutsu · 3 years

Text

Title: Like Silver

Summary: A companion series for Like Gold.

It’s challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one’s vision keeps blurring, as it turns out. And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief. A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.

Blank period, canon-compliant, Sakura-centric, some expanded plot points from Like Gold, fluff and pining, eventually becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 2/?: A Poetic Sort of Procrastination, Indeed

Sakura saunters home late in the evening, admiring the stars above her in a daze of spring air and clutching her tote bag to her shoulder as if her very life force is tethered to it.

In the flurry of emotion, she completely forgot about returning her library books, but she doesn’t give a damn.

She drudged through her entire pile of paperwork, though it was an almighty effort requiring every ounce of her discipline. Even after Sasuke left, she kept tearing up and just gawking at the impossibly beautiful gift he’s given her, affection requited bubbling up inside her ribcage and unleashed into the air she breathes like some sort of ambrosial perfume she can finally afford to bask in. She has always known there is a softer side to him, that there is much more beneath the surface than he lets on with his laconic demeanor, but this is something else.

It’s challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one’s vision keeps blurring, as it turns out.

And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief.

A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.

She hangs her tote on its entryway hook and carefully removes the box inside once she reaches her apartment. After she’s padded her way to her bedroom, she flips on the two lamps before placing it tenderly on her bed.

Sakura briefly contemplates taking the lid off then and there, but she knows she really should shower first, because otherwise the evening is going to quickly spiral away from her, whirlpool of tender feelings that it already is.

It’s the quickest shower she’s ever taken in her life; berry-scented soap floods her body and seems to take forever to rinse clean in her haste, although it can’t actually be more than a minute or two in reality. It’s also the quickest she’s ever toweled off and changed into pajamas, scurrying back to her room and grabbing the first pair she lays eyes on from her dresser drawer.

Once she has shimmied them on, she opens the box again, and just looks.

It still exists - it doesn’t disappear or dissolve as a figment of her imagination - so she picks it up with careful hands.

It is so, so pretty, exquisite in a way that makes her heart hammer relentlessly against her sternum, a catharsis in her chest sweeter somehow than anything she’s ever experienced.

It’s unavoidable; her eyes well with tears again, because he said he had it made for her. Not found in an antique shop off the beaten path or some happenstance market who knows how many miles away. Not just something that reminded him of her.

Made for me.

Which means he thought of this himself. Silk that shifts colors like the Uchiha crest, fastidiously stitched petals, and a cherry blossom tree, carved light wood that is startlingly similar in tone to the accents here in her bedroom.

And the way he looked at her, after, a storm of silver and obsidian that took her breath away.

And he kissed her.

Sakura doesn’t know how she’s supposed to fall asleep tonight, deliriously happy as she is, or how she’s going to spend any of her free time from here on out not staring at this supernal treasure. She strokes the wood with careful fingers, bringing the carving upwards for closer inspection. Every inch of it is gorgeous; she is especially enamored with the pink and pearlescent stitching, coruscant in the low light. She assiduously counts the slivers of bamboo, too, and follows the rivulets of fine branches stretching upwards to the boundaries of the framework. Upon her inquest, she notices an impossibly tiny etching, faintly whittled on the interior of one of the slats of bamboo. Tai Ro, it says; she assumes that must be the craftsman’s signature. She wonders where it came from, which far-off land Sasuke traveled through to commission something so resplendent.

She has never seen anything so bewitching, except maybe silver flecks.

Tearing her gaze away from the fan, Sakura eyes the vanity by her balcony door, an idea brewing.

It’s an aged piece, of a bygone style featuring small drawers on each size and a sunken point in the middle, from which rises a large circular mirror. A framed copy of their original Team Seven portrait sits pushed against the framing, right in the center. She placed it there because she enjoys seeing it as she gets ready for the day. It’s a good memory, one of her favorites, sentimental in a way that makes her heart swell, after everything. A pale wooden hairbrush also sits perched atop its surface, given to her by her mother forever ago while she was still at the Academy.

“I found it in the market today, just after swinging by to pick up rose food from Ino’s mother. It’s old, an antique, but I think it suits you, my dear,” she’d said, ruffling her hair, still long at that point and chattering a mile a minute in the overbearing way she has always tended to. She’d brushed her already combed locks in the manner that Sakura thinks all mothers must with their daughters, even when they are starting to become too grown for that sort of thing. “What I wouldn’t give for your hair! So unique; you should have something lovely to brush it with. You’re already such a pretty girl, but someday you’re going to bloom, and when you do, heaven help the boys.”

There’s a cherry blossom on it, too, adorning the back simply with five perfect petals.

When Sakura moved out of her parents’ house, she chose the tones of her bedroom accents, inclusive of the frame, with it in mind; she’d been using it for years by then, and had developed a fondness for pale wood rooted in familial nostalgia. Most of her actual furniture in the room is secondhand, of an older variety and painted with a white stain to make them somewhat match - she prefers things with a little bit of history, has since her mom gifted her that hairbrush - but the few frames and wall-mounted shelves are lighter washes of wood.

Many of the surfaces in her apartment are cluttered with books and other knick knacks she has accumulated through the years, but she tries to keep the vanity’s top clear, almost like an altar, an ode to the things she finds lovely atop it to give her hope with which to greet the day.

Still clutching the gift tenderly in her hands, Sakura ventures over to it.

She holds the fan close to the frame as well as the brush, comparing the color, near an exact match, a fresh memory making her heart swell in a completely different way, a way she had previously thought was maybe unrealistic.

She’ll get a stand for it, she decides, and display it in the spot the frame currently sits; it would look perfect there, the curvature echoed above it in circular looking glass, a hairbrush of a similar stain beside it. Then she’ll be able to gaze at it every morning and evening. There is no way something this precious to her could ever be stored away in a box and only seen on special occasions; it’s the same reason she struggled with the idea of hiding his letters away in one.

No, Sakura is resolutely sure that admiring it will be a daily ritual.

She can relocate the photo frame to her bedside table, maybe, next to An Introduction to Electrocardiography , or perhaps to her living room, though it doesn’t really match the wood out there.

That gets her thinking. We’re... together now, right? He’s kissed her, and she really hopes he will again, surprisingly soft lips against hers, an aroma of woodsmoke, and butterflies unleashed in her stomach. Maybe she should put the frame on the shelf in the main room. He might come over, sometime; it would be good to have it visible, situated in a place where he can see it.

With the utmost care, she lays the fan on the surface in front of her. Sakura combs through wet locks, coaxing out tangles with an old gift and appreciating a new one with watery eyes. When she’s finished, she carefully clutches it again and admires it atop a lavender comforter for the better part of an hour, alternating between mentally mapping its fine stitching within the confines of her hippocampus and paging through her book of Sasuke’s letters in a way that is more than fond, affection freed from her chest after so very long. The jubilance crests to a sense of omneity as she does so, moon glow filtering in by way of the gauzy white curtains that shield the balcony’s glass door.

She absolutely can’t wait to see him tomorrow. She sincerely hopes she’s not dreaming all of this.

She is so enamored with it that she doesn’t even drink her customary evening tea, her being warmed in an entirely different manner she is as of yet unaccustomed to, better than earl grey or some variety of dessert. It’s immensely difficult to pry it from her own hands when the time comes to do so.

Always is the last word she thinks of before she succumbs to slumber, curled up in soft colors and hoping he has found somewhere comfortable to sleep. Treasured memories emanate from objects old and new, brewing together before a looking glass where she’s placed them for safekeeping and admiration.

XXX

When she awakens in the morning, Sakura jerks upright in bed, turning to her vanity to ascertain if it was all a dream, cozened in by her subconscious as she slept.

It wasn’t. The fan is still there, precious and so enchantingly beautiful, dawn flavoring the memory of Sasuke’s return just as sweet as it had tasted yesterday with his lips on hers.

She brushes her hair again, working at the task way longer than necessary and trying not to cry out of sheer happiness. She feels so light, as if being pulled upwards by a latterly existent force of gravity, theoretically possible in terms of relative physics and with the right circumstances, but never actually experienced.

Birds are singing on the balcony when Sakura finally steps outside, snacking on seeds from her bird feeder as she gives her fledgling plants a drink before leaving for work.

It is such a lovely morning.

XXX

Sakura makes it through work as if encapsulated in a brand of inertial navigation system, floating as if she’s a bizarrely sentient cloud from patients to test tubes. She feeds the mice and records the brief observations she usually does on Wednesdays, and then a Genin is being brought in with a linear fracture in their tibia, twisted wrong and impacted during training. She gives instructions to nurses, too, taking care of smaller tasks in between, part of her feeling like she is barely there.

Well, not barely. She still keeps her wits about her and heals people; she takes pride in what she does. She just… daydreams a little, too, sage, smoke, and silver occupying her spare moments, flitting in between the corridors of her head as she flits from exam room to exam room.

She’s sitting at her desk, eating an early dinner and working on a new pile of paperwork before her next appointment arrives at five thirty, when one of Naruto’s clones bangs on her window.

Her gaze shifts to the glass at the familiar boisterous whining of her name - “Sakura-chaaaaaaan!” - and she rises to open it the rest of the way, allowing him entry into her office, an easy grin coming to her lips.

“Naruto!” A million thoughts run through her head. He has to know Sasuke’s back at this point, right? Has he seen him? He must be so happy.

Cyan bores into her, and he grins as he steps down. “Sakura-chan, teme’s back! Can you believe it? Though I guess you knew since yesterday.”

Sakura’s cheeks warm at the implication of that, wondering how he knows this information, but her friend is plowing onwards.

