#low-flow fixtures

[alt-ctrl]

Elegant Simplicity: The Unsung Hero of Environmental Solutions

In a world teeming with complex problems, we often find ourselves reaching for equally intricate solutions. But what if the key to solving our most pressing environmental challenges lies not in grandiose schemes, but in the realm of elegant simplicity? Welcome to the counterintuitive world of minimalistic eco-solutions, where less truly is more, and small changes ripple out to create tidal waves of positive impact.

The Plastic Paradox: How Tiny Tubes are Saving the Oceans

Picture this: you're sipping a refreshing beverage, feeling the weight of the world's plastic pollution problem on your shoulders. But wait! The very straw you're using might just be the hero we need. Enter the humble metal straw – a prime example of how thinking small can lead to big changes.

The single-use plastic straw, once a ubiquitous symbol of convenience, has become the poster child for environmental wastefulness. But its demise has given rise to a minimalist revolution. Metal straws, reusable bags, and glass containers are the new cool kids on the block, proving that sometimes, the most effective solutions are also the simplest.

"But surely," you might say, "my one little straw can't make a difference?"

Oh, but it can! It's time to embrace the butterfly effect of eco-friendliness. When cafes offer discounts for bringing your own cup, they're not just saving you money – they're cultivating a culture of sustainability. It's like a domino effect, but instead of falling flat, we're building a greener future, one reusable container at a time.

Urban Jungles: Where Concrete Dreams Go Green

Now, let's take a stroll through the city. Amidst the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, you might spot an unexpected oasis – a pocket of greenery reclaiming a once-vacant lot. Welcome to the world of urban green spaces, where city planners are playing a real-life game of "SimCity: Eco Edition."

These verdant patches are more than just pretty faces in the concrete jungle. They're working overtime as nature's air purifiers, heat reducers, and mood boosters. It's like giving the city a green makeover, but instead of just looking good, it's actually doing good.

Take Copenhagen, for example. The Danish capital has embraced the green roof movement with such enthusiasm, you'd think they were trying to camouflage the entire city from alien invaders. But these rooftop gardens are doing more than just hiding from extraterrestrial eyes – they're creating habitats for urban wildlife, managing stormwater, and making the city more livable for its human inhabitants.

But why stop at rooftops?

Imagine a city where every vacant lot is a potential garden, every wall a vertical forest. It's not just urban planning; it's urban planting. And the best part? It doesn't require a Ph.D. in environmental science to implement. Just a bit of soil, some seeds, and the willingness to get your hands dirty.

Water, Water Everywhere, But Not a Drop to Waste

Now, let's dive into the world of water conservation. In a plot twist worthy of M. Night Shyamalan, it turns out that saving water doesn't require high-tech gadgetry or a degree in hydro-engineering. Sometimes, all it takes is a barrel.

Enter the humble rain barrel – the unsung hero of water conservation. These simple containers are like piggy banks for liquid gold, collecting rainwater that would otherwise go to waste. It's like nature's version of "reduce, reuse, recycle," but with more splashing.

But the water-saving saga doesn't end there. Low-flow fixtures are turning our homes into water-conserving fortresses, one drip at a time. And for those with a flair for the dramatic, there's xeriscaping – the art of creating gardens that thrive on neglect. It's like the lazy person's guide to saving the planet, where doing less actually means achieving more.

"But surely," you might protest, "these small changes can't possibly make a real difference?"

Oh ye of little faith! In drought-prone regions, homeowners who've embraced these techniques are watching their water bills shrink faster than a puddle in the Sahara. And municipalities that incentivize water-saving measures are seeing their reservoirs stay fuller longer. It's not just a drop in the bucket – it's a sea change in how we approach water conservation.

The Paradox of Simplicity

As we've seen, the most elegant solutions to our environmental challenges often come wrapped in the simplest packages. It's a paradox worthy of Zen philosophy: by doing less, we achieve more. By simplifying, we solve complex problems. By thinking small, we make a big impact.

So the next time you're faced with an environmental challenge, resist the urge to overcomplicate. Instead, channel your inner minimalist. Ask yourself: What's the simplest solution? What small change could create a ripple effect? How can less be more?

Remember, in the grand tapestry of environmental solutions, it's often the tiniest threads that hold everything together. So grab your metal straw, plant a rooftop garden, and save some rainwater. You might just save the world while you're at it.

If you’ve enjoyed this article please consider sharing it or buy me a Coffee

[techtoio]

The Ultimate Guide to Eco-Tech: Sustainable Solutions for Everyday Life

Introduction

In our rapidly changing world, adopting eco-tech products and solutions becomes reasonably necessary to lead a sustainable life. Eco-tech products and practices are innovations that ensure lesser impact on the environment and bring sustainability to your doorstep. At TechtoIO, we strive to help you cut through the best possible eco-tech options that will make a difference in your everyday life. Let us look at how you could get those sustainable solutions into your life. Read to continue link

[homeimprovementrefferal]

How To Reduce Water Heating Costs

How To Reduce Water Heating Costs - #homeimprovementreferral #Budget, #PopularPosts - https://www.homeimprovementreferral.com/how-to-reduce-water-heating-costs-2023-10/

[delulufortoji]

HOW MANY TIMES? - toji fushiguro

pairing: toji x fem!reader

summary: you and toji have been together for over a year, but every time you say you love him, he never seems to be able to say it back…

word count: ~3k

content: 18+, modern au, established relationship, oral, overstim

notes: i was sick, tired, suffering from jjk brain rot, and it was like 1 in the morning when i wrote this so it might seem like some straight bullshit 😅 and this is like the first jjk fic i’ve ever written, so yeahhh

You still remember the night you two met, the memory ingrained clearly in your mind: it was a stormy afternoon, nature raging outside with branches scratching against your windows and leaves beating on the glass. The sky above darkened, the warm drizzle mixed with the humid breeze. Gray clouds drifted overhead, bringing a sudden chilling wind and shower with them, causing water to flow down the pathways and pool into puddles. The air itself carried an earthy scent, and the wilting leaves from the trees gracefully descended to join the wet ground. The soothing sound of rain trickling down the window added to the enchantment of the moment.

And then, there he was, behind your door, a strikingly toned and towering figure, utterly drenched, his hair clinging to his face, hands tucked in the pockets of his pants, and a subtle, intriguing smile playing on his lips. “Hey, can I stay here for a couple of days until the storm blows over? I ain’t got anywhere else to go.” He asked, his voice low and laced with a hint of vulnerability.

You could feel your jaw drop, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of shyness and amazement. This man…he was undeniably handsome—his bold and quiet confidence, his voice, his charming smile, all of it made your heart throb. “S—Sure…” you muttered, “ you can stay here.”

“There’s no need to be shy,” he chuckled, “I’ll be gone and outta your hair in a couple of days.”

The blush in your cheeks deepened. “Yeah, okay,” you replied shyly, avoiding his icy gaze, “go sit by the heater to warm yourself up. I’ll go get you a towel so you can shower.”

“Alright, then.” The man said with a sly grin.

You don’t quite recall how, but somehow “warming up” took on a different meaning than intended: you soon found yourself entangled with him, your body sweating underneath his touch, his hips meeting yours in monstrous thrusts. The room resonated with the sounds of your moans and his grunts, the intensity of the moment overwhelming both of you.

“F—Fuck Toji…slow down…” you gasped amidst the pleasure.

“Shh,” he whispered, silencing you by plunging his digits into your mouth, “the only sound I wanna hear is the sound of your pussy purring.” Toji's pace intensified, his grip on your hips growing more possessive. You couldn't contain your ecstasy, climaxing as fire surged through your body. His thrusts grew erratic, and his breath quickened in tandem with your movements.

On a high of both pleasure and euphoria, you did as Toji said—you let your pussy talk for you, breathlessly blurting out: “I love you, Toji.

“...Heh, do ya really?” A response less than what you expected. But the wave of pleasure that coursed through your body was too much for you to inject, to express your dissatisfaction at his answer.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Toji's presence became a permanent fixture in your life. He moved in, sharing the burdens of rent and groceries with a part-time job, allowing you to take more breaks. Yet, amidst this peaceful coexistence, there remained a lingering issue—those three words you so desperately wanted to hear repeated. Each time you uttered "I love you," Toji's response fell short, often met with laughter or a casual "Okay," leaving your heart yearning for the affirmation you craved.

You glance at him now from where you are: in the dimly lit room he sits, his eyes stuck on the dull glow of the phone in his hand. On instinct, you make your way over to Toji, settling into his lap, your fingers delicately toying with the fine ends of his hair.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he meets your gaze, curiosity dancing in his eyes. “What’s wrong, doll?”

You offer no answer, instead, you continue to run your fingers through the strands, captivated by the finely sculpted features of the man before you: his features seem meticulously crafted, each detail carefully considered in the making of Toji’s face, from the angular lines of his cheekbones to the gentle slope of his chiseled jawline. His pale, pink lips curve perpetually in a sly smirk, and his dark eyes hold an untamed intensity that ensnares your attention. You can’t help but be enamored, can’t resist the urge to confess, "I love you."

Another light laugh escapes his lips. "I know."

A heavy silence envelops you, leaving you taken aback by his lackluster response. Toji, still engrossed in his phone, finally asks, "Is there a problem?”

You can't help but press further, frustration building. “How many times do I have to say it before you say it back?”

"Say what back?"

You scoff. "You know what I meant." A hint of frustration colors your tone as you shift in his lap, turning away from him.

Toji pauses for a moment, carefully considering his words. "Baby, you know how I feel about you," he eventually concedes, though it seems more like a half-hearted attempt to soothe your emotions.

He doesn’t mean to be disingenuous, doesn’t mean to hurt you with his lack of a response. You know him well enough to know he isn’t one to verbally express how he feels, nor is he one to blurt “I love you’s”, but part of you had hoped that would change after a year of being together.

A frown etches itself into your features as you stand up, turning to the door. "You don't mean that."

“Where are you going?" He calls after you, a slight layer of concern evident in his voice.

"To sleep."

Determined not to let you go, Toji follows you into the room, pulling you closer by your waist. “C’mon baby. You know I ain’t mean to make you mad.”

“But you did.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he croons, resting his forehead on the nape of your neck, pressing light kisses to your skin. “My bad.” He turns you around so that you’re facing him, arms crossed.

“What do you want?” You ask.

A slight smirk plays on Toji’s lips as he inches closer—by now, you two are stuck in an intimate proximity, his breath tickling your face. Just being this close to you is enough temptation for him to pull you into a deep, passionate kiss, his rough hands cradling your face. “Let me make it up to you.” He whispers, his warm breath mingling with yours.

His lips curve into a smile on yours as he presses you down onto the bed. Toji positions himself between your thighs, his lips never leaving yours, not even for a second. His touch ignites a passionate fire as he explores your body, his tongue tracing a scorching path from your lips, down your neck, and further, leaving you breathless with desire.

“Toji…keep going…” As your pleasure mounts, you can't help but moan his name, encouraging him further. His hands explore your inner thighs, spreading his warmth, his kisses become more insistent. His tongue moves lazily down your panties, the subtle friction from the stubble on his chin heightening the sensations. Your breath quickens, and your thighs quiver as he slowly slides his thumb over the moist fabric of your underwear before deftly moving it aside.

Toji's breath, hot and tantalizing, teases your sensitive flesh, his lips hovering mere inches from your core. His eyes, heavy with desire, meet yours for a fleeting moment, and a mischievous smirk tugs at his lips. "Still shy, even after all this time?" he teases, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "C'mon, girl, put it on me."

“Stop talking,” You say, dropping yourself down his face, wrapping your legs around his neck, “just make this quick.”

“I’ll make it anything but.” His response is a wicked promise in itself. You barely manage to hold back a whimper when Toji dives into his task, latching his mouth onto your pussy, his tongue exploring every inch of your pulsating walls.

“Toji…” you moan, gripping his hair, pushing his head further down.

You lose yourself to the sensation, clenching from the pace of his tongue. Your hips begin to move on sheer instinct, riding his face—your fingers are tangled up in his hair, your fists tugging on his soft locks. You’re grinding on him, your body craving every sensation, every touch, every flick of his skilled tongue, and twitching every time something grazes your folds—Toji is so damn ruthless with his tongue that it has you feeling high, like you’re on cloud nine. His every touch, no matter how brief, drives you to the brink, leaving you in a blissful state of disarray.

“To–Toji…more…” Toji’s nose-deep now, the tip of it rubbing against your sensitive clit. He brings his head up, taking a moment to breathe. He’s gasping for air, his face is slick with your essence. He swallows and then after a couple of seconds, he goes right back to sucking.

He’d almost forgotten how good you tasted—a few minutes was enough to get him hooked on you all over again, getting hard at the sound of your whines echoing through the room. His tongue is running laps like a track star, only gaining in speed with each moan you emit. Each gasp, each whimper only pushes him closer to the brink of his desire.

He needed more of your moans, more of your sweet taste, more of you—he had lost himself in his cravings, only desperate for you. His strong hands trace your inner thigh, savoring the taste as he lavishes your pussy with his saliva, worshiping your wetness with his mouth. He laps at your cunt like a starved man–like the taste of you is all the nutrition he needs.

“I’m—I’m gonna…” you gasp, but he ignores you and just keeps going, his tongue working your clit, just the way you like it. He let his eyes close in ecstasy, feeling you as your hips bucked up into his mouth, groaning at the sensation. “Toji, please…” you whimpered, your need reaching its peak. He’s still going, making you wait until he’s finished eating, until you’re a fucking mess—until you’re quivering, reduced to incoherent pleas just to come. After a couple more minutes of teasing you, of edging you, he finally grants you the release you crave. As he lifts his mouth from your pulsing core, you can only grip his hair tighter, gasping his name until you can finally come down from the intense high.

He slides his mouth up to your lips, his mouth smooth and buttery on yours—the sheer thought of tasting yourself on his tongue right after he had just eaten you out was disgusting, but you can’t be bothered when Toji feels this good.

He stares at you, a grin playing on his lips. “You forgive me now?” he asks, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You shake your head, huffing out the words: “Sh–shut up, Toji.”

He looks at you with a cocky smirk, his hair matted to his face, his breathing heavy, but his dark blue eyes, normally cold and distant, are now aflame with longing and desire—he said without words what he rarely admitted with him.

“Open wide.” He says, his voice a low, sultry rumble.

You take off your shirt and lie down on your back, legs spread out—you look so fucking hot for him, sprawled out like this, your pussy soaking wet and on full display. You’re an irresistible vision of his desire, every curve of your form a masterpiece in his eyes. God, he can almost feel himself stretching you out and you clenching, tightening around him, and he’s not even inside you yet.

He can’t bear to wait any longer, can’t bear to hold it in—he’s throbbing, desperate to plunge into you, to be buried deep within your warmth. He needs to be balls deep inside of you, right fucking now. Toji brings out his cock with a groan, and god, is he full and aching to be inside you—only you could ever get him this hard.

He pulls your hips closer to him, dick poised at your entrance. “C’mon girl,” he says with a slight grunt, a hint of impatience in his voice. That’s when he slowly begins his descent into you, inch by inch—he’s not even fully in, but his tip alone is enough to steal a small gasp from your lips.

You stare at him and whimper, feeling him as he forces himself deeper. He is so big—his thick, rigid shaft glides within your velvety folds, leaving you trembling and powerless to resist. You bite your lower lip to stifle your cries, completely lost in the waves of lust that crash over you. “To…Toji…” You’re already babbling as he buries himself balls deep into you. Toji’s hips slap against yours once—a single thrust already has you moaning, salivating at the sensation, arms wrapped around his neck.

With your hand pinned above your head, fingers interlocked with his, Toji rocks into you with an intensity that borders on primal. His forehead is nestled in the crook of your neck, his ragged and hot breath caressing your soft skin, his free hand claiming every inch of your skin as his own. He’s pistoning his hips with a purpose, stretching you open with each thrust, the physical sensation and the raw intimacy between you both like a potent drug. Toji focuses on the tight heat of your walls around his cock, the way your hips meet his rhythm, the delicious way you clench around him as his dick stretches your pussy out. It should be illegal how good you feel to him right now.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Toji murmurs in your ear, his voice a husky, sensuous melody that rings through the room. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’.”

His words are so provocative, so disgusting, yet so fucking hot—they make you want to continue, to keep teasing him with the way you feel to the point where his cock is twitching, throbbing inside of your wet heat, to the point where he can’t thrust into you anymore.

“M-More.” Your whining intensified—his movements are becoming sloppier, his thrusts beginning to lose their pattern as he loses himself in the melody of your cries and the intoxicating sensations you provide. His tip is just attacking your sweet spot, stealing those beautiful noises out from your mouth. Toji can’t focus anymore, can’t maintain his rhythm—you’re just too damn loud for him to think about anything else but you: the way your lips part each time you moan, the way your nails dig into the muscles on his back, the way you writhe under him.

The pace of his hips quicken, the beautifully lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your moans filling the room. “Fuuuckkk—” Toji grunts. Just one round with you has him in disarray—his black strands are a mess, drenched with sweat, his ruffled hair obscuring his vision with how it fell over his eyes. But even in this fevered state, he’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow, his relentless thrusts making your throbbing core scream for more.

“Toji…Toji…” His dick throbs each time his name falls from your beautiful lips in breathy cries, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth. His lips find yours in fervent kisses, his navy blue eyes locked onto yours as his hips meet yours with increasing urgency.

He’s so damn rough with you, but he can’t help it, especially when you feel like a slice of heaven—he’s ruthlessly fucking you into the bed, grunts escaping his mouth every time he does so. You’re stuck in a passionate trance, each strike to your core, vigorous and accurate—fuck, it’s got your throbbing pussy yearning out for more.

“Goddamn, Toji—” You stammer, rendered incapable of finishing your sentence, shuddering with the hypnotizing movement of Toji’s hips, with the intoxicating feel of him inside of his body. His thick cock is being engulfed by your sheer warmth, each pulse only stretching you out more. “S–so good.”

Toji grumbles, and you whimper as his base repeatedly strikes you, his every thrust taking you deeper. You're lost in the heady pleasure, your core gripping him tightly, refusing to let go, making him push harder and faster.

The repeated sound of his skin slapping against yours becomes a relentless symphony of pleasure: slap, slap, slap. He’s losing himself even more, completely drunk off of you—he just can’t help himself. You’re like a drug. And fuck, did you look pretty beneath him, giving him the most spectacular view of your body. Tits on full display, your eyes rolling back each time he hits your sweet spot. He can’t help but breathe heavily when he looks down at you naked under him. Bites and hickeys cover your flawless skin, and shit, did the sight of those marks drive Toji wild.

Toji’s brows furrow together, and the pace of his hips begins to slow for a brief moment. He chuckles softly and brushes a strand of hair from your eyes, his voice carrying an unexpected tenderness. “Hey–I love ya. I really do. Our feelings are mutual.” It’s not the confession you were hoping for, but still, it was his own unique way of confirming what you had been longing to hear—his own way of confirming that he had never felt for anyone the way he felt for you.

With a contented sigh, he releases a thick load, and you feel it deep within you, your inner walls stretching to accommodate his passion. You laugh lightly and pull him closer, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your nails digging themselves deeper into Toji’s back. "F–faster, Toji... k–keep going..."

“So needy.” He obliges, pounding his cum deeper into you. He sighs gently, his lips curling up into a smile against the curve between your neck and shoulder. “Anything for ya, baby.”

[dailyadventureprompts]

Encounter: The Bridgebuilder's Impasse

Frustrated with interruptions to the flow of commerce, a local caravan magnate has hired your party to slay the giant who's repeatedly destroyed the bridge spanning a turbulent river causing delays and costly detours across the realm. The one wrinkle to this otherwise straightforward mission is that the giant is the one who built the bridge in the first place, and rather than hunting a rampaging monster you and your companions have signed on to assassinate a beloved local artisan.

Whoever said “two heads are better than one” never met the giant Gilbult Gultib (or Gultib Gilbult, as he often insists) who far more embodies the adage “Every artist is their own worst critic”.  Immensely talented in stonecutting and engineering, Gilbult (or Gultib depending on who you ask) has been building and rebuilding the same bridge for the better part of two centuries, sometimes letting it stand for a generation, sometimes scrapping it and starting over several times over the course of the same month. 

With a perfectionist streak as wide as the river he's trying to cross, neither head can agree how, muchless when the bridge should be finished, agreeing only that what came before will be insufficient going forward and that they must return to the drafting board once again.

Adventure Hooks:

The locals are of divided opinion about Gultib Gilbult, most regard him as something of a curiosity, as much a fixture of the landscape as the river itself, while others see him as a gruff but otherwise pleasant neighbour or family friend. There's a very vocal minority that wish that he would get on with building the bridge, or else move and leave the maintenance to someone who won't tear it down on a whim, especially the merchants who end up paying an arm and a leg on unexpected barge fees. There's been an uptick in those actively calling for the giant to be driven off, all of which just so happen to be in the pay of the local quarry owner, who's in talks with the Caravan magnate about the construction of a tollbridge in the near future.