“Anyways, wanna have an original Team Seven reunion dinner on Saturday night? Or maybe Sunday night? Kakashi-sensei said Saturday would be better for him, if it works for you. And we should also make it a housewarming party for teme, but Kakashi-sensei says DON’T tell him that, or he won’t agree! It’s a surprise.”

Laughter erupts from her chest, rich and joyful, because it is crystal clear in that moment that Naruto is as elated at Sasuke’s return as she is - okay, maybe not quite on the level that she is, but close - even through a clone. “Of course, we should! I don’t have anything planned for Saturday night.”

Her teammate grins, all infectious happiness in the way that is so utterly characteristic of him, eyes crinkling at their corners. “Good, great, awesome! Be sure to mention it to him when you see him at seven. I’m sure if you suggest it, he’ll definitely agree.” Sakura blinks in surprise, cheeks staining darker. “Man, this is gonna be so great! Team Seven is fucking back ! I can’t wait to get a mission! It’ll be just like old times. I gotta tell Hinata-chan, too!”

She can’t help it; she smiles so wide that it hurts her face, tears paying her another visit. Sasuke’s back. He’s really back. And-

“Well, anyways, I’ll leave you to eat your dinner, Sakura-chan, but we have to force him to be social. I can’t wait to spar! But also, we gotta have a picnic, and no tying me to the pole this time. We could even challenge Kakashi-sensei to get off his ass and give us another go at the bell test. And, and! We should have a movie night. And go drinking! I’ve never seen teme drunk. I bet he’s a lightweight, and he’ll probably say all sorts of embarrassing shit! And-” Naruto’s clone’s expression turns unexpectedly serious, blue eyes suddenly narrowing in a way that is all-seeing and a tan finger suddenly pointing at her accusingly.

“-I mean social outside of you and him, Sakura-chan! Don’t think for a second that you’re gonna escape my questions later, when my brain isn’t fried from staring at that stupid scroll Kakashi-sensei has me slaving over. I want answers. ”

And then Naruto’s clone disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving her blinking in a strange combination of bewilderment and somehow, shyness, too.

And ebullience. Mostly ebullience.

She stands there grinning like an idiot for a long time. She can’t wait to see him at seven.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like silver #fanfiction #labor day weekend = finishing things

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puppywritings · 4 years

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fidelium - johnny suh x gender-neutral reader masterlist

⇢ synopsis: you can’t wait to spend the weekend at johnny’s house. your boyfriend was a bad boy, and a motorcycle rider to boot. things were new, thrilling. perhaps more thrilling than you bargained for. you come to learn that it’s a lot more difficult to leave than to stay.

⇢ word count: 6.8k ⇢ trigger warnings: death, guns, toxic relationship involving manipulation, objectification, arguments. sexual elements and implied sex but no explicit scenes. ⇢ warning: the relationship displayed in this fic is in absolutely no way healthy or ideal. it’s one red flag after another. if somebody disrespects your boundaries, threatens you, objectifies you, manipulates you, or anything of the sort, they’re not a good person to be around and they don’t deserve to stay in your life. the contents of this fic may be upsetting to read.

⇢ a/n: this is my piece for @du0tine‘s 21 ways to kill your lover collab. intended for 18+ audiences. i also want to say, it’s not my intention to romanticize or glorify toxic, harmful, or abusive relationships - this is purely fiction. this writing also doesn’t reflect the real johnny suh, who i’m sure is a lovely person and would never engage in this sort of behaviour.

taglist: @prettyjaems @ethaeriyeol @1-800-seo @neonun-au (sorry if i forgot anyone i’m super disorganised w my taglists atm)

Johnny Suh didn’t fit your usual dating criteria. With his black leather jacket, heavy lace-up boots, and hulking motorcycle, he was a bit of a bad boy. And there was something exciting in that. You’d met him late one night, in the bar where you worked. You’d served him all night - rum and coke, his drink of choice. He certainly caught your eye, at first. He was handsome, with his brown eyes twinkling and his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. But it wasn’t until the two of you started talking that you became interested. It was a quiet night, and Johnny insisted on sitting at the bar in front of you. He was teasing, charming. And when he gave you his number at closing time, you actually tapped the digits into your phone, rather than just discarding it like you usually do. Unlike the rest of your patrons who thrust their contact details upon you, when it came to Johnny the interest was mutual.

So, while it was true that Johnny wasn’t quite the typical man you went after, the relationship had been going well. He’d been nothing short of a gentleman in the duration of your relationship, though he still thrilled you with his affinity for the more reckless things in life; late-night motorcycle rides, drinking just a little too much and partying all night. He took the mundaneness out of your life - he made your life an adventure.

Towards the end of your shift that Friday evening, you found yourself getting jittery; you checked the time every five minutes, and a swarm of butterflies was building in your stomach. Johnny was picking you up after work on his bike, and it was all you could think about. You almost ran out of the establishment, when the clock struck ten, marking the end of your shift. Your heart swelled at the sight of Johnny in the bar’s parking lot, leaning against his motorcycle with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, angel,” he greeted you, affection glowing in his eyes and his smile.

“Hi,” you beamed, wrapping your arms around his waist and taking in his warmth. He picked you up immediately, holding you tight and spinning you. “Johnny!” you giggled, fingers grasping the cotton of his white t-shirt.

“You ready to meet my boys?” he asked you, punctuating his question with a kiss on your nose. He was referring to the friends he considered family; he lived with them, in a rather large house on the outskirts of town, from what you’d heard. They were special to him, and you knew it was important to him that you got along with them. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely terrified. You knew it’d be okay, though. If they had Johnny’s approval you were sure they’d be good people. Plus, you could never be too scared with Johnny’s hand in your own.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you responded with a smile.

“Hop on,” he instructed you, tossing you a helmet and putting on his own. At the beginning of your relationship, he’d given you his own helmet, forgoing his protection for the sake of yours. You hadn’t liked this - this display of his reckless attitude that surpassed thrilling and sat nicely in the territory of dangerous - and so you’d pestered him until he bought a second helmet.

You secured your rucksack on your back, prepacked with all the clothes and toiletries you required for the weekend you’d be spending with your boyfriend, before climbing onto the large black bike behind him. Johnny had been driving you around on his bike for a number of weeks now, but you still weren’t quite used to it. The mix of fear and exhilaration, both from the wind whipping past your ears and from the sensation of your chest pressed flush against Johnny’s back, your arms tight around his waist. It made your heart race. The feeling you got from riding a motorcycle embodied everything that Johnny was: dark, exciting, intoxicating, addictive.

Johnny hadn’t been lying when he said he lived on the outskirts. The bright lights of the town centre were far behind you, and even the streetlights had begun to die out. You were alone with the moon and starlight now. The neatly paved roads gave way to rough muddy lanes. The built-up urban surroundings gave way to empty fields, then to a dense and seemingly endless forest. The bike’s headlamp shone a path through the trees, guiding Johnny to his home. Though your partner clearly felt familiar here, the environment sent chills down your spine - you could’ve sworn you felt eyes on you, peering out from the darkness. When your journey ended, at a solitary house looming tall against the dark backdrop of the forest, you were thankful.

“Here we are,” Johnny welcomed you, helping you off the bike. The house was bigger than you could’ve expected. The term mansion wouldn’t be amiss.

“So,” you commented, looking up at the structure, illustrated by the silver moonlight. “This is where you and your biker gang live?” You looked along the line of bikes, queued up around the house. They were of different styles and sizes, though (with your limited knowledge on motorcycles) they all looked rather impressive.

“I keep telling you, we’re not a biker gang,” Johnny corrected you, with a lighthearted roll of his eyes. “We’re just a group of friends who live together, and just so happen to ride together too.”

“And if that’s not a biker gang, what is?” you teased.

“Zip it,” Johnny said gently, and you complied. “Here, I’ll take your bag.”

“Ever the gentleman,” you commented, passing it to him. You braced yourself, as he led you into his home.

It was warm inside, much warmer than out in the chilly woodland. From what you could tell by looking at the entranceway, the place was tidy and well-lit. Your boyfriend led you down the hall, into an open-plan kitchen and living area, where Johnny's friends were sitting around the television.

"We're home, guys," Johnny announced, drawing their attention towards you.

"Hey, look what Johnny brought home!" one of them called out, bringing a blush to your cheeks.

"Watch it," Johnny warned, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close to him. "Y/N is all mine. You can look, but you can't touch. In fact, you can only look for five seconds at a time."

“These are the boys” Johnny introduced you to them. “This is Jaehyun, Ten, Mark. And that’s Donghyuck. My protege, right kid?”

“That’s right, John” the boy grinned up at Johnny from where he was sitting.

You gave a shy wave as you looked around at Johnny's friends. Though he had named them all, introducing them, it was a redundant act. You'd asked to see pictures of everybody prior to that night, not wanting to get lost amid a sea of unfamiliar faces. You saw Jaehyun, with his dimples and broad shoulders; Mark, with pronounced cheekbones and a delicate nose; Ten, with a feline-like beauty; and Donghyuck, full cheeks and long eyelashes.

"I think we're just gonna turn in for the night, right Y/N?" Johnny spoke, looking down at you. "See you boys tomorrow."

You waved at Johnny's friends, with a polite, "Bye." The boys chorused their goodbyes back at you, and Johnny led you away.

You couldn't help but admire the house as Johnny guided you to his bedroom, your hand in his. The place was huge, grand. You weren't sure under what circumstances Johnny and his friends acquired this house, but it can't have been cheap.

"And this," he led you inside, "Is my room."

The room was a fair size, with several tall windows and a four-poster double bed. The matching furniture looked sturdy and high-quality, a dark antique wood.

"This is impressive," you told him honestly. Johnny beamed in pride; he was always looking for praise, and you were happy to feed his ego.

Johnny lounged on his bed, laying back propped up on his elbows. "Come feel how comfy my bed is," he invited you with a smirk.