Having reached a new low of indecision, the giant has resulted to gambling with himself to decide the composition of this version of the bridge, anteing particular stones against himself in the hope that luck and strategy will let the superior side of his mind win out. This is just as much a stalemate as any other, but may present an opportunity for the party to resolve the situation without violence.

The tricky thing about accepting adventuring contracts from successful merchants is that they're VERY good at paperwork, and while this one did come with a sizeable advance, the fine print threatens numerous penalties (including debt and possible outlawing) if the party don't fulfill their end of the bargain and take out the giant in a timely manner.

Artist

[enemiestolovershoe]

Heii babeee. Can you please do a Rafe Cameron x enemies!reader? They are both well known people on Figure 8 but hat each other but one evening at a gala or something they fight and end up fucking in the bathroom. Maybe Ward and readers dad catches them in the end?

Entangled with the Enemy

Rafe Cameron x enemie!reader

Words: 4k

Summary: a heated rivalry ignites passion during a gala, revealing hidden desires.

Ever since you could remember, Rafe Cameron had been a thorn in your side. It wasn’t just a passing annoyance—no, it was a deep-rooted rivalry that had started long before either of you understood the complexities of disdain. It began at the country club when you were both barely old enough to hold a golf club. He had knocked over your lemonade in the clubhouse, laughing in that irritating way that only a spoiled rich kid could. You had retaliated by stepping on his foot with your newly polished shoes, which led to a shouting match that had every adult in the room glancing disapprovingly in your direction.

You hated him then. You hated him now.

Years later, not much had changed between you. If anything, the rivalry had only grown stronger, more venomous, as you both became fixtures in Figure 8’s elite social scene. Wherever you were, Rafe wasn’t far behind, and the feeling of mutual loathing had followed you through middle school, high school, and now, even into your early twenties.

Everyone in Figure 8 knew of your animosity. Some thought it was amusing—two golden children of Kildare’s wealthiest families constantly at each other’s throats. Others whispered, wondering if there wasn’t something else lurking beneath all that hatred, but you always scoffed at the idea.

Tonight was no different.

The annual Figure 8 Gala was a glamorous event, one that drew all the old-money families out of their grand estates and onto the dance floor, where champagne flowed like water and gossip circulated in hushed, excited tones. You stood near the bar, wearing a sleek black dress that made you look effortlessly elegant. You had a glass of wine in your hand, but you weren’t drinking much. Instead, your eyes flitted over the crowd, looking for an exit. As much as you tried to tolerate these events, they always left you feeling restless.

Just as you took a sip, you heard that all-too-familiar voice behind you.

“Surprised to see you here. Didn’t think this was your scene anymore,” Rafe sneered, his presence commanding attention without even trying.

You set your glass down on the bar, not turning around yet. The tension between you two was palpable, even before you exchanged a single glance.

“Rafe, are you stalking me now, or is it just that you have nothing better to do with your life?” you retorted, finallyspinning around to face him.

He looked infuriatingly good, dressed in a tailored black suit that highlighted his broad shoulders and sharp jawline. His eyes, blue and piercing, studied you for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Always the charming one,” he said mockingly, stepping closer. “Remind me, how many years have you been trying to get under my skin? I’m starting to lose count.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him intimidate you. “I don’t have to try. You make it way too easy.”

Rafe chuckled, a low sound that made your skin prickle with annoyance. “Oh, trust me, princess, you’ve been trying. Ever since we were kids.”

At that, your glare sharpened. "Please. If anyone’s been obsessed with the past, it’s you. I’ve moved on from our childish nonsense a long time ago.”

“Right,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow. “That’s why you’re standing here, looking like you’re about to snap my neck just because I’m breathing in the same room as you.”

“I’m standing here because I’m trying to enjoy my night without you ruining it,” you shot back, voice icy. “But clearly, that’s asking for too much.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You’re enjoying this just as much as I am.”

You pulled back immediately, staring at him like he’d just insulted you. “You’re delusional if you think I enjoy anything about you.”

Rafe tilted his head, considering you with a smug look that only made your blood boil more. “You used to care what I thought. Back in the day. Admit it.”

You scoffed, brushing past him, though he was quick to catch up, his long strides keeping him close. “I never cared about your opinion, Rafe. You’ve always been a spoiled, arrogant—”

“Rich boy?” he finished for you, a sarcastic glint in his eyes. “You keep throwing that around like it’s supposed to insult me.”

“It’s not an insult,” you replied, your voice low but steady. “It’s a fact.”

He stopped in front of you, blocking your path. The tension between you both was starting to draw attention from the surrounding party-goers, who were now casting curious glances in your direction. Some even whispered to one another, probably amused at the latest chapter in the saga of Rafe Cameron vs. You.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Rafe’s question came suddenly, his tone different—less mocking, more…curious. His brow furrowed as if he genuinely wanted to know the answer. “What is it, huh?”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown by the shift in his attitude. “I—what?”

“You heard me,” he said, taking a step closer, his voice dropping. “Why do you hate me? Because, from where I’m standing, it feels like you put more effort into this than necessary. I know I’m not the nicest guy around, but…” He trailed off, watching you with a sharpness that you hadn’t seen before. It was unnerving.

You swallowed hard, straightening your posture as you searched for a retort. You couldn’t let him get to you. Not like this. “It’s easy to hate you, Rafe. You make it easy.”

He nodded slowly, as if contemplating your words. His lips twitched, forming a tight smile. “Because it’s easier to hate me than admit anything else, right?”

“What the hell does that mean?” you snapped, suddenly defensive.

“It means,” Rafe started, closing the distance between you again, his voice lowering to a near whisper, “you spend so much time convincing yourself that I’m the problem, but maybe the problem is you can’t stand the fact that we’re more alike than you want to admit.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but nothing came out. For a split second, his words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a vice. The tension between you two felt different, heavier, like it was building toward something neither of you could control.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you finally managed to say, though your voice lacked the usual venom.

His smirk returned, but there was something else behind it now. Something almost…challenging. “Oh, I don’t have to. You’re already thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“I’m not thinking about anything except how to get away from you,” you shot back, turning on your heel to leave. But his hand caught your wrist, stopping you.

“Funny,” he murmured, his voice dark and teasing. “Because every time you walk away, you always come back.”

A rush of frustration surged through you, his words clawing at something deeper, something you hadn’t been willing to admit for a long time. Maybe it was the constant proximity, maybe it was the years of bickering, or maybe it was the way he stood there, challenging you with every look, every smirk, every damn word. You felt your pulse quicken, your heart hammering in your chest as the room seemed to grow smaller.

You exhaled sharply, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, overwhelming you.

"Fuck this," you muttered under your breath.

Without giving yourself time to think—or regret—you grabbed Rafe by the front of his jacket and pulled him with you, weaving through the crowd. You didn’t know where you were going at first, but the second you spotted the nearest bathroom, you headed straight for it. Your heels clicked furiously against the polished floor as Rafe followed, clearly taken by surprise but not resisting.

The bathroom door slammed behind you, not locking, but you didn’t care.

Before you could second-guess yourself, your hands gripped his collar, pulling him down as your lips crashed into his. It wasn’t gentle; it wasn’t careful. It was desperate, heated—years of tension and frustration finally spilling over.

Rafe groaned into your mouth, his hands immediately gripping your waist as if he’d been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. The kiss was fierce, all teeth and tongue, neither of you giving the other a moment to breathe.

“Always so dramatic,” Rafe muttered against your lips between heavy breaths, his fingers sliding up your back, sending shivers down your spine.

“Shut up,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss, wanting—needing—more.

He chuckled against your mouth, but the sound quickly turned into a low growl as his hands roamed down to your hips, gripping you with an intensity that made your legs feel weak.

Before you knew it, he lifted you effortlessly, your back pressing against the cool bathroom counter as he hoisted you up onto it. You gasped as the cold surface met your thighs, but the feeling was quickly replaced by the heat of his hands sliding up your legs, parting them with a slow, deliberate motion.

His lips were on your neck again, sucking and biting in a way that made it impossible to think straight. You could feel his breath hitch as he pressed harder into you, his body flush against yours.

“You’re not gonna stop me this time, are you?” Rafe’s voice was rough, low, almost daring you to push him away.

“Try me,” you muttered, breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him closer.

Rafe smirked, his eyes dark with something more than just arrogance. His hands tightened around your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours again. "I always knew you wanted me,” he whispered, his voice dripping with that familiar cockiness, but this time, you didn’t bother to deny it.

“You think too much,” you replied, your voice coming out in a breathy rush, and before he could respond, you crashed your lips into his again. This time, there was no holding back, no hesitation. Just pure, heated want.

He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips as his hands slid up the inside of your thighs, parting your legs even further. The counter pressed against your back, the cold contrast making the heat between your bodies even more intense.

Your heart raced as his touch became more insistent, his fingers digging into your skin like he couldn’t get enough of you. And you couldn’t get enough of him, either. Everything about this moment was wrong, but it felt so damn right.

You didn’t stop him. You didn’t want to.

You barely registered what you were doing as your fingers reached for the buttons of Rafe’s shirt, fumbling slightly in your haste to get it off. He broke the kiss for a brief second, just long enough to glance down at your hands before smirking. Without a word, he quickly helped you, undoing the buttons faster and shoving the fabric off his shoulders. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the heat of his body driving you crazy as your hands ran over the hard planes of his chest.

He didn’t waste any time either. His hands slid down your waist, rough and urgent, before they disappeared under your dress. With one swift motion, he pushed it up around your hips, his fingertips skimming over your thighs as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties.

“Let’s get these off,” Rafe growled, voice thick with lust as he pulled them down in one quick motion, leaving you bare beneath him. He tossed them aside carelessly, his hands immediately returning to your thighs, spreading your legs wider.

You gasped, both from the sudden exposure and the way his touch sent a rush of heat pooling low in your belly. Your mind was spinning, caught somewhere between disbelief and pure, unfiltered desire. This was happening, and it was happening fast, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it. Not when every touch, every breath, made your skin burn with need.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter, his body pressing firmly against yours. He took a moment to look down at you, his blue eyes darkened with lust, a cocky grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“I always knew you couldn’t resist me,” he teased, his voice low and dripping with that same arrogant charm that had always made you want to slap him—except now, it made you want him even more.

“Shut up,” you breathed, your hands flying to his belt, desperate to unbuckle it and get it out of the way. The sound of the leather slipping free was loud in the small bathroom, but all you could focus on was the feel of his skin against yours as you finally managed to free him from his pants.

“Someone’s eager,” Rafe murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he kicked off his shoes and pushed his pants and boxers down in one swift movement.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your pulse racing as he pressed his hips against yours, the feel of him—hard and ready—against your entrance sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body.

“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

His eyes met yours, the cocky grin gone, replaced by something far more intense. Without saying a word, he positioned himself between your legs, one hand gripping your thigh as the other lined himself up at your entrance. There was no warning, no teasing, just the raw, primal need driving both of you.

In one smooth thrust, he pushed inside, and both of you let out matching moans, the sound filling the small bathroom as your bodies collided.

“Fuck,” Rafe groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him deep inside you. His breath was hot against your neck, his grip on your hips tightening as he fought to keep himself under control.

You gasped, your nails digging into his bare shoulders as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. The stretch was intense, the pressure overwhelming, but it felt so good, too good. Your head fell back against the mirror behind you, your body arching against his as the tension in the air became almost unbearable.

“God, Rafe,” you whimpered, biting your lip as you tried to catch your breath. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the look he gave you was pure hunger. “Wasn’t planning on it,” he growled, and with that, he started to move.

His thrusts were slow at first, controlled, as if he was savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. But it wasn’t long before the pace quickened, the heat between you building with each movement. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you against him with every thrust, his body driving into yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rafe groaned, his voice rough and filled with raw desire. His lips found yours again, but this kiss was different—hotter, needier, all tongues and teeth as his hips snapped forward, hitting deeper every time.

You couldn’t hold back the moans that escaped your lips, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug into his back as you clung to him, your body rocking with his, matching his rhythm. It was fast, frantic, like you both needed this more than air.

“Rafe…” You breathed his name again, a plea, a warning. Your entire body was wound tight, the tension coiling low in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice thick and strained as he drove into you harder, his forehead resting against yours. “Say my name.”

“Rafe,” you gasped, your voice breaking as another wave of pleasure crashed through you. You were close, so close, and he knew it.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his lips brushing against yours as he thrust deeper, the angle hitting just right, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. “You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

You could barely respond, too lost in the feeling of him inside you, the overwhelming sensation building with each thrust, each ragged breath. Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, as your nails raked down his back.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you managed to gasp, your head falling back as the pleasure built to a breaking point, your entire body trembling.

Rafe groaned in response, his thrusts becoming erratic, more desperate as he chased his own release. “Me too, baby,” he muttered against your skin, his voice strained. “Come for me.”

And that was all it took.

With one final, hard thrust, the tension inside you snapped, sending you over the edge. A moan tore from your lips, your entire body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through you, overwhelming your senses.

Rafe wasn’t far behind. You felt him tense, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself inside you, groaning as he reached his own release. His breath was hot against your neck, his body pressed against yours as he rode out the last waves of pleasure, his hips moving in slow, lazy thrusts.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, both of you trying to catch your breath as the intensity of what just happened settled between you.

Rafe pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he looked at you, a mixture of satisfaction and something else—something unreadable—in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and still rough from exertion.

You nodded, still trying to process everything. “Yeah… more than okay,” you whispered, a small, breathless laugh escaping your lips.

Rafe smirked, that cocky grin you knew so well making its return. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.”

As the rush of the moment slowly faded, the sound of your combined heavy breathing filled the small space. Rafe’s hands still gripped your waist, his forehead resting against yours as both of you tried to come down from the intense high. Your skin was flushed, tingling from where he had touched you, the heat of your bodies still lingering in the air.

Neither of you said a word for a few moments, the silence stretching between you, filled with the weight of what had just happened. You were still perched on the counter, your dress bunched around your hips, both of you completely undressed, the reality of your situation slowly settling in.

Rafe leaned back slightly, his eyes scanning over your face as if trying to make sure this was all real. A small, cocky smile began to creep onto his lips. “That was… something,” he breathed, his thumb gently brushing against your thigh.

You couldn’t help but let out a small, breathless laugh, shaking your head as you tried to gather yourself. “Yeah,” you whispered, your own cheeks still burning, your heart racing for a whole new reason. “Something.”

Just as you were about to say more, the faint creak of the bathroom door opening snapped both of your heads toward the sound.

Panic hit you like a tidal wave, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes widened in horror. You had barely registered the fact that you were still practically naked, tangled in Rafe, when two familiar figures stepped into the bathroom—your dad and Ward Cameron.

The room seemed to freeze for a second. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you stared, wide-eyed, at the two men now standing in front of you. They didn’t even look surprised—more like they had walked in on something they’d been expecting all along.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible, your face flushing even redder than it already was. You quickly moved to cover yourself, but it was too late. You’d been caught. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, mortification crashing over you like a wave.

Rafe, equally frozen for a moment, blinked before quickly stepping in front of you, blocking their view as much as possible. “Oh my god, Dad, get out!” he shouted, his voice louder than necessary, sounding more like a demand than a request.

Your dad chuckled first, breaking the silence with a deep, amused laugh that made your embarrassment ten times worse. He exchanged a look with Ward, who simply shook his head with a knowing smile, as if the two of them had been waiting for this moment.

“Well, look at that,” Ward said, his tone full of dry amusement as he turned to face Rafe. “Took you two long enough to finally get along.”

Rafe groaned in frustration, his face flushed as he tried to shield you from view, his hands scrambling to grab his discarded shirt. “Dad, seriously—get out!” he snapped again, his voice full of exasperation.

Your dad shook his head, still chuckling softly. “We’ll give you two a moment,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement as he turned around to leave. “But don’t take too long. The gala’s still going on, after all.”

Ward followed suit, giving one last look over his shoulder, an almost proud smirk on his face. “Nice work, son,” he said, before closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god, that did not just happen,” you muttered, your cheeks still burning with embarrassment. You could still hear the faint sound of their laughter echoing down the hallway.

Rafe let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s just… unreal,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair, clearly as mortified as you were. “I can’t believe they—”

You cut him off with a shaky laugh, your hands still covering your face. “This is officially the worst way this could have ended.”

Rafe chuckled softly, clearly trying to shake off the awkwardness of the situation. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Yeah, well,” he murmured, his voice light and teasing, “at least they didn’t kill me.”

You let out a weak laugh, finally pulling your hands away from your face to look up at him. “Yet,” you replied, your voice dry as you shook your head. “They didn’t kill you yet.”

Rafe grinned down at you, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “Guess we’ll just have to see how long I can stay alive, huh?”

You laughed again, the tension between you easing just a little. Despite everything—the panic, the embarrassment—there was still that undeniable spark between you, something deeper that neither of you could ignore anymore. Whatever had happened tonight, it had changed everything.

“Let’s just… not talk about this,” you muttered, still trying to shake off the mortification as you grabbed for your clothes, ready to escape the bathroom as fast as possible.

“Deal,” Rafe agreed, already pulling his shirt back on, though his eyes lingered on you with that same heated intensity, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “For now.”

As you straightened your dress and gathered yourself, you couldn’t help but glance back at him, a part of you knowing that whatever came next between you and Rafe, it was going to be far from over.

[ottawacharge]

Jessie Fleming interview: Adapting to the Thorns, her Chelsea exit and pushing for environmental change

Jessy Parker Humphreys, Wednesday, July 24th

Ask Jessie Fleming what topics interest her about the environment and she will start reeling them off.

“Urban planning, the power of funghi, regenerative agriculture, Dan Barber…”

Barber is an American chef who advocates for farm-to-table cooking, in case you are not as looped into the environmental ethics of food as Fleming.

“I started taking courses on environmental science for fun at university and I got down this rabbit hole,” she explains. Fleming ended up minoring in the subject at university in Los Angeles and has been committed to raising awareness about issues with our environment ever since.

This latest pledge comes off the back of her choice to donate the carbon cost of her long-haul flight to the 2023 Women’s World Cup in Australia and New Zealand as part of a 47-player initiative through Common Goal, a charitable movement launched by Spain international Juan Mata six years ago.

Fleming left Women’s Super League (WSL) champions Chelsea in January, going from a league in England where players travel to games by train or coach to one where they can fly thousands of miles across the country every weekend, such is the geographical spread of the 14 teams.

“It’s something I think about a lot,” she says. “As players, we have a responsibility to draw attention to those problems and suggest ways leagues and governing bodies can adjust the format of tournaments or the schedule of leagues to help reduce those footprints.

“We’re all hypocritical in a way, so we need to at least do something.”

There was a feeling around Fleming’s mid-season departure from Chelsea that she had never quite lived up to her potential. Arriving in summer 2020 fresh out of the U.S. college game at UCLA, her stock was very high, having originally made her senior debut for Canada aged only 15.

Yet she never nailed down a starting spot, despite featuring 111 times across four seasons and being trusted by manager Emma Hayes to start crucial matches such as the 2022-23 Champions League semi-final second leg against Barcelona at Camp Nou.

“I loved my time at Chelsea, loved the league, loved England. I just wanted to be in a place where I was consistently playing in the same position and playing more consistent minutes.”

Fleming has certainly got that with Portland, where she has started 13 of their 15 matches so far this season, but the return to the U.S. has been an adjustment. Portland had their worst start to an NWSL season, failing to win any of their first four games and consequently sacking manager Mike Norris. A six-game winning run followed, but with only one victory in the past four league fixtures, it is clear they are still finding their feet as a team.

Those ups and downs are a unique experience for Fleming, who lost only one more league match in three-and-a-half years with Chelsea than she has in six months in Portland.

“It’s definitely a different challenge,” she says. “Physically, it’s more intense (in the NWSL). More transitional, lots of athletic players. But you’re starting to see the effect of European coaches in the league. There are more teams trying to play possession-based, thoughtful football. I’ve never seen anything like how competitive the NWSL is, especially when you look at the teams at the top of the table who had poor seasons last year. That’s not something you would ever see in the WSL.

“The start of the season was especially difficult for us, because we had so many new players. We spent so little time together before the first game — that was a challenge I’d never experienced before. I think we’re feeling the effects of the ebb and flow of the season right now. You have to be so tuned-in mentally for every game, every week. If you do go through a low spell, you have to find ways to turn it around quickly, because getting a few wins will push you up the table.”

The NWSL season is about to be paused for the Olympics, which begin in France at the end of this month, where Fleming will be hoping to help Canada’s women retain the title they won at the previous Games in Japan three years ago. Paris 2024 will be her third Olympics and Canada have won medals at her previous two, taking bronze in Brazil in 2016, but a disappointing World Cup campaign, where they exited at the group stage after one win and two goals (one of them an own-goal) in the three games, has put a dampener on expectations.