"Johnny Suh, you are not smooth. I know that's just an excuse to get me into bed," you said, falling beside him.

"If you knew it was just an excuse," Johnny asked, pausing to plant a kiss on your jawline, "Then why'd you join me?"

"Because," you tell him, "Maybe I want to be in bed with you."

Johnny gave a low chuckle, before kissing you again; a line beginning at your jaw, trailing down to your neck, and ending at your collarbone, making you gasp and lean into his touch.

"Johnny," you purred, your voice full of want.

"Let Johnny take care of you, baby," Johnny hummed. You obliged, submitting to his touch and surrendering to the pleasure.

Coming down from your high, you collapsed against Johnny’s bed, smiling as you looked up at your boyfriend who lay beside you.

“You’re perfect,” Johnny told you, his dark brown eyes gazing deeply into your own. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and you looked away, only for Johnny to tilt your chin back up towards him. “It’s true,” he reiterated.

“I’m not perfect,” you denied, wrinkling your nose.

Johnny pecked your lips. “You are. My angel.”

You looked at him, lying beside you in his bed. His sex hair was immaculate, perfectly tousled from rolling around and from your fingers tugging on it. His lips were plump and pink from your kisses, and his collarbones were decorated in pink splotches. He looked beautiful, he was glowing, and you couldn’t help but grin at him.

“Hey,” Johnny says suddenly, sitting up and untangling himself from the blankets. “Let me give you a massage.”

“It’s okay, babe, you don’t have to,” you waved away his offer. He seemed deadset, however, cracking his knuckles in preparation.

“I insist. Roll over.” You obeyed, lying on your front and allowing your boyfriend to straddle your waist. His hands pressed into your skin, rubbing deeply into your muscles. The sensation was pleasant, you had to admit. Mostly, you just enjoyed the proximity between you and Johnny, and the feeling of being taken care of by someone you loved. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to slip away and ease into the feeling.

You weren’t allowed to slip away for long, however, as your phone began to buzz, startling you. The vibrations against the hardwood of Johnny’s bedside table conjured a harsh screeching noise. You lifted your head, peering at the screen.

You lifted your torso, as much as you could with Johnny’s weight on you. “Oh, it’s my mom. I should-”

“You can call her back later, angel,” Johnny said, pushing you back down onto the bed. The action was gentle, but Johnny didn’t need to use much force to manipulate your body; your boyfriend worked out, and bordered on freakishly strong - at least, in comparison to you. His buff arms held your shoulders down, preventing any movement. "This is my time to pamper you," he explained, resuming the massage.

"Okay," you tentatively agreed. "I'll call her back later." You got the sense that this massage was much more for Johnny's benefit than for yours, but if it kept him happy, then so be it.

“Good morning, angel,” Johnny greeted you. Your eyelids fluttered open, adjusting to the light in his bedroom. With a groan, you stretched your muscles, stiff from sleeping. “I brought you a cup of coffee.”

You looked to your boyfriend, smiling at you as he entered the room, a mug in each hand. You couldn’t be sure how long he’d been awake, or what time it was, but he was dressed already, beige cable-knit sweater and loose jeans, with his hair pulled back in a low ponytail. It was a contrast to his usual greaser bad-boy image, and the sight warmed your heart. He looked cozy, soft. You smiled back at him, sitting up and letting the covers pool around your waist.

“Morning, Johnny,” you beamed at him, accepting the cup of coffee he handed to you. You took a sip and moaned in delight. Your boyfriend made a mean cup of coffee, perfectly sweet without being overbearing. He sat beside you on the bed, caressing your cheek lightly.

“I was thinking we could go out for a walk,” he suggested, before taking a swig of his own coffee. “It’s a nice morning.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

A while later, fully dressed and hand-in-hand with Johnny, you found yourself venturing through the forest that surrounded the house. There were a few man-made footpaths winding between the trees, but for the most part, you were truly in the middle of nature, an environment completely untouched by humans. Birds flapped their wings, rustling in the trees, and creatures whose species were unknown to you scrambled to run away in your wake, paws pounding on the forest floor. Johnny had been right; it was a nice morning. The sun filtered through branches and leaves, casting light and warmth down upon you, and the air was clean and fresh.

“It’s so nice out here,” you commented, looking around at the greens and browns that encompassed you.

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed. “I’m lucky to live here.”

“You really are. I’d walk through here every morning if I were you.”

“You’re lucky, too,” Johnny acknowledged, squeezing your hand. “You’re dating me. You can walk here whenever you want as well.” You smiled, your heart swelling at his words.

“It really is isolated, huh? Your house?” you remarked, peering around at your surroundings. The nearest road was so far away that you couldn’t even hear the rush of cars from where you stood.

“Yeah,” Johnny confirmed. “It’s not easy to get out of the house.” Why anyone would wish to escape this peaceful surroundings, you had no idea. It felt so far removed from the hustle and bustle of everyday life; your usual troubles felt so distant.

The sun had risen higher in the sky by the time you returned to Johnny’s house, and you realised you hadn’t even brought your phone with you. You hadn’t even thought to check the time once since you woke up. This was so out of the ordinary for you, particularly on a Saturday morning, when you’d usually be lounging in your apartment scrolling through social media.

The house had woken up by the time you stepped through the front door. It had been silent when you left, though now it seemed that the entire household was up and about.

“Where have you been, John?” Ten called out, as the two of you entered the kitchen.

“Just out for a walk,” he explained, taking a seat at the kitchen island, where you joined him.

“By the way, Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” Ten greeted you, smiling sweetly.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” you returned, smiling back politely.

Johnny leaned in close, stage-whispering. “It’s really not all that nice to meet him. He’s a pretty lousy guy. Into some real weird stuff. Has probably killed a guy.” Ten gave Johnny a pointed glare as he departed the kitchen, and you giggled at your boyfriend’s antics.

“So,” Donghyuck asked, his voice somewhat muffled as he peered into the open fridge. “What do you guys have planned today?”

“Hmm. Not much,” Johnny answered. “Have some lunch, take it easy.”

“I want to shower first,” you announced, stretching your arms above your head. The physical exertion of your outdoor walk, along with your heated activities the night before, had left you feeling a little less than squeaky clean.

“We should do that together,” Johnny suggested, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek, which flamed at his proposition.

“Okay,” you giggled in spite of yourself. Johnny was the only man, since you’d been twelve years of age, who was capable of reducing you to such a blushing, giggling mess.

“Let’s go,” Johnny invited you, smirking as he stood up and held out his hand. You took it, and laughed when Donghyuck fake gagged and Johnny stared at him with daggers in his eyes. You allowed Johnny to lead you, your hand in his, all the way upstairs. After retrieving your toiletries and change of clothes, you joined him in the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

“The lock is funny,” he told you, leaning over you to fiddle with it. “You really have to twist it-” he grunted, “There we go.”

You smiled, bunching up his shirt in your hands and pulling him closer towards you. He looked smug as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips sweet and commanding. Your hands went under his shirt, ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, which tensed delightfully under your touch.

Johnny pulled away, his eyes scanning up and down your body, setting you alight with his gaze. “Why don’t you doll yourself up for lunch, huh? I want to show everyone how beautiful you are.”

“Okay,” you nodded, agreeing to his suggestion. He captured your lips again, and you smiled against his lips. “We need to shower, baby. And no funny business.”

“No promises,” Johnny grinned, his eyes twinkling. When he took his shirt off, however, your request of no funny business went completely out the window.

Sunday morning came all too fast, as your weekend with Johnny came to a close. It had been peaceful, relaxing, a greatly needed recharge, and you weren’t quite ready to return to your regular life. Walks through the city rather than through the woodland, and shifts in the bar all week long.

"I wish you didn't have to leave today," Johnny said, pouting as his fingertip traced shapes along your forearm as you lounged on his bed together.

"I know, babe, me too," you agreed. His eyelashes looked long, fanned across his cheeks as he gazed downwards.

"You should stay," Johnny suggested, a hopeful lilt to his voice. "Just another day or two?"

You shook your head at him. "I'm working all week babe, it's easier if I just go home. I can stay again next weekend."

Johnny sighs, an irritated huff, retracting his hand from your arm. "You don't wanna stay with me?" he asked, looking up at you with hurt in his eyes.

"It's not that I don't want to, John, it'll just be complicated. You'll have to give me a lift to work, and it's so far that I'll have to wake up a lot earlier."

"You don't even sound like you're going to miss me," he pointed out. His voice had a tinge of anger and it frustrated you in turn. He was acting so petty - you hadn't seen this immature side of him before.

"Of course I'll miss you, Johnny," you assured him with a roll of your eyes. "But we can see each other next weekend, okay?"

"Whatever," Johnny scoffed.

"Whatever?" you asked incredulously. "Johnny, you're acting like a child."

"Sorry. Sorry I'm going to miss my partner because they insist on leaving me."

You shifted away from Johnny, swinging your legs off the bed and facing away from him. "This is stupid," you muttered.

"I'm stupid?" Johnny exclaimed.

You rubbed your eyes in frustration. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to." Johnny jumped up from the bed, swiftly storming past you and exiting the room, complete with exaggerated stomps and a hefty slam of the door.

“God!” you cussed, in irritation and disbelief. You couldn’t believe he was acting like this. This side of Johnny, bitter and bad-tempered - you couldn’t say you enjoyed it. If anything, his outburst had only made you want to leave more. You cursed the complete and utter isolation of the place. You could hardly leave and catch a bus - you’d get lost if you even tried venturing out into the woods. Johnny was your ride home, and you didn’t want to face him. You weren’t even sure if he’d oblige, if you asked him to take you home.