“I struggled with penalties a bit at university, so it’s definitely not something I’ve always felt able to do,” she says. “I feel like for that coolness, I have to turn to my team-mates and our environment. I feel very supported and backed up with the national team and that helped me massively during that tournament.”

This time out, she’ll be in a new role as captain. Anyone who has watched Fleming play will know she is not the most vocal on the pitch, but she feels she can bring something different to the role.

“I’m definitely on the quieter side, but I’m learning there are so many different ways to lead,” Fleming says. “I don’t love speaking in front of a loud group of people and I feel like I thrive a bit more when I’m one-on-one with players. I would say I’m a bit of a football brain. I love watching the game, I love talking about tactics, and I’m always interested in how to improve, both as an individual and as a team.

“For me, it’s about letting my passion for football shine through and trying to bring others with me in that.”

[ohforficsake]

The Margay: Chapter 9

Memorize it. Destroy it.

prev / series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: Santiago recruits Frankie to contract for a covert agency that pairs them with danger in more ways than one. A series of one-shot snippets taking place during and around missions.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC

Word Count: ~4.7K

WARNINGS: I'm going to go ahead and flag this chapter as Dark!Frankie / Potential triggers herein for verbal and physical abuse (extreme jealously, manhandling, pinning against a wall, facial bruising, borderline choking), brief mention of self harm/suicidal ideation / Please read with care.

Rating: Explicit 18+ / language / crass mention of sexual acts / mentions of drug use / Minors DNI

A/N: Frankie breaks something.

Finally getting one of these up in time for Frankie Friday. This chapter. Whew this chapter. It came to me months ago. Something that makes you put everything down so you can transcribe this thing from wherever it’s coming from.

chapter moodboard if you're interested

Divider by @cafekitsune!

“Why are you draggin’ me to this, couldn’t you have found someone else?

“I already told you,” Santiago fiddles with his bowtie in a car window reflection. “It’s a favor to the guy who got us this gig in the first place. Needs bodies in the room for this fundraiser. Davis is covering the donation, it’s the fucking least we could do.”

“You coulda brought some girl.”

“Yeah, but I like you on my arm,” Santi quips with a pout and Fish flips him a choice finger.

The room is filled from marble wall to marble wall with standard Washington DC fixtures. The low din of conversation punctuated with the occasional chime of laugher and clink of glass. Diamonds glitter in the low golden light under massive, equally scintillating chandeliers.

Francisco can't help but scan the room as he trails Pope to the nearest proffered tray of champagne glasses, fingers absent-mindedly wrapping around one when it's placed in his hand.

And it's Frankie who sees her first at a distance. Sheathed in a flowing column of white. Black hair is blown out into loose curls that fall down to the middle of her back, face lit up in a laugh.

When she rocks on her feet he notices that her arm is wrapped around a man’s bicep.

Frankie drains the rest of his champagne, slamming the glass down on a hightop table before Pope catches the crook of his elbow and cuts off his path to her. 

“Don’t.”

“Who the fuck is that.”

“The senator who sponsored this thing? That’s his son.”

“That doesn’t make it better, Pope.” 

Audrey hanging off the arm of some spoiled fuckin’ rich kid.

Not that he’s a kid, he’s got a few years on Frankie at least.

But a senator’s son? 

Audrey. 

His Audrey.

Audrey who he’s seen covered in engine grease, cuddling stray cats, trekking through the jungle covered in sweat and blood.

Audrey who warms his bed and angles big green eyes up at him with his spend still coating her thighs.

His Audrey.

She’s clearly playing a game. 

She’s on a job. 

Undercover. 

She’s not herself. 

And she catches him staring heat at her from across the room.

A million watts of light spark across her features and she waves them over.

“Francisco. Behave.” Pope spikes him a warning.

When they weave through bodies to make it to her she greets each with kisses on both cheeks, grip falling subtly to Frankie’s arm as her last kiss lingers. 

“Let me introduce you," she says to the man, "this is Santiago Garcia and Francisco Morales. The boys who’ve been helping me out down there. The Major is, one of my oldest friends.”

“I should thank you both for keeping her safe,” the Major grins. He’s got a California accent and the tan to match.

She gives them his name but Frankie doesn’t hear it. He’s too busy sizing the man up. Guy’s got three? Four inches in height on him at least. Dark black curls, a face that’s weathered enough to betray that he’s never really worked a desk job. Even Frankie can admit he’s handsome. Roman nose, strong brow. But his eyes startle Frankie the most. 

They’re the same color as Audrey’s. 

The exact same shade of green. The effect of it is stunning when they both meet Frankie’s gaze. 

And Catfish can’t get the flash his brain conjures of the two of them tangled in white sheets out from behind his eyelids.

“You look beautiful tonight, Aud,” Pope charms in an attempt to distract from Fish’s tangible simmering.

“I can clean up okay if I have to,” she winks, untangling her arm from this man’s.

“So what is it that you do?” Frankie cuts in, just this side of prickly.

“Marine engineer,” he says, swallowing a mouthful of champagne. “Which is a pretentious way of saying that I spend my days on boats looking for sunken treasure.”

It is an oversimplification at its finest. Because like the three of them, he’s done his fair share of greasing the cogs that keep the world running smoothly.

And like the three of them, he’s greased them with blood.

“I think we could all use refills," Audrey clears her throat, "Frankie, would you be my extra set of hands?”

“‘Course,” he doesn’t realize he grits it out.

Like spitting slivers of glass.

He flattens one broad palm across the small of her back and guides her in front of him in the direction of the bar. He follows close behind, eyes searing into the back of her skull.

The tattoo on her shoulder taunts him where it peeks out from under the seams of her sleeveless dress.

On display for anyone to see.

When they reach the bar, Frankie slots in behind her, the panes of his chest finding her back.

Audrey presses against him with a hum.

She’s nearly his height in heels and he doesn’t have to bend now to whisper in her ear. “A man more dangerous than me?”

“A friend with a Messerschmitt,” she turns to face him, running her hand over his stomach under his jacket.

And he revels in her touch before betraying the way it soothes.

“You fuck all of your friends?”

Frankie can tell there’s history between them that involves more than clunky warplanes and tinkering with old cars and it bubbles up like bile spat out in needless cruelty.

“Only the ones who know what Messerschmitts are,” she tosses back in kind, her tone level in direct defiance of what’s clawing at the back of her throat. 

She turns around again as the bartender approaches and Frankie steps back a hair, breaking contact with her form.

It makes her seethe.

She hands Frankie three glasses of tequila with lime, balanced easily in generous hands, before she sweeps a gin martini off of the bar and leads him back to where Santiago and the man are laughing about something.

Fish hands Santi and glass holds the other out for Audrey, but she sips from the martini without breaking his stare and Frankie instead has to hand it over to the other man.

Messerschmitt. Since Frankie can’t remember his name.

They toast, what a pleasure to meet, happy you boys are keeping Audrey company out there. 

Company.

“Fish, the Major is a pilot, he was Air Force.”

“In my youth,” the man quips.

“I’ve heard,” he drains his glass and doesn’t attempt to continue down the path what Santi has forged for him. 

And so the two of them carry the conversation alone, Frankie staring daggers at Audrey who shoots him the occasional searing glance every time she plucks an olive from the golden skewer in her drink.

A hush falls over the crowd as vainglorious speeches start up.

But Frankie's ears are ringing.

Audrey makes it through one speech before excusing herself to the restroom with a soft hand on Santi’s elbow, and a brush on Messerschmitt’s cuff.

She doesn’t need to alert Frankie because Frankie’s been watching her every move.

He waits five minutes before slipping away in the same direction.

They’re about to pass each other in the hallway when Frankie’s hand shoots out for her bicep, a glance over his shoulder to be sure no one is looking before dragging and shoving roughly to pin her against the wall.

“So is this what you do, when you’re not with me? Fuck senators’ sons?”

“The fact that he’s a senator's son is honestly the most unfortunate thing about him. And what we do is not my being with you. It’s my job.” She presses something soft into his hand. “That’s for you. If you want it.”

Frankie stuffs whatever it is into his jacket pocket and continues.

“And is this part of your job? Hanging off the arms of handsome men in fancy rooms?” He runs his palms down her bare arms before they settle on her hips.

“Sometimes. But I don’t frequent these in my downtime. This is a favor.”

“A favor. To him.”

“Yes.”

“So you don’t make a habit of this? Being this charming.”

“Aw you really think so?” She snarks and Frankie’s hands on her hips slam her back against the wall.

“You like it, don’t you. All of these eyes on you. Driving me insane.” His fingers brush a curl from her cheek. “Don’t play coy, I see how they look at you. Do you beg them for it, Audrey?” 

“They look at me because I’m a novelty in this room, Frankie.” 

And she’s not wrong. She’s a lithe beautiful thing with rich bronze skin in a room of wives and mistresses the same shade of blonde caked in the same shade of orange. She moves through a sea of hungry eyes with comfort precisely because she doesn’t give a fuck about the other men in this room.

Not even really about Messerschmitt. Not now that he’s here.

“You mean you don’t work your way into their beds? Let them fuck you until you’re screaming?”

She scoffs a “no” and Frankie listens but doesn’t hear.

“Is it their money? Their expensive whiskey and the thread count of their sheets that makes you come?”

His hand skates up over her chest, fingers feather-light over the skin of her collarbone that peeks out from under the high neck of her dress.

“Because there’s no way their cocks are satisfying you. That room is rife with overcompensation.” 

Everything to this point has been some twisted form of foreplay.

But Frankie tips.

His hand moves to her neck now, the broad span of it making easy work of fitting around her throat. 

Because some part of him believes this. Believes that Messerschmitt has had her and would have had her tonight if Santi hadn’t dragged him here and it makes him wonder how many others. 

He needs to know how many others. 

Frankie's eyes are blown dark, logic is abandoned in a brain fogged with jealousy. Skin thrumming with possession.

And it’s out before he can catch it.

“How many of them have had you, Audrey?” Rumbled through low registers of his voice.

He uses his index finger to roughly angle her face back to him from where she’s glanced back into the room.

“How many of them have seen you fall apart? Hmm? How many of them have left you shaking?”

His body holds her against the wall, thighs pressed to hers, his elbow jammed painfully in the sparse space between them where he holds her. 

And Audrey just watches, gaze angled down her nose.

Amused.

Frankie’s a man in a trance as he runs the pad of his thumb over the lush of her bottom lip, hot breath following its path.