You stood, scanning through your options, and your feet led you out of Johnny’s room. Down the hall, to the room you were sure belonged to Donghyuck. You knocked on the door, two uncertain taps.

“Yeah?” Donghyuck’s voice called out from within - bingo. You pushed the door open apprehensively. The room was smaller than Johnny’s, though still a decent size. He had a large television mounted on the wall, hooked up to a gaming system that looked rather impressive, to your amateur perspective.

“Oh, Y/N,” he remarked, sounding surprised and pausing his video game. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to bother you,” you prefaced, stepping into his room and closing the door behind you. “Johnny and I… had a bit of an argument. I was wondering if you could give me a ride home?”

“You fought?” Donghyuck asked. “What about?”

You sighed “It’s nothing. Something silly.” You didn’t particularly want to divulge the details to Donghyuck - you didn’t want to end up badmouthing Johnny to his friends.

“Hey, sit down,” he invites you, patting the space beside him, on the end of his bed. “Come play video games with me. Take a minute to calm down.” You hesitantly joined him, taking a seat on the end of his bed. “Think this through, Y/N, it’s probably not a good idea to storm out.”

You picked up the controller Donghyuck gave you, holding it loosely. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Johnny wouldn’t be happy if I left without saying anything.”

“That guy has a temper,” Donghyuck commented under his voice. You felt inclined to agree, after the way he’d acted that morning.

“How do I play?” you asked, examining the controller in your hands. Donghyuck leaned over, running you through the controls and rules of the game. The other boy pressed play, and you were flung into the game headfirst, forced to learn and adapt to the fast-paced course of the game. You didn’t know how much time passed, but by your fourth round of the game, you were laughing and shouting along with Donghyuck, all thoughts of smothering boyfriends erased from your mind.

“Feeling better, huh?” Donghyuck asked, beaming at you.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, nodding. “Thanks.”

“One more round?”

“I should probably go talk to Johnny,” you denied apologetically. “But thank you.”

“Any time,” he smiled, holding out his fist for a bump, which you obliged.

“Bye,” you bid him, before departing his bedroom and moving down the hall. You stood for a moment, outside Johnny’s bedroom door, taking a deep breath and bracing yourself.

When you pushed open the door, you found Johnny already standing in his room. You approached him slowly and with apprehension, speaking in a calm and gentle tone. “Hey, Johnny? I’m sorry for blowing up earlier.”

“It’s okay,” he assured you. His composure surprised you, after the volume of his outburst earlier. He didn’t look at you, nor did he turn around to face you. He stood before his dresser, apparently very focused on something inside it. “Why were you in Donghyuck’s room?”

Your eyes widened a little. He didn’t sound mad, nor did he have the right to be. But something about the situation, or perhaps about his demeanor, made you feel a little jittery. You didn’t know he’d been watching you. “Oh. Um. He was just convincing me to stay.” You cleared your throat, feeling the need to change the subject. “What are you doing?”

“Come look,” he beckoned you. You joined him, peering down into the dresser which he seemed so enthralled by.

You gulped. The open drawer was like something you’d find in a museum; it was lined with crimson velvet, and several vintage-looking pistols were laid out in it. They ranged in size and style, the smallest being the size of your palm and the largest stretching to the length of your forearm. “I… I didn’t know you had guns.” The sight of them made your heart race. If you were being honest, you’d led a rather sheltered life, and had never been in the presence of so many weapons. It made you feel uneasy.

“I don’t use them. They’re only collectibles.” Johnny picked up the smallest gun, and you flinched. He glanced at you, and the look in his eyes was undetectable to you - it wasn’t offence, nor regret, but his eyes definitely glinted with something. The way he handled the gun, you weren’t sure if you bought the ‘collectibles’ line. He handled it with such ease and grace, that it almost seemed like he was born with a gun in his hand. Though it was small, compact, barely the size of your hand - and it appeared even smaller in Johnny’s palm, which dwarfed it - you found yourself stunned and shivery, thinking about the damage it was capable of. Did Johnny collect bullets, too? you found yourself wondering.

You averted your gaze, discomfort taking over, and noticed that your phone lay atop the dresser. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You weren’t sure where, exactly, you had left your phone, but you were certain you hadn’t laid it there. “Hey - my phone-”

“Oh, right,” Johnny said, placing his gun back in the drawer and closing it sharply, twisting a key which sat in the keyhole, locking it away. “Your boss called. He said you don’t have to work tomorrow. That’s great, right? You can stay the night - you don’t have to leave.”

You nodded, feeling a little sick but faking a smile anyways. “Great.” You were tired, physically and emotionally. You felt bad for even thinking it, but you wanted a break from your boyfriend. You wanted some space. He was making you feel uncomfortable, bordering on unsafe, and you found yourself craving the security you felt in Donghyuck’s room.

“Um, I’m gonna take a shower,” you conjured the excuse for an escape.

“Okay,” Johnny accepted it easily, smiling widely. He wrapped his arms around your waist, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t be gone too long, alright?”

“Alright,” you nodded, breathing a sigh of relief when he released you. You would stay another night; it wasn’t worth upsetting Johnny over.

You had to admit that you felt a lot better after showering. The warm water had relaxed you, along with the familiar and comforting scent of your shampoo grounding you and bringing your emotions to a calmer, neutral level. You were standing before the bathroom mirror, applying moisturiser to your face, when you heard a click. A turn.

The broken lock.

Before you could act, Donghyuck was before you, staring at you with wide eyes. You let out a yelp, turning around, though most of your skin was hidden beneath your towel.

“Fuck, sorry! I’m so sorry! Don’t tell Johnny about this!” he blurted.

“It’s okay,” you responded, cheeks flushed. You weren’t sure Donghyuck had heard your forgiveness, however; you’d heard him dash away while your back was turned. You laugh awkwardly to yourself at the mishap, before closing the door again and making certain to twist the lock properly. It had only been a silly mistake, you reassured yourself. And he hadn’t seen anything, besides your bare shoulders, which was hardly a great reveal.

You shook your head, before drying and dressing yourself. The poor boy had been so flustered, and you had to admit it was sort of endearing.

“Nice shower?” Johnny asked when you returned to his room, lying on his bed atop the covers.

You nodded, joining him on the bed. “I feel so relaxed now.”

He pulled you close to him, kissing your lips gently. “Jaehyun’s making dinner for everyone, it’ll be ready before long.”

“That’s nice of him,” you murmured, laying your head on Johnny’s shoulder. “Poor Donghyuck, though. We had a really awkward moment in the bathroom, I don’t know if he’ll be ready to face me.”

You felt Johnny tense, his muscles going hard beneath you. “What do you mean?”

“He walked in on me showering. I don’t think he saw much, but-”

Johnny sat up abruptly, causing your head to fall back on the bed. “He fucking what?” Johnny hissed.

“Johnny, it’s fine,” you insisted. “I was wrapped in a towel-”

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Johnny cursed, standing.

“Johnny,” you spoke firmly, grabbing his arm in a tight grip. “Stop. I said he didn’t see anything.”

“I fucking hope not,” Johnny growled, sitting down once more. He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, stroking your face lightly. His hand was trembling. “You’re my angel,” he said. “I don’t want anybody else seeing you like that.”

“It won’t happen again, okay? I’m all yours, I promise.” You placed your hand on top of Johnny’s, soothing him with your touch. His temper, flaring again. This wasn’t something you liked much about Johnny, and you hadn’t been all that glad to meet this side of him. But, you bargained, nobody was perfect - you certainly weren’t. Besides, you had been ready this time; your firm tone and gentle touch had helped to calm him.

Johnny stood up, rubbing his face with both of his hands. You heard him release a shaky breath.

“Please calm down, Johnny. I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine,” he said, nodding certainly. “I’m calm.”

“Let’s go get dinner, yeah?” You stood, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Yeah,” he agreed, squeezing your hand a little too tightly.

Johnny’s rather sour mood remained all throughout dinner, as evidenced by his clenched jaw and the protective hand he laid on your thigh. His sullen demeanor made him somewhat of a bore to be around, and you found yourself laughing and joking with his friends; you’d be happy to consider Donghyuck a friend, and Mark was hilarious too. Johnny didn’t seem to like this, however. You spent the last portion of the meal in silence, quietly eating and staying close to Johnny’s side.

Even afterwards, as you watched a movie with the group, Johnny refused to relax and let go of his needless worries. Everybody was laughing at the movie, but you couldn’t help but notice that Johnny hadn’t even cracked a smile the whole time. In fact, you didn’t even think he’d been watching the movie; his eyes hardly left you, flitting between your face and your body. As though if he stopped watching you, something horrible would happen. As though he were keeping guard.

He pulled you closer towards him, though there was very little space between the two of you on the couch beforehand. His lips connected with your cheek, before straying down towards your neck. You felt your skin heat up in embarrassment, although all eyes in the room were still trained on the television. Johnny wrapped his arm around your waist, using his strength to lift you onto his lap. You squeaked at the sudden action, earning inquisitive glances from Johnny’s friends, which only fuelled how flustered you were. He held your body close to his, squeezing you. His breath tickled your neck, sending shivers down your spine, before he sunk his teeth into your skin. You hoped your muffled moan went unnoticed, but your eyes were shut tightly so it was unknown to you. You squirmed in Johnny’s lap, thighs clenching together tightly.

In another show of Johnny’s strength, or perhaps just his relative power in comparison to your apparent weakness, he lifted you swiftly. The abrupt movement surprised you, and you gasped sharply.

“Y/N and I are going upstairs,” Johnny announced to the group, and you silently allowed him to guide you away.

“Because,” he continued as you two left the room, “I can take Y/N any time I want.”