“Have they seen the way your mouth falls open when you clench around them? Do they know that you can see these little fucking teeth when you do,” he snarls it, sliding his thumb over her top incisors before slipping it farther to slide over her tongue.

He tastes of lime and ozone.

“How many of them have come in this pretty little mouth, Audrey?” Frankie presses down with his thumb to open it wider. 

She could bite down. She could box his ears and take out an eardrum or both. She could throw a knee into his crotch.

She could scream.

She’s not going to.

Not yet.

But she could. 

He adjusts his grip and his middle finger and thumb dig painfully into the space at the hinge of her jaw and he gives her head a small shake, voice dripping with condescension. “Do you swallow for them, or is that just for me?” 

And it should frighten her. The way her sweet soft Frankie has gone dark. 

The way he’s a hair’s breadth away from squeezing down on her pulse.

The way he could crush her jaw with the strength of his hand alone.

But this? 

This is always there. 

Churning under the surface until it heats enough to boil.

It's what she loves about him.

“Do you let them come inside you too? Let them empty their balls into your hot little cunt and leave you dripping?” He shifts one leg to the outside of hers to press her further into the wall with his body.

And it should terrify her, this being caged in, his fingers jammed hard into her mandible as he spits and seethes with equal parts disdain and infatuation.

“Do they fill you up like I do? With as much as I do?”

The hard line of Frankie’s cock pressed against her hip telegraphs unyielding, sick pleasure.

“Do they fuck you better than I do, Audrey?”

“There is no ‘they’ Frankie.”

“Oh? Well then. Does that man. Out there. Fuck you. Better than I do.” His arm twitches with each sentence, moving her head with it.

She should be ashamed of how wet she is.

“Would you let him come down your throat the way that you let me?” 

And she doesn’t dare give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“I know he doesn’t eat you out the way that I do. Doesn’t make you come on his face.” He presses his nose to her cheek, breathing in the scent of her. “I can tell.”

“But I bet he’d still give it to you. If you wanted him to.”

He doesn’t realize that he’s growling with every breath.

“I don’t want...”

“But would he. Fuck you.” 

“Yes.”

And Frankie’s nostrils flare and a breath hisses through his teeth.

His hold on her tightens.

“Yeah, I bet he would. Because you’re a fuckin’ toy. A pretty little plaything to be used when the need strikes and then…” he trails off. “He’d fuck you but he wouldn’t keep you.”

“Yeah—" he growls.

"I wouldn’t either.”

And Frankie says it because he’s frothing with impotence at what he doesn’t have to offer.

Any one of these men could give her the world. 

They paid $14K just to stand in this room. 

But Frankie wouldn’t keep her because Frankie doesn’t deserve her. 

And Frankie makes it her fault. 

Lashing out at her for the way she consumes him.

And all of this. This is trying to prove himself with his body where the rest of him falls short.

Because it’s all he knows.

The Delta who gave his body to the Stars and Stripes in search of validity and purpose and a place in this world. 

And those colors chewed him up and spat him out tasting like a bad back and a coke problem.

But he’s taken it too far now.

Still gripping hard at her jaw.

And her scorpion’s tongue delivers a barb that sticks right in the spot in his brain where he’s regretted it every moment of his existence since that night.

“You going to strangle me again, Francisco?”

The antidote to his fever.

“No,” the grip on her loosens.

The fight drains through the soles of his feet and back to the earth to be transmuted into something that doesn’t destroy.

He breathes without snarling.

And rests his forehead against hers before taking half a step back.

And she tips her face to hover her lips over his but neither of them move any farther.

They just breathe.

Looking like lovers to anyone who is watching.

She brushes a hand over the napkin slipped into his jacket pocket. “Memorize it. Or don’t. But destroy it either way.”

And Audrey slips from between him and the wall.

Frankie doesn’t move to turn around, instead bracing his forearm against wallpaper, listening to her heels on marble as she returns to the bathroom.

“And Frankie,” she calls over her shoulder, staving off the shattering of her voice. “Please be nice.”

He snorts as he spins and leans heavy against drywall, head thudding backwards. He scrubs a palm down his face and breathes deep, trying to bring himself back to even.

Trying to stave off the panic winding around his organs.

Threatening to constrict.

He has no idea what just happened. 

Frantic fingers scramble for the thing in his pocket.

A napkin that he unfolds. 

An address in Alexandria.

Her address.

He storms off to the gents and into a stall, mentally repeating the numbers and letters until it’s ingrained before he drops it in the toilet bowl. Blue ink bleeds into something illegible before he flushes it away.

His stomach turns and for a moment he thinks tequila is going to follow it. 

Frankie breathes in hard through his nose and out with a hiss, storming out of the stall to splash cold water into his face.

He prays he hasn’t left a bruise.

_____

“You good?” Santi whispers when Audrey slips in beside him.

“Yeah, do I look fine?”

He gives her a quick once-over. “Physically, yes. Spiritually?” Pope tips his glass of tequila towards her hand and she drains it as applause breaks out at the end of another speech.

“He okay?”

“Dunno.”

Santiago casts a look over his shoulder towards the bathrooms.

“Come, let me get you another,” he gently presses an open palm to Audrey's elbow, leading her to the bar. 

“Gin and soda.” Santi knows her and joins. “Two."

Santi knows the two of them well enough to hit on what just happened. "That really spun him up, huh?”

“Never meant to. I’ve known the Major for over twenty years, I came as a favor. He’s one of the few people on earth who knows what I actually do.”

“It’s not a fucking crime to be comfortable around someone," she adds in a soft voice. "I had no idea you were going to be here.”

“Sort of a favor on our end as well.” Santiago slips a tip into the glass jar as the bartender slides over two drinks.

Audrey swallows a sip, letting the ice cold liquid chill her burning stomach.

“I was fucking happy when I saw you both.”

And she sounds like she's about to fracture.

“Hey.”

Santi’s eyes are soft, heavy-lidded as is his way when he’s sincere.

“He’s an idiot when it comes to this.”

She scoffs and takes another sip.

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of him.”

“That’s very kind Santi, but I can do it myself.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“No.”

“Yeah, your jaw is starting to bruise.”

“Fuck,” and she adjusts her hair to fall where Frankie’s fingers were with Pope calmly directing her movements.

To anyone else they’re making conversation. 

But to anyone who knows, Pope is fuming and Audrey’s a frayed nerve.

And Messerschmitt knows and Messerschmitt would kill for her, but only if she says the word.

And she doesn’t.

“Let’s get you some food, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She has no appetite but she takes the arm Santi offers because he’s the only person Frankie won’t murder tonight and he guides her towards the nearest waiter with a tray of canapés.

For the first time in the two years that he’s known her, Santi realizes that Audrey can’t take care of herself right now. 

She’s unfocused, eyes darting around the room with none of their usual calculated discernment.

Big, liquid things. Fighting the threat of overflow.

Whatever the fuck Frankie just said.

He broke her. 

And so Santiago spends the rest of the night putting his body between her and Fish, and Fish knows that Santi knows something, the shame of it heating the tips of Frankie’s ears.

Audrey doesn’t stick around long after speeches are through.

She takes her leave after wrapping Santiago in a grateful embrace, kissing Messerschmitt on the cheek, and squeezing Frankie’s arm.

He can tell that was for appearances’ sake and he knows better than to follow right after her.

In the end he plays well in the sandbox. So well, in fact that he strikes up a conversation with the Major. They talk of helicopters and Immelmann maneuvers and they bore Santiago enough that he abandons them for a pretty blonde at the bar.

And Catfish shakes Messerschmitt’s hand when he leaves.

But he still doesn’t know his name.

_____

Frankie crawls back to her at midnight like a shamed thing with his tail between his legs.

She opens the door to find his hands stuffed in his pockets, doe eyes back on full display.

And Audrey wishes she hadn’t handed him that napkin.

But she also wishes for the confirmation that he offers now.

That they’re going to be okay.

In their own, fucked up kind of way.

She invites him inside without saying a word and he doesn’t reach out for her as he steps into darkness.

City lights filter in through large windows, but a candle on the coffee table is the only thing lighting his way.

She’s just been sitting in the dark. 

And he stands in her home that he can’t see, somewhere between her living room and her kitchen, watching her move from the bar to the fridge and back again, still clad in her white evening gown.

Like a ghost in the night. 

She hands him tequila and scoops the dregs of her martini off of the coffee table, downing it before heading for the sink.

He catches her arm on the way, holding her on the tips of his fingers, waiting for her to move. 

She stops but doesn’t lean in. 

“I’m sorry.” Frankie whispers. 

And the candlelight catches in her eyes when she looks to him.

For my jealously. For what I said. The questions I asked. 

For insinuating that you’re a whore.  

But instead “I’m sorry” is all he repeats on a sigh as he lets her go and to his surprise she reaches to wrap an arm around his neck, pressing her body to his, burying her face in his collar.

It takes him a moment before he holds her back, biceps squeezing around her ribs. 

And feeling bursts from his chest with a sob. 

“I’m sorry, cariño, I’m sorry,” he kisses against her hairline, seeking forgiveness in her mouth. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” is all he gets in return. “Alone.”

And she leaves Frankie standing backlit by city light, looking for all the world like a man-shaped void in her home.

Frankie thinks he should leave.

He wants desperately to run from this pain of his own creation, slip into drink in his own hotel room and pass out on the floor.

It can’t be that hard to find coke in DC.

And the thought scares him enough to make him stay. 

He forces himself to move on legs of lead to collapse on her couch, screwing the heels of his palms into his eyes, listening to water against tile where she’s left the bathroom door open. 

Audrey returns to him in a black linen robe, wet hair smelling of white flowers. 

Darkness unfurls into night-blooming florals.

The same darkness that dry-rots him from the inside out, leaving nothing but a cloud of cheap blow behind every time something collapses.

And her manicured feet enter Frankie’s frame of view, but he doesn’t look up until she kneels down, reaching her hand to cup his scruffy jaw and tip his face to hers.

He’s crying.

She thumbs one tear from his cheek before it’s replaced with another.

Frankie engulfs her hand with his, turning to press a kiss to her palm.

“We don’t work here, Francisco.”

And she skates around her issue to get to the heart of their issue. 

She’ll deal with herself later.

What they have doesn’t belong here. 

In city lights, where people wear diamonds and Rolexes. Where mistresses and wives are the ones making deals to keep everything running smoothly. 

Here where she moves with practiced ease. 

Here where he’s lost in words that don’t mean what they say and smiles that lash instead of soothe.

Where the air draws cruel things from his throat.

“I know.”

They never intended to bring it here.

“Forgive me.” He whispers.

Forgive me the delusion.