“Johnny!” you scolded him, mouth agape with humiliation as his boys hollered in your wake. He ignored your cries of reprimand, scooping you up off your feet with a grin on his face.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered, carrying you away to his bedroom. You sighed in fond exasperation, laying your head against his chest. You condemned his announcement of “I can take Y/N any time I want,” but the fact remained true that he could certainly take you then.

Monday morning. You were growing terribly bored of this big, old house in the middle of nowhere. Spending time with Johnny was nice, when he wasn’t baring his angry possessive side. Although you really liked him, you found yourself wanting some space. And so, when you woke up before Johnny, you left his sleeping form behind, pulled one of his oversized sweaters over your head, and set out to explore the enormous house that had become your confinement.

Nobody else was awake, or so it seemed when you ventured downstairs and poured yourself a glass of juice. You felt itchy, agitated. Even when you settled on the couch, the sense of calm you desired simply refused to fall over you. With an agitated sigh, you advanced throughout the house, exploring the ground floor. You had learned that all the bedrooms were on the first floor, and so you’d been wondering where one specific door led. Off the left of the hallway, aside from the kitchen and living area, and the ground floor bathroom.

The door creaked as you pushed it open, as did the floorboards when you stepped through the threshold. The room was dark, though you identified the furnishings of a study when you squinted your eyes. You moved to the far side of the room, drawing open the heavy red curtains thereby illuminating the space and releasing a cloud of dust at the same time. You waved the cloud away, choking.

There was a sturdy desk, littered with boxes full of clutter, accompanied by a rickety chair that looked like it would fall apart if you put any weight on it. You gasped a silent “wow” as you took in the wall opposite the door, lined with shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed to the brim with books of every size. You approached the extensive library, examining the titles. You didn’t recognise anything, apart from a few classics, but it was still an impressive collection. You began to wonder whether one of the boys had inherited the property from an older relative - none of them seemed particularly studious or academic, at least not enough to warrant an assortment of books this great. You trailed a finger along the spines, accumulating yet more dust. The books, much like the room in its entirety, had sat untouched for a long time.

“Boo!”

You shrieked, spinning around with your arms raised in defence, only to sigh in relief and clutch your heart. “Donghyuck! You scared me!”

The boy bent in half, in stitches at the fear he’d instilled in you. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t resist!” You couldn’t help but join in with his laughter; it was just so infectious. Even minutes later, you were cackling while wiping tears away from your eyes.

“So,” Donghyuck spoke, as his laughter died down. “What are you doing in here?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, still smiling. “Just exploring, I guess.”

“I don’t think there’s anything interesting in here,” Donghyuck claimed, looking around at the books.

“Really? It seems like hidden treasure to me.” You peered upwards, at the higher shelves, before standing on your tiptoes and stretching upwards, reaching for an eye-catching book with a golden spine.

“Careful,” Donghyuck murmured, placing a hand on the small of your back to steady you as you strained.

You heard Johnny’s growl, a split second before he entered your field of vision, entering the study and shoving Donghyuck away from you.

“Johnny!” you cried, feeling helpless and out of control as he squared up to the younger man.

Donghyuck had his hands raised in surrender, looking at his friend with concern tainting his expression. “Hey, man, calm down,” he attempted to pacify Johnny.

“Stay away from Y/N,” Johnny yelled, right in Donghyuck’s face

You leapt into action, maneuvering your way in between the pair, palm flat on Johnny’s chest. “Johnny, look at me,” you commanded him firmly. There was a fire in his eyes that you didn’t recognise. It flamed, bright and angry, threatening to burn anything and everything in its path. It scared you, and you resisted strongly against the urge to cower before him.

“Come on, Y/N,” he bit, gripping your forearm tightly. Potentially tight enough to bruise.

“Come on where?” you asked, stumbling as you struggled to keep up. He tugged you out of the room and down the hall, as you tried not to trip over your own feet.

“We’re going for a walk. Put your shoes on,” he demanded, arms crossed, waiting for you to obey.

“I- Johnny- What?” you sputtered. “Can I at least go upstairs and get my coat?”

“No,” he denied flatly. You rolled your eyes, slipping into your shoes. Wasting no time, Johnny pulled you out of the house, slamming the door behind you. You followed after him, your heart pounding with a mixture of uncertainty, anxiety, and speechless anger, as he marched you out into the woods, only stopping when you reached a clearing a good distance away from the house.

“Something’s going on between you and Donghyuck,” Johnny stated with hard certainty, as though it were fact. His face was flushed red, veins prominent along his forehead. He looked at you expectantly, but you had no idea what he wanted in response.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly. You couldn’t help but yell at him. “Johnny, what are you talking about? You’re my boyfriend. I like you. But not when you act like this, Jesus Christ!”

Johnny advanced, closing the gap between you, and you flinched when he regained his grip on your arm. “You need to stay the fuck away from Donghyuck, okay?”

“This is such a huge overreaction!” You tried to struggle away from his grip, but he was far too strong, his will iron.

Johnny leaned in, impossibly even closer to your face. “I brought you here, as my baby, to show you off to all my friends,” he hissed. “And you let them get their grubby little hands on you? I thought better of you, Y/N. I thought you were fucking faithful.”

Your heart raced, pounding wildly with how badly you wanted to get away from him. You didn’t think you could forgive him for this outburst. You just wanted to leave. “You’re fucking insane,” you shouted at him.

Johnny looked disgusted at your words. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Me?” you asked incredulously, finally shrugging out of his grasp. “Me, don’t talk to you like that? Listen, Johnny, I’m not your shiny little toy you can show off to your friends. I’m a human being. And you have no right telling me who I can and can’t talk to.”

“Come here.” Johnny was looking at you, his mouth a straight line, his eyes cold.

“Why?”

“Come here,” he repeated, and you hesitantly took a step forward, afraid to disobey him when he spoke in such an angry, demanding voice. Johnny reached out, gripping you by the arm before spinning you round quickly, pulling you close to him. Your chest was pressed tightly against his back, his arm across your chest, locking you in place. You could feel his heavy, ragged breathing.

“I’m not happy, Y/N,” he jeered, whispering into your ear harshly. “You’re my angel, and you’ve upset me. Maybe you aren’t such an angel after all.” You thrashed, but his grasp on you only tightened. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Johnny, please,” you begged, your voice nothing but a hoarse whimper.

“Let me talk,” he hissed at you. “You’ve hurt me. And I need to show you - I need to hurt you back.”

“What are you- let me go!” You continued to flail in his hold, kicking out your feet but failing to do any real damage to him.

“Shh, it’ll only last a second,” he hushed you, his lips touching your ear and sending shivers down your spine. You felt him fumble behind you, and found an opportunity for escape, but it was no use. His grip on you was iron-tight, unrelenting. Johnny jabbed you in the chest, slightly to the left of your sternum, directly over your banging heart. You looked down, choking on a sob.

One of Johnny’s pistols, the so-called collectible item, was pressing into your skin.

“Right in the heart, Y/N. That’s where you hurt me.”

“Johnny, please!” you cried, struggling in vain. Tears blurred your vision, and spit flew from your mouth as you pleaded with him. “Let me go, Johnny, I’m sorry!”

“Goodnight, angel.”

You heard the gunshot before you felt it. In fact, you hardly even felt it at all. There was a bang, your ears rang, and then nothing. You collapsed, falling limp in Johnny’s arms. His angel.

138 notes · View notes

lillian-lang · 3 years

Text

Zutarians, I need some help...

Happy Zutara week, y’all! I’m Lil.

I’ve been working on my fic for...awhile now, and I’m at the point where everything’s kind of turned into word salad. I’d like to finish this thing, soon, but I need editors - badly. So, if you’re one of those folks who can write. (And particularly if you can write Katara or Zuko’s voice really well.) Please, please take a look. Friendly feedback is welcome!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653406/chapters/62276836

And here’s an excerpt from a Zutara moment below the cut:

Katara looks out from high up in the north wing of the palace—reserved especially for the royal family and their guests. She can see across acres of bleak concrete pavement leading up to the palace gates and, behind them, the jagged volcano walls of the capital city rising in the distance. It isn’t a particularly comforting sight.

Fifty-six bacui berry, fifty-seven bacui berry, …she counts to herself. Until, finally, she reaches one hundred bacui berry, and turns away from the gray window, back towards Azula’s wide canopy bed. The princess’s mouth hangs open and a trickle of drool spills out, but otherwise, she looks better than she had an hour ago. Katara removes the last acupuncture needle from her wrist and places it onto a gauze pad, which she rolls up and hands to Zuko.

“These need to be sterilized in a white-hot flame for twenty minutes before they can be used again,” she instructs.

Zuko puts a hand up to the bundle. A flame appears at the center of his palm. “Do you want me to just—?”

“Sorry Zuko, but you’re not hot enough,” she says, without thinking.

The corners of his mouth flicker upward into the kind of smirk she hasn’t seen since his ponytail days. Spirits, he’s infuriating, she thinks—grateful that her skin is dark enough to hide a blush. She removes the rest of her supplies from Azula’s bedside and takes a seat by the window, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Zuko’s eyes lingering on the back of her neck. She forces herself to concentrate on the little vials and instruments in her hand, but it’s no good. Everything is in the wrong place. She’ll have to take it all out again and repack it later.

“Katara,” he says, coming up beside her at the window. “Did you ever read Love Amongst the Dragons?”

Katara shoots him a wry smile. “No,” she says. “Funnily enough, we didn’t have a lot of fire nation epics in our village library.”

“Azula made fun of me, but I always liked it.” He smiles a little to himself, then points, drawing Katara’s attention to a spot on the grim horizon. “Do you see that mountain, there? The one that curves?”

Katara shivers, drawing a little closer to Zuko. “The one that looks like a claw?” she asks.

He nods. “I know, it’s scary, isn’t it? If you believe the old story, it’s the claw of the great dragon, himself. It’s where the name of the district comes from — Kaa Garr. Great Dragon. And, right there where the mountain turns in on itself…” he moves his finger up the pane a little so Katara can see a black spot in the distance, “is the prison where I’m keeping my father.”

Katara lets out a little involuntary gasp and presses her fingers to her mouth. Zuko looks down at her, a wry glint in his eye. “If you thought my sister’s arrangements were bad,” he says, “you should see his.”

“I’m sorry,” is all she can think to say.

“Don’t be,” he shrugs. “You know my father isn’t exactly a nice guy. I didn’t get this scar on my face from a training accident, you know?”

“I know,” Katara says, reaching up to touch the edges of his burned skin with the practiced hands of a healer.

In truth, they had never really talked about how he’d gotten his scar, but Katara had heard rumors going all the way back to her time in the Fire Nation with Toph, Sokka, and Aang. Zuko allows her fingers to wander over his scar for a moment, tracing the lines and folds on the puckered skin. He gets lost for a minute in the phantom sensation—wondering if he’s only imagining the gentle pressure. It’s so tender and intimate that his breath catches in his chest for fear that a sharp exhale might disturb the delicate balance between them. But then Azula flops over in bed, bringing Zuko back to himself. He clears his throat, and Katara’s hand drops to her side.

“It just makes me wonder if I should be trying to help my father…you know…the way you’re helping Azula.”

Katara tries not to let her emotions show on her face. She does not believe for one second that Ozai is entitled to the same treatment as his daughter, but she also believes that, ultimately, the decision is Zuko’s to make.

“Do you think your father deserves a second chance?” She asks, trying to keep her voice even.

“No!” he shouts, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. “That’s the problem, I don’t think he deserves it! But I can’t figure out why. I mean, he not that different from my sister, is he? But, every day, I felt guilty about Azula, and every day I’m grateful that my father is still locked up!”

Katara watches as Zuko paces back and forth across the antique carpet, winding himself up. “Then you came, and I feel better about Azula—I really do, Katara—but now I’m suddenly guilty about my father. I’m the fire lord, shouldn’t I at least be fair?”

“Zuko,” Katara says, holding out an arm to stop his pacing, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but when was the last time you had a bath? Or slept in a real bed?”

He blinks down at her, “Uh, it might have been a few days. Why?”

“I think,” she says, using her most soothing voice, “that all these big questions can wait for a day or two while you rest.”

He looks skeptical, but Katara insists: “Look at you, Zuko, you’re exhausted. I’m not saying that it won’t be difficult, but I promise it will all seem better in the m-morning.” As she says it, she stifles a yawn, and Katara suddenly realizes that she, too, is exhausted.

Noticing this, Zuko takes the medicine bag from her hand and, after checking all of Azula’s locks, leads her down the hall to her room. It’s hard to tell with Zuko, but he seems excited about something. The corners of his mouth keep twitching up, like he’s trying to hide a smile. The whole of the third-floor hallway smells like fresh paint, even though the hallways look the same as they’ve always been. It makes Katara’s head swim. When they arrive at what she assumes will be her bedroom here in the Fire Nation, Zuko throws open the door for her, and Katara gasps.

The room is in the style of the Fire Nation—a wooden chest for clothes, a low-slung writing table, and an imposing four poster bed, but the details are all Water Tribe. The walls are covered with bright blue paper depicting life in the poles. The furniture handles are all solid, gleaming mother of pearl. The bed is strewn with gigantic, fluffy pelts that could only have come from the south pole.

“What do you think?” Zuko asks, studying her face. “Is it too much? I had rooms made up for the Earth Kingdom and the Air Nation, too. I don’t want you to think I’m abusing your culture, but I do want my guests to feel welcome here. I know the Fire Nation royal palace isn’t anybody’s favorite place.” He winces, thinking about the terrible stain of his father’s legacy.

Katara considers Zuko kindly. He’s hovering just outside the room—neither in nor out. She realizes that she’s never felt more warmly towards the young fire lord.

“You’re a lot like your uncle, you know that?” she says, after a minute.

Katara watches as his guarded features break into a genuine smile. “Thanks,” he says, running his fingers along the edge of the doorframe. “You know I was hoping you or your brother would be the first ones to use this room.”

“You’re lucky it’s me! Sokka would be jumping on the bed, already.”

Zuko laughs, and Katara grins with pride. It’s not easy making Zuko laugh.

“I didn’t even ask!” He says, eagerly. “How is Sokka? And Aang?”

Now it’s Katara’s turn to look guarded. “Sokka’s fine,” she says, trying to keep her voice neutral. “He’s angry because he can’t go to Ba Sing Se without Appa…” Then, anticipating Zuko’s next question, Katara explains everything in a rush: “Aang left for Omashu. He got a letter from Bumi saying that the city was unstable, and he left me and Sokka behind.”

Zuko’s reaction is not what Katara expects. His eyebrow furrows, and he lets out a troubled groan, so sharp and low that Katara can almost feel the reverberations in his chest. “Katara…Bumi is dead. He died about a week ago. Didn’t Aang tell you?”

“Oh,” is all Katara can manage. She plops herself down at the end of the bed and looks up at Zuko, dazed. “No, Aang hasn’t written to me since he left for Omashu.” The admission earns her a sharp sideways glance, but she doesn’t notice. She’s too wrapped up in thoughts of the Earth King.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he admits, lowering himself down beside her on the bed. “The Fire Nation has…informants…in Omashu, but I haven’t heard from them in a few days.” The way he hesitates before the word ‘informants’ makes Katara wonder if he is uncomfortable having spies in the Earth Kingdom. Zuko had always preferred fair-play and transparency, even at his own expense.

“But you have suspicions,” she presses him.

He nods. “To tell you the truth, I’m glad Sokka’s not in Ba Sing Se right now.”

“Why not?” Katara gasps, “It’s not unstable, too, is it?”

“No,” he says, resting his head against the bedpost and letting his eyelids droop. “At least none of my advisors seem to think it is. I’m the one who has an issue. And it’s only a feeling, Katara…”

“Because of Kai Kozu?” she asks.

Zuko’s snaps to attention so quickly that he sprains his neck. “Where did you hear that name?” he growls.

“Bumi wrote about him in his letter to Aang,” Katara explains.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Zuko says, rubbing the sprain. “Kai Kozu used to keep a pretty low profile. Barely anyone outside the Earth Kingdom had ever heard of him… But lately he’s been moving more and more into the public eye. I don’t like it. He’s already got power in Kyoshi and Chin. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had plans for Omashu and Ba Sing Se, too.”

“Oh no! Zuko!” Katara’s hand flies to the reassuring carvings on her mother’s necklace, and she traces them apprehensively. “What about Toph and Suki? What about your uncle? Isn’t he still in the city?”

“I did write to them,” Zuko shrugs. “I asked them to stay here in the palace, but Toph and Suki are out in the country somewhere. I can’t reach them.”

“And your uncle?”

“Uncle doesn’t want to leave his tea shop. And besides…” Zuko blushes brick red, “I think he might have a lady friend in the city. He’s acting like a love-sick teenager.”

Katara watches as Zuko drags his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” she asks.

“I am,” he admits.

Katara leans back into the mountain of fluffy pillows and soft white furs, and closes her eyes—too tired to care that Zuko is still watching her. She says a silent prayer for Toph, Suki, and Iroh in Ba Sing Se, and thanks every spirit she can name for her father’s stubbornness. At least she knows Sokka is safe in the Southern Water Tribe—far, far away from the Earth Kingdom capital…

As she drifts off into sleep, she reaches out to feel Zuko’s warm body beside her—his chest rising and falling evenly. She draws a little closer, and he opens his arms wide to make room for her. She pillows her head in the crook of his arm and breathes in a scent like something out of a dream. In fact, she thinks it must have been a dream, because when she wakes up in the night he is gone, and the spot where she imagined he had lain is awash with moonlight.

#zutara #zutara week #wip #y'all please help

23 notes · View notes

todourouki · 4 years

Note

congrats on 1k+!! can i request for sfw #14 (domestic life w/ them 🥺) with aizawa, todoroki, bakugou, and shinsou? thank you sm!! i love your works :>

AHHH! thank you so much for this, it means a lot! and ugh this is so cuteeee!

Want to celebrate prompt night with me? Click Here.

SFW PROMPT #14: What would living with them be like?

including aizawa, todoroki, bakugou, & shinsou

living with aizawa would be so nice

he’s not a high-maintenance guy

he’s more of a “as long as nothing looks like a piece of shit, we’re good”

matching sleeping bags

the man adores his sleep, i’m sure we all see that

so there’s soft blankets spread over every single couch/lounge-chair incase the two of you decide to nap

every day off, you guys have a tradition on waking up the latest time you possibly could, cooking breakfast together and eating it in bed with a show the two of you are currently binge watching on the tv

aizawa isn’t a bathroom hogger honestly he probably doesn’t even look in the mirror as much as he should

he’s pretty tidy when it comes to leaving his shit where it’s supposed to be

mostly because if he loses it, he knows he’ll be too lazy to look for it and he probably doesn’t have time

the furniture is all monochromatic

i don’t see him as a guy having brightly covered couches in his living room

everything is neutral, black, or white

minimalistic king

due to pure exhaustion all the time, color is out of the question, it reminds him of his students and he hates it but secretly loves it so all of his plates are multicolored

honestly living with aizawa sounds amazing

“Shouta,” you groan, eyes snapped harshly shut die to the light tracing into the room from the now open shades, “close the freaking things.”

Aizawa mumbles right after you, leg kicking the shade he once accidentally lifted with his foot back to where it once was. With the harsh tugs done by his feet, the light in the room finally fleeted away and allowed the comfortable dimness takeover once again.