“Forgive me, Audrey.”

Forgive me my words.

“Forgive me,” panted against her mouth, foreheads pressed flush.

Forgive me and show me you still care.

Because I don’t. 

Not about my body, not about my soul, and I might damn them both tonight if you don’t forgive me.

But he’s still asking on his behalf.

“Audrey, please. Please,” he sobs. 

I don’t know why I’m like this.

I don’t know where else to go.

Take me back. To before I bruised.

Bruises that blossom on her jaw now in low light.

But bruises were how they started.

And she takes his hands in her own and leads him to her bedroom where she strips layers from him. Rids him of wool and cotton and lays him in linen sheets.

She fits against his back, arm around a chest that can’t find steady breath. Audrey presses kisses to the back of his neck. Strokes his hair until sleep briefly takes him.

Like the warm body that she is.

And in the night he finds her, heated palms on her stomach, pulling her weight to rest on his hips but she peels his fingers from her skin and rolls back to her side of the bed.

He knows why he came here.

To fix what he’s done but he doesn’t know where to start sewing up the damage. 

He ripped too deep.

And Frankie doesn’t know what else to do but offer his body and allow her to take what she needs.

To allow himself to be a body for her to use after his words and his fingers implied she was the same.

And she knows none of it’s true but she can’t help but feel it.

The love she doesn’t know how to give. 

The family she’ll never have because she knows nothing more than how to bring death into the world.

But from where Frankie lies, tonight what she needs isn’t him.

And it brings a fresh, heaving wave of regret to crash through his chest.

_____

“I was engaged once,” she offers hours later as the blue beginnings of dawn start to light the room because she knows Frankie is still awake behind her.

“To him?”

“To a man more dangerous than you.”

“What h— what happened?”

“We were playing house in a home that was never ours.” 

“We’re brutal things. Where he tries now to atone for his sins, I lean into them. We were never set up to work.”

“What does he do.”

And she doesn’t answer that particular question when she starts again.

“He was a Delta too, once upon a time.”

“What was his name?”

“Spencer.”

And it’s like a gift. Frankie knew of a Spencer who had made rank before him. Knew of the whispers that spread like wildfire through barracks of a ghost of a man who could do the impossible and he wonders if they’re one and the same.

Not unlike the woman in his arms.

“And now?”

“Sometimes we find each other on nights that get too dark. Sometimes we save one another.”

Lives and souls.

“But most times we’re nothing more than memories and whispered wishes in each other’s general directions. Each one of us hoping the other is still alive.”

“He would take you back?”

And Frankie doesn’t understand his fixation on this question, because she’s not his and never claimed to be. 

But pieces of her live in the hearts and beds of other men and he desperately wants all of her for himself.

A wildcat in a cage.

A taxidermied husk with glass eyes.

A pelt to drape himself in.

He doesn’t ever ask if she would have them.

“Everyone would take me back, Frankie,” she pulls the duvet up to her ear.

“Because I’m always the one who leaves.”

“Will you leave me?”

It hangs in the air. Unanswered.

And he knows now.

She will leave.

And he will be another man who holds another piece of her.

And she will continue giving away whatever pieces of her that men will take.

Until there’s nothing left.

Nothing but murmured whispers of a ghost.

And pieces of her memory.

_____

When daylight comes, Frankie blinks hard at where sunrise streams through sheers.

Reaching out for warmth before dread blooms in his chest.

Audrey’s gone. 

It’s her house and she’s gone.

And he bolts from the bed, searching for signs that she’ll return. 

But he finds no note, no text, no sign.

Audrey’s left him.

next

_____

Author's Post Script: Messerschmitt and Spencer are actual characters that I've borrowed to play with for a moment, all credit to their original owners. Feel free to slide your guesses into my DMs if you're so inclined. Or just want to chat after all of that.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @missladym1981 @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @toomanytookas @spookyxsam

Also again taking the risk to tag some lovely folks who have shown interest in this here little story. As always, please do let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged:

@tinytinymenace @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @theshensei @iamskyereads @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @soft-persephone @julesonrecord @criticalarchitecture @oliveksmoked @jessthebaker @tanzthompson @youandmeand5bucks @ems-chaos-corner @thethirstwivesclub @76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute

Please note that old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted here at Ohforficsake.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

[f1tyreslightmyfyre]

Immortal Artistry - Ch. 9 - Destroy It

Series Main List

A Vampire AU F1 Fic Featuring Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader, George Russell x Fem!Reader, hints of Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader, Lestappen, Sebchal, and Sainzell (or Russainz?)

Also on AO3

Ch. 9 Warnings: Sexual content; language; vampire blood violence

A/N: Thank you for reading this fic! Hope you enjoy this option 😄❤

Ch. 9 - Destroy It

2023

Balling your hand into a fist, you summon your nerve before reaching out for the pen. Tucking it close to your side, you push up from the conference room chair and head for the door. Your heart hammers in your throat as the walk down the hallway suddenly seems endless.

But as your fingers finally graze the cool metal handle of the rubbish chute, you work a hard swallow down your throat. Drawing a deep breath, you quickly pull the chute open and throw the pen in before you can rethink it. It clunks off the chute’s metal walls as it falls, and your eyes sink closed as a wave of relief washes over you.

It’s done. And now… now, it’s over.

Now perhaps Charles, George, Carlos – hell, even Max – will all leave you alone. They can continue to duke it out over eternity - to move their chess pieces around the board in hopes of achieving checkmate – and you can get back to your life. Such as it is, at least.

Perhaps you’ll be assigned a new boss soon. Perhaps you’ll have some new engrossing case that you can immerse yourself in. But perhaps, first, you’ll need a bottle of wine to help you forget the madness of the last four days – or even just this morning of having a vampire-chef’s  hamburger for breakfast.

The thought teases an incredulous smile to your face as you return to your office. Exhaling deeply to help calm your mind, you return to the open email you tried to write earlier and find the words flow easier now. You continue to work through the other items in your inbox, even taking the time to actually focus on reading an article and looking up a couple of references. Tension bleeds from your shoulders as your body relaxes against your desk chair with a strange sense of ease and freedom. 

Because now you are free. Without that pen – without that film – there’s nothing that either Charles or George could want from you. And while part of you may always wonder what else they’re up to in the world, the rest of you will be grateful not to be involved.

Hours of peaceful productivity pass until the sun settles low in the sky. Powering down your laptop, you reach for your bag and glance out the window at the last rays of twilight. A prickle of fear runs down your spine even though it shouldn’t… there’s nothing more that you have to fear from the undead, and you certainly can’t live the rest of your life scared to go out at night.

The elevator descends to the parking garage with a dull hum, opening to the elevator lobby that buzzes with the distant sound of the sodium-vapor lamps. You squint against the monochromatic color that bounces off the concrete surroundings as you push out into the humid night. A sparse collection of cars surrounds yours and your heels echo off the concrete surface – until gravel crunches and echoes from the distance, followed by a low scuffing thud. 

You freeze, eyes widening as every survival instinct jumps to high alert. Gripping your bag tight, you dart your gaze around, seeking out any sign of a shadow or movement. But nothing looks different… and you still appear to be completely alone. Your mouth goes dry as your heart pounds and an eerie feeling creeps down your spine.

Just because you can’t see anyone sure as hell doesn’t mean that you’re alone.

“H-hello…?” You call out, trying to keep the concerned quaver out of your voice. “George…? … Max?”

Only the ubiquitous buzzing of the light fixtures greets you. Maybe it was just some other employee on a lower level… or a stray cat or a mouse…? Or maybe you are just slowly losing your mind. Hell, if the security guard is watching you on the camera feed, they probably certainly think you’re crazy.

Wetting your top lip nervously as you continue to look around for anything suspicious, you decide to go for broke. “I don’t have it.” You say clearly. “I destroyed it, and now… now, no one has it.”

You have no idea if anyone is even in earshot or if you’re talking to the wind, but it marginally helps you relax. Even just saying it aloud – especially if someone does lurk unseen in the shadows – helps calm your unease. It reminds you of the finality of your decision and there’s nothing anyone can do to reverse it.

Exhaling shakily, you continue to your car and slide into the driver’s seat – quickly locking the door behind you. The engine revs to life and you take off into the night, heading straight for your apartment. Your unease fades the closer you get to home, and after killing the engine, you don’t think twice about exiting your car. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you reach for your keys as you approach your apartment building.

A strong hand wraps around your upper-arm, dragging you close against a tall, lean chest. You gasp as your eyes connect with George’s handsome profile in the streetlight, his face a mask of hard determination as he falls into step with you. Or at least, he tries to, but your feet forget how to move as he all but drags you along.

“Come along now, darling.” He purrs softly, tucking you closer against his side in parody of a couple’s embrace. “We have much to discuss.”

Your mind spins as you try to keep up, to possibly understand what he’s doing here. “We – there’s nothing more to discuss.” You shake your head, trying to keep the fearful stammer from your voice. “I-I destroyed it. Did you… did you already hear me say that?”

He gives a reprimanding shake of his head, squeezing his hand in forceful encouragement as you all but stumble up the stairs. “This is hardly the place.”

“And w-why not?” You grip your keys tighter as you steadily approach the building door. “It’s done – it’s over.”

“It’s hardly over.” George counters, nodding towards the door. “Open it.”

Fear courses down your spine as your heart races. “I don’t want to.”

George turns towards you with a cold expression mirrored in his glacial eyes. “Either you do it of your own free will, or I’ll make you. Your choice.”

Your mouth goes dry as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. Fighting to steady your trembling fingers, you jam the key into the lock and the door falls open to reveal the pleasant hallway within. The old building isn’t grandiose by any means, but now the lack of a front desk and night guard strikes you as a poor decision. 

The strength of George’s grip tightens as he ushers you inside and down the small hallway, leading you straight to the narrow staircase. Your stomach sinks to your feet as he drags you up the stairs - knowing just exactly how to get to your apartment. “George,” you breathe, trying not to sound too desperate. “Please, let me go… I have nothing for you.” 

“Oh, we both know that’s not true.” He says as you both step out into the second floor hallway. 

You debate screaming, or clawing at his perfect features - something, anything to bring the neighbors running. Perhaps if they outnumber him, that would be too much exposure for him. Or perhaps he’d just kill you on the spot before making his escape. A tear stings your eye as you try to stall the movement of your feet, but the increased pressure on your arm tears a whimper from your throat. 

Up ahead, a door opens - and thank God for Paulette Masterson. You’d never had any strong feelings about your older neighbor across the hall, but now, you think you might love her just a little bit. Your eyes meet hers, and her face brightens with concerned alarm.