The Pro-Hero’s arms gripped onto you tighter, nose nuzzled into your neck and bringing your body the kind of warmth necessary within the cold room. “S’go back to sleep, kitten.”

You mustered a smile, eyes still closed and hands running through the silky black hair resting underneath your neck. Mornings with Shouta were always the same— waking up once because of his leg obnoxiously releasing the shades, and both of you falling asleep once again in each other’s embrace.

You felt Aizawa begin to rub your back, fingers twinkling against your bare back soothing you beyond explanation. Within minutes, you felt yourself losing conscience, and you finally drifted back to sleep with the man you loved cradling you with unconscious admiration.

living with todoroki is exactly what you’d think it would be

i don’t mean to say it

but ima say it

this rich bitch has a ton of antique and expensive furniture lying around

mostly because he loves using his dad’s money

you and todoroki are a weird match

because you both love the exact same things

so all the furniture in your home

whether the living room be one color and bedroom be another

it all weirdly goes together because you’re both so good and coordinating shit

like your couch could be fucking orange

and the blue throw-pillows and decorations you cover your living room with just make sense

just like the two of you

living with todoroki means you figure out just how funny he actually is

also just how dense the boy could be

like he’s so sweet but also a little ✨dumb✨

he doesn’t know how to use the laundry machine and he never will don’t change my mind about this

todoroki loved cold soba we all know that

so there is a specific cabinet underneath the sink filled with all the ingredients for making it

that cabinet has to be restocked a lot

usually on days off, shouto would like to sleep in but he knows he just can’t

so if you like to sleep in, he already went out for a run, took a shower, and made you breakfast by the time you wake up

if you like to wake up early/with him, you find yourself either joining his workout or making him a hearty breakfast by the time he gets back

living with todoroki is really sweet bye i’m gonna go cry

“I just don’t understand why I’d have to press so many obnoxious buttons to get it to wash clothes,” he began, his stoic voice staring harshly at the machine infront of him as you stared at him in disbelief, “it isn’t my fault.”

“Shou, you froze the entire machine..” You repeated, a deadpanned expression on your face as you tried your hardest not to laugh.

You knew your boyfriend wasn’t the best at figuring things like this out, he hated to admit it but his family had done a lot for him back home. And sure, he wasn’t a little boy anymore and should probably know how to work a laundry machine, but he was convinced it acted up with him and him only.

“It was giving me a hard time, I didn’t even realize I froze it until I realized the clothes weren’t spinning anymore..” The frown on his face was one you couldn’t help but smile at, the grin taking over your face as you chortled a laugh.

With your empty hand, you gave the boy a kiss on the forehead, his calculating expression trying to decipher the reason certain clothes needed a certain temperature of water. Moments like this made you realize just why you loved Todoroki so much.

bakugou

is a handful

that’s clear to everyone

but living with him, oddly enough, is not

you both have a specific cleaning day

every single sunday morning

and that same night included the two of you watching a movie and having loud in-depth character analysis debate every single time

you both have special cooking days (he has more but it’s ok bc he won’t say it but he absolutely loves cooking for you)

bakugou has been through a lot, my baby

so consistency is something he depends on

he nearly breathes for it

routine is everything in your household, being something you grew accustomed to as well even if it’s not what you’re used to

every day you’d wait for him to get back home on the plush couch in the living room

so that way you’re the first thing he sees when he gets home, as well as a platter of his favorite food for the night and his fav tv show on the tv

he feels like he’s walking into heaven every single day

and depending on your schedules, you get the same thing when you get home if he beats you to it

a show/anime you’re trying to finish, the food you’ve begged him to make, and your loving boyfriend/husband lounged against the couch waiting for your arrival

you both wake up early— sorry, even if you don’t want to

bakugou doesn’t give a single fuck, he will wake you up and force you to either workout with him or start your day with him

on his days off though, you both sleep in until the afternoon

there’s literally no inbetween with your schedules

you’re both either up and ready to go by 8am or finally getting up to brush your teeth at 3pm

“How many times do I have to tell you— the real villain was not Sharpay, but Gabriella!” Your voice boomed, staring at your boyfriend who looked at you as if you had four heads.

“Babe, with all due respect, you’re a fucking idiot!” He retaliated just as aggressive and firm as you. “How can you say that when she’s such a bitch?!”

The credits of the movie you just watched played in the background, popcorn kernels pushing into the skin you had sprawled against your boyfriend. The pink reflected across your shirtless boyfriend, his ears beginning to redden due to the volume of his voice.

“Gabriella walked into that high school and literally stole everything Sharpay worked for,” you retorted, the straw you were drinking from entering your lips as you took a quick sip of the soda, “that’s being a bitch!”

He opened his mouth, signaling you to throw one of the Swedish Fish candies into his mouth and you did. With a laugh, you continued to throw food into one another’s mouth over and over throughout the argument.

“Maybe you resonate with Sharpay so much because you’re both bitches.” He snickered, dodging a pillow that fleeted your side of the couch and into his side by your right hand.

A gasp slipped your lips, narrowing your eyes at his tall figure and shoving a candy down your throat after his words, “maybe that’s why you love me, cause you’re a bitch too.”

living with shinsou >>>> breathing

shinsou is a gamer idc

there’s a playstation in both your room and your living room for game nights

yes

you guys had a game night

every single friday you guys would sit in nothing but (shinsou’s) t-shirt, and underwear and play nothing but video games all day

you usually end up falling asleep when the sun begins to come up, always taking saturday’s off no matter what for the occasion

you both are clean

being too lazy just like aizawa to have to find it if it’s misplaced

the bedroom look the best bc shinsou gets tired of monochromatic things and you hate living in a boring setting

so the two of you’s aesthetic shines through the room

if you cook, then please know food us up to you

if you can’t cook

money is spent 90% of the time on take out

because shinsou can’t cook for shit i don’t care

sometimes people wonder how it is you both manage to go to work and have a coherent sleeping schedule

and the reason is

aside from shinsou’s clinical insomnia )-:

that the two of you are absolute dumbasses

you spend all day doing homework if one of you is in college

or doing the work that needs to be done if you have just a job

and after that?

it’s just cuddling, gaming, struggling to cook, ordering take out, and eventual sleeping when you both realize you’re both past a point of ni return

most of the time though, you both manage to sleep

it’s more surprising for shinsou though bc he could never sleep properly if he’s alone

the two of you live together in GTA

also, I canon that Shinsou loves watching The Office so you guys binge watch the fuck out of that

living with shinsou is living with a bestfriend that is a civilized adult at certain times that you can cuddle and make out with

a girl can only dream <3

The sound of the console played through the room, your focused face watching the screen in front of you intently. The feeling of the bed moving along side every tap of the controller in your boyfriend’s hands trembled your limbs, your eyes being too locked on the screen to even maintain a balance.

“Go to the left, the left!” You pointed out, your legs sprawled across your boyfriend’s chest as he rested his body horizontally underneath yours.

“I know..” His voice was enough to show you he was focused, his eyes barely blinking as he followed your command and moved the character closer towards the left.

As gun shots erupted through the room, all you could see were flashes of red across the screen and players who had been attacked in Shinsou’s frenzy dead against the floor.

Exhilaration ran through your veins as finally killed the last person, the feeling of his body tending under you making you smile in happiness. You had both been trying to beat this level for weeks and you finally did it, exciting you to no limit.

The phrase “victory” strobed against the screen, making the two of you cheer in happiness at the time being well spent. He landed a big fat kiss on your cheek, pulling you in by the string in your hoodie and pressing you against him.

“Let’s beat some more ass in this next round, huh doll?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, pretty boy.”

#headcanons #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #aizawa x reafer #aizawa x reader #todoroki x reader #aizawa #shinsou #todoroki #1kfollowersnight #heillysreqs

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hometoursandotherstuff · 4 years

Photo

Just came across designer John Derian’s 1789 Cape Cod home and I love it so much, here it is, in case you missed it. He renovated it, but left all the age and wear. In fact, when his brother came to see it, he thought it hadn’t been renovated yet.

You can see why his brother thought that. The water-stained, cracked wallpaper was left untouched, and so is all the scuffed worn wood. LOVE it. And, all the furniture matches the look.

Of course, this look isn’t for everyone, but some of us find beauty in decay. You can see the orange peel crackling on the door. That all occurred naturally, with age, and they actually sell kits to make that happen on new paint. (Doesn’t look as good, though.)

In the sitting room, there are very subtle clouds lightly painted on the ceiling. The 2nd photo kind of shows the ceiling, even though it’s an older picture.

I used a speckling kit for the floors in my former house, just as he did on the floors here. It’s very easy to do.

The home has a number of sitting rooms with fireplaces. Some of the chairs are deconstructed and some are slipcovered. I’m not sure that deconstructed chairs are that great to actually sit on. Look at the wear on the coffee table.

These were the original dining room table & chairs w/a raggedy little ping pong setup, which I like better than the new one, below.

The only thing I like about this newer set is the drippy candle. But, maybe upholstered chairs are more comfy for long dinners.

This kitchen sink is amazing.

The kitchen has modern appliances, but it also has that incredible antique butcher block.

Remnants of wallpaper on the stairs.

I could never figure out why that bed is so high. It’s outrageous, isn’t it?

This bathroom is lovely.

This is probably the master bedroom, simply b/c it looks occupied.

Cute little guest room.

This bathroom is very pretty and seems to have been redone with reproduction fixtures.

The house in Provincetown, Mass. that once belonged to a sea captain.

http://keltainentalorannalla.blogspot.com/

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/john-derian-cape-cod-home_n_969074

#john derian designer's home #designer's home #patinated decor #long post

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delicioussshame · 3 years

Text

Have more of Luo Binghe trying to rationalise buying his love interest.

Luo Binghe’s constant pacing is only interrupted by Shen-laoshi’s arrival.

From the look of it, his teacher is too occupied with taking in Luo Binghe’s penthouse to spare him much attention, which is perfect. It leaves him completely free to take in Shen-laoshi himself.

He hadn’t been wrong. Shen-laoshi is so thin he’s verging on unhealthy. The result of too much work and not enough home-cooked food, surely. Luo Binghe would be worried if he didn’t know it wouldn’t last. Shen-laoshi had always eaten every dish Luo Binghe used to bring to his tutoring sessions, the only thanks he could afford at the time, with every sign of enjoyment. Luo Binghe fully intends to rekindle that tradition.

“This is a bad idea.”

Luo Binghe is too fast; he steals Shen-laoshi’s small luggage before he can take it back. “Am I such a bad host that Shen-laoshi won’t even give me a chance to show him hospitality? He should at least let me serve him the meal I prepared for him. It would be a shame for the food to go to waste.”

He doesn’t smile when Shen-laoshi visibly hesitates. “Binghe still cooks? Doesn’t he have people for that?”

Luo Binghe would never let strangers handle his food in his own home. “I do. I’ve always enjoyed cooking, especially for others. It’ll be a pleasure to do so again.” It’s not a lie. He does enjoy cooking for others, as long as he cares about those others. The people he holds dear are just very few.

Shen-laoshi throws a longing glance at the door, but slumps in defeat. “Well, I guess it would be rude not to at least stay for dinner then.”

“And Shen-laoshi is never rude.” Luo Binghe starts for his room. “Here, I’ll put your baggage away.”

Shen-laoshi follows him in a hurry. “Binghe, wait! Where are you going?”

Could he settle Shen-laoshi somewhere less provocative than in his own bedroom? Yes, he could have. He’d thought about it. The last thing he wanted was to spook Shen-laoshi away. He does want to take his time, in his own way.

But he knows his teacher. He’d made Luo Binghe’s adolescence hell with his complete obliviousness to his student’s shamefully evident crush. If his interest is too subtle, Shen-laoshi will fool himself into thinking it’s platonic, which it never was.

Shen-laoshi freezes when he enters a room he has to recognise as Luo Binghe’s. “Binghe…”

Luo Binghe ignores him in favor of setting the luggage down beside a dresser. “This is yours. I did say you didn’t have to bring anything if you didn’t want to, so there are clothes in it and in the closet. Take whatever you want.” Would he love to see Shen-laoshi leaves his bathroom with wet hair dripping down on a shirt Luo Binghe had bought him? Why yes, he would very much enjoy that. Also, Shen-laoshi deserves better than the worn garments he was usually seen in.

But if it’s too much, too fast, he’ll settle for Shen-laoshi’s own clothes stored in his home, like they belonged there.

Shen-laoshi peeks into the closet gingerly. “…Binghe, that’s way too much.”

It is not. “It’s nothing less than Laoshi deserves.”

Shen-laoshi shakes his head. “I don’t know what story you’ve constructed about me, but Binghe must be confused about something. What I have ever done for you to think this all makes sense?”

Luo Binghe could spend hours explaining to Shen-laoshi how lonely he’d been as a child. Struggling to adjust after his mother’s death, terribly aware that what little money she left him wouldn’t last forever, the soothing presence of Shen-laoshi, the only adult willing to listen to him, had been a lifeline he’d needed more than anything. He’d promised himself he’d be the same for him, when he would be able to.

He could, but he’s afraid he’ll scare Shen-laoshi away. He’s been told before he can be a bit… intense. “Shen-laoshi will understand in time. Meanwhile, why doesn’t he follow me to the dining room? Now that you’re here, we should catch up properly. There is so much I want to share with him!” The urge to reach for him, to put a hand on his back or his arm to guide him makes itself known, but he restrains himself. Patience. He can’t spook his teacher, or he’ll run.

Shen-laoshi doesn’t fight the suggestion, meekly following along.

Dinner is nice and uncomplicated. Luo Binghe deliberately keeps conversation light, retreating to familiar grounds, his studies. After all, Shen-laoshi is the only reason Luo Binghe managed to ace the required entrance test. He should be made aware of the results of his hard work.

As he prattles on, he gets to see Shen-laoshi’s walls fall, piece by piece, as he forgets why he’s here to only focus on Luo Binghe’s words. Luo Binghe knows Shen-laoshi has always been fond of him. With insight, he can tell he was favored, maybe more than a teacher should favor one of his students. As long as Shen-laoshi can think of Luo Binghe as that student of his, he’ll happily let himself be entertained.

If he had time, he would have invited Shen-laoshi over to such dinners. He’d have taken him out to good restaurants. He’d have visited museums with him, taken him shopping, walked around the city by his side until Shen-laoshi would have accepted him, and then he would have confessed.

But that would have meant letting the object of his affection struggle through another summer of part-time jobs, tutoring gigs and calligraphy lessons that barely paid the rent. Shen-laoshi would have been stretched even thinner.

Luo Binghe couldn’t allow it.

He waves Shen-laoshi away after dinner, claiming work he has to finish before tomorrow. He, of course, would prefer to spend the rest of the evening with him, but the point of this manoeuvre is to let Shen-laoshi discover his house by himself. It’s a show of trust, demonstrating he has nothing to hide from his teacher.

It’s also a chance for him to find the room Luo Binghe always thought of as his.

He believes it will be obvious. The rest of the house has been professionally decorated, all tasteful whites with the occasional colorful accent.

Shen-laoshi’s study is all soft green and rosewood furniture, a more antiquated style Luo Binghe had always associated with his teacher. Nothing like the modern feel of the rest of the house. There are shelves, some stocked with classic literature, others empty, waiting for their proper owner to fill them as he saw fit. A fully furnished desk with the latest tech. A soft, huge couch Luo Binghe made sure he could sleep on comfortably if he wanted to. Large windows letting in the sun in the morning. A few plants Luo Binghe diligently watered so that they’d be radiant when Shen-laoshi first saw them.

A space just for him.

Luo Binghe thrills as he heard Shen-laoshi putters around the house, the muffled sounds of his steps on the hardwood floor or of doors opening and closing softly obliterating the silence he’s used to, reminding him each time that this is real, that Shen-laoshi really is here with him. It’s a good thing the work he has to do isn’t too demanding, because he could never focus in this state of elation.

He hopes his teacher likes the place, though he’d move in a heartbeat if Shen-laoshi found it lacking in any way.

After a while, the sounds stop. Luo Binghe supposes he found the study.

When, a few hours later, he closes his laptop for good, he does find Shen-laoshi sitting on the couch, engrossed in one of the books.

He smiles. The sight of Shen-laoshi making himself home here is very pleasing to his more possessive tendencies. “I see Shen-laoshi have found a way to entertain himself.”

Shen-laoshi startles. “Binghe!” He sets the book down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, it’s just-“

Luo Binghe cuts him off. “Shen-laoshi has done nothing wrong. All that is mine is his, and these books were always intended for him.” He opens the desk’s drawer and hands him the card. “He is welcome to purchase any book he wants to read, or anything else he lacks. He doesn’t have to restrain himself.”

The credit card is a crass reminder of their supposed arrangement, but there is no way around it. Luo Binghe wants Shen-laoshi to get all he desires, and money facilitates that process.

Shen-laoshi doesn’t take the card. “Binghe, I can’t accept this. This isn’t right.”

Luo Binghe is getting quite tired of Shen-laoshi’s refusals, no matter how expected they were. “Please do. It would make me so happy to know Shen-laoshi is provided for, for once. But it is getting late.” Luo Binghe settles the card back into the drawer, ostentatiously, so that Shen-laoshi knows where to find it tomorrow, when he’s alone in Luo Binghe’s apartment and wondering how to spend his time. Once he’s done, he offers Shen-laoshi his hand, keeping his face blank and his tone simply pleasant. “Will Shen-laoshi turn in for the night?”

He sees Shen-laoshi tense as it becomes impossible for him not to worry about what will be coming next.

The silence stretches on.

Luo Binghe breaks first. “Shen-laoshi doesn’t have to worry. He needs to recuperate. I wouldn’t keep him from his sleep.”

The hand finally settling in his still is a bit unsure.

Luo Binghe decides to ignore it, preferring to focus on its warmth and the fluttering feeling of holding Shen-laoshi’s hand.

“Binghe shouldn’t call me Laoshi in this context. It’s… He shouldn’t.”

“What should I call him, then?”

“My name, simply. Shen Yuan.”

Shen Yuan.

While to Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan will always be his teacher first, he can definitely learn to love the sound of his name. “Shen Yuan it is.”

Luo Binghe lets Shen Yuan uses the main bathroom while he uses a guest’s, and tries to steel himself for what will be coming next.

He doesn’t manage it.

Even if the pajamas Shen-laoshi are wearing offer him full coverage to the point of prudishness, it’s still Shen-laoshi standing by his bed, waiting for him to signal how to proceed.

Luo Binghe bites his tongue until he tastes blood as he himself settles down, and pats the space besides his.

There is no relaxation in either of them, though, Luo Binghe expects, for very different reasons. From this close, he can smell his soap on Shen Yuan’s skin. He can hear the faster-than-average rhythm of his breath. He can feel the warmth of his body.

But he can’t reach for it.

He keeps his antsy hands to himself, instead very deliberately turning off the lights. “Good night, Laoshi. Please rest well.” He needs it.

He doesn’t expect an answer, but the soft “Good night, Binghe,” he gets in response ensures that when he finally falls asleep, he does so with a smile on his face.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #That AU where LBH and SY fail to negociate their sugar relationship

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