“Oh, my god!” She cries in a heavy French accent, glaring at George. “You - you unhand her this instant!” 

Your bottom lip trembles as you draw a shaking breath. “Paulette, please-” Your voice chokes up in a pained gasp as George’s grasp tightens in silent warning and he lunges forward. His other hand snatches Paulette’s jaw and he looms over her with his impressive height. 

“Look at me.” He commands in a velvety purr as Paulette stares back at him as if stunned. “That’s right.” His words sound in a steely whisper as he stares her down and her eyes turn glossy. “Now, return to your apartment and forget that you ever left.” 

“N-no!” The shaking word leaves your lips before you can stop it and a tear leaks down your cheek. Wordlessly, Paulette turns from George’s grasp and shuffles with zombie-like motions back to her own apartment. The front door closes behind her with a thud that resonates like the final nail in a coffin - your coffin - as George urges you down the hallway to stop in front of your door. 

You clutch the keys tight, refusing to give him the final satisfaction. 

His grip tightens again to the point of pain as his fingers curl and nails dig into the soft skin of your arm. “I don’t know why you insist on trying my patience tonight - and here I thought you were a good girl.” 

“Only to those who I deem worthy.” You hiss as frustrated anger starts to build in your chest. “And you, George? You play nice when really you’re… you’re just a wild thing pretending to be tame.” 

He regards you for a long moment before the corner of his mouth lifts, revealing a sharp pointed canine. “And what about you, darling?” He purrs, leaning in close and hitting you with a wave of cologne that has no right to stir sparks in your blood. “You’re just a wild thing trapped inside a cage… and if you don’t open this door,” his hand squeezes your arm and another whimper chokes off in your throat. “Then, I’ll take away your power to decide if you stay in that cage or not.” 

Another hot tear burns down your cheek as your arm throbs - no doubt severely bruised - and you swallow a sob as your vibrato falters and you fumble for your keys. The door opens after a few attempts, and the familiar interior of your apartment offers you little comfort as the door closes behind George. But at least he finally releases your arm, and you instantly bring your other hand to protectively cover the abused skin. 

George steps further into the shadows of your apartment, and his fitted, black turtleneck and trousers complement every angle of his lean frame as he keeps his gaze fixed solely on you. He moves through your apartment like he owns it, and you wonder just how many times he’s been here. Your stomach sours to think that he potentially watched over you while you slept. 

Slowly, you shake your head and draw another trembling sigh as you move away from him in the living room. “I already told you that I don’t have it - and it’s not a lie.” You try to moisten your mouth with a swallow. “I don’t have the treasure map that you want.” 

George’s gaze narrows with piqued interest. “A treasure map, hmm? Is that what Carlos told you it was?” 

Your frenzied mind tries to think back to this morning - and fuck, that was just this morning that Carlos stood in your kitchen. You try to recall who used the words ‘treasure map’ first, but the details elude you. “I-I don’t think that's what he exactly called it. He showed me some article, he said that Toto told you, and t-that you take Toto’s word as gospel… but it is a map, right?” You say as your mouth runs away with you. “It had a compass rose, it had roads, a-and… what looked like an ‘x marks the spot’.” 

George’s mouth curls to a wide, dazzling smile. “Oh, darling - you have just made my night.” He laughs in victory. “I knew your curiosity would get the better of you. I just knew that… even though you say you destroyed it, that you looked at it before you destroyed it.” 

A cold wave of fear shoots down your spine. “That doesn’t mean that I remember any details or anything…” Your words trail off as you take a step backwards, suddenly feeling way too trapped for your liking as Geroge advances. “I-it was so small… on microfilm or something.” 

“Oh, now don’t play modest,” George coaxes as he moves on silent steps and you continue back away from him. “You said that there was a compass rose, and roads, and even an ‘x marks the spot’. Sounds like you remember it all just fine.” His lips curl to another blood curdling smile that gives his handsome appearance a dark menace. “Now, you just need to tell me a couple of names and I’ll be on my way.” 

Your heart leaps at the prospect. “But I don’t… the writing was too small to make out any names. I can’t - couldn’t read them.” 

“Tsk-tsk,” he clucks his tongue, shaking his head with disappointment even as he moves towards you and you run out of room to run away. “I know you can do better than that.” 

Your back connects with the solid surface of your apartment wall, and you try to summon an image of the tiny map in your mind’s eye. The black lines had been drawn in mostly straight lines, intersecting in various places, and the red x in the corner… but the words are jumbles of squiggles and letters that you can’t conjure. Trying to keep your breathing steady, you offer a dejected shake of your head. “I don’t… I just - I couldn’t make out the words! The writing was just too small, I swear!” 

George stares back at you for a heart-pounding minute as he takes the final step, staring down at you as anxious fear grips you. He hums low in his throat. “Well, if you say so,” he whispers softly with deadly calm and firm resolve. “Then, there’s just one option left.” His chilly fingers find your jaw, tilting it up - just as you’d seen him do to Paulette in the hall - and you instantly slam your eyes shut.

“N-no! George, please.” You plead, trying futility to break free of his hold. “I’m telling the truth - I didn’t see any names. I won’t be able to tell anyone else!” 

“Not that I doubt your sincerity, but this situation has stood for too long to leave it to chance.” His voice holds a chilling, ominous note. “You’re merely just another mortal caught in the struggle of eternity - never able to appreciate the true beauty of the world around you until you just open your eyes… so open your eyes.” 

You bite your lip, steadfastly refusing. His fingers on your jaw tighten with bruising pressure as his blunt nails dig into your skin. A whimper chokes in your throat as you struggle to breathe through the pain, and you just squeeze your eyelids tighter together. 

“Well, if looking at me isn’t enough,” George growls. “Then, let’s change the scenery, shall we?” His strong hand abandons your jaw to land on your shoulder, effortlessly peeling you away from the wall and dragging you forward. The sound of shattering glass makes your eyes fly open, and your mouth falls open to see your living room chair half-protruding from the broken remains of your balcony fire-escape window. 

Your heart rate ratchets higher as he pushes you towards the sea of broken glass. “You can’t - you… you’re not going to throw me out of the window, are you?!” 

“Don’t be so silly.” He coos breezily as if he’s not propelling you towards certain death. “Once I have what I need, there won’t be much of your mind left anyway, so it won’t be a problem for it to end up scrambled on the pavement.” 

A terrified gasp escapes your throat as you claw at him, trying to fight back, trying to escape. But his supernatural strength prevails and the humid night breeze hits your face. “C-can’t you just…” your words trail off in a panicked hiccup. “I-I thought you would use your teeth.” 

He chuckles low and disconcerting as he pushes you out onto the balcony, holding you tight. “Come now, darling - that’s mildly offensive. Not to mention racist. Drained bodies leave too many questions. But an accidental fall from a balcony? Now, that’s not too hard to believe.” 

Another tear burns down your cheek as you feebly struggle. “P-please George - I didn’t… I don’t -” 

“Oh, George,” another voice slices through your terrified mind. A heart-achingly familiar voice with lilting Monegasque syllables. “You disappoint me, mate.” 

A relieved sob punches from your chest as Charles’ words echo above the blood pounding in your ears.

Nothing in George’s immobilizing hold eases as he pivots around to turn you back towards the darkened interior of your apartment. Charles stands like a dark avenging angel, eyes narrowed with resolve as he oozes effortless confident control. Another sob rises in your chest at the sight of him, and you want nothing more than to dissolve in the safety of his arms. 

Charles’ glittering green eyes find yours. “It’s alright, cara mia.” His gaze turns to George, hardening with displeasure. “Let her go, mate. Haven’t you distressed her enough for one lifetime?” 

A chuckle rumbles in George’s chest. “That was rather the point, you see. She positively reeks of you… it’s a wonder that you didn’t fuck her when you drank from her.” He nuzzles along your neck and you try to turn away in disgust. “She smells absolutely divine.” 

Charles shakes his head in disapproval. “Then why upset her when you know that it would attract my attention?”

A sharp, harsh laugh punches from George’s chest this time. “Isn’t it obvious, mate? I want you to be here. To bear witness.” He jerks you tighter in his grip as he takes a step back towards the edge. “To see the high price of this game that you insist we keep playing even 80 years later.” 

“Killing her isn’t going to change anything.” Charles simply says, taking a measured step forward. "She destroyed the map - we’re even. No one has the advantage.” 

“Do you really think I’m that much of an idiot? To think that you haven’t got a backup copy? Or to think that maybe when she says she couldn’t read the writing that you could and the knowledge still exists in the world?” He gives a slow, resolved shake of his head. “No, Charles. Nothing good can come from that map if it’s not restoring the wrongs that have been allowed to stand for the last 80 years. And you would know that if - just once - you could understand how wrong you’ve been since Austria.” 

Charles says nothing as he stares back at George in tense silence. Your overwrought nerves threaten to give out as you grow still in George’s strong hold and more tears leak from your eyes. 

At length, Charles wets his top lip and tilts his head. “Wrong, you say…” He trails off with a soft hum. “I suppose you had the luxury of missing out on the war’s early years. The first retreat, the Nazi’s ravaging the countryside, the mass conquering…” He shoves a casual hand in his pocket as his tone sharpens with a steely edge. “You don’t get to stand there and lecture me on what’s right and what’s wrong - and if you can’t understand that, then we’re done here, mate.” 

George huffs indignantly. “Glad we agree.” He takes another step back. “Then, I’ll just toss her over the edge, shall -” His words cut off in an undignified, startled scream as his balance falters. George’s suffocating hold loosens in his shock, and you trip over your own feet in a desperate escape attempt. The sounds of a sharp fight resonate behind you, but you’re too blinded by relief and fleeing instinct to turn around. 

Sobs shake your frame as you stumble back into your apartment - and the comforting embrace of Charles’ arms catches you. You cling to him, crumbling as the last of your strength abandons you.

Charles rocks you gently as he sinks to the floor, encouraging you to burrow his chest. “There, there, cara mia,” he coos gently, resting his cheek atop of your head. “It’s over now. He won’t hurt you ever again.” 

You dissolve against him, drowning in the strength of his arms around you. “I-I didn’t think… I thought destroying the pen would end it, that it-”

Charles shushes you quietly. “You did end it, cara mia. It’s over… and for what it’s worth, you did the right thing.” His lips brush a tender kiss to your brow. “No one needed the knowledge that map possessed.” 

Glass crunches under strong footsteps behind you, and Charles shifts against you to look up. A hum of approval rumbles his chest before he speaks softly. “Thank you, Max.” 

Another body draws up behind you, and everything about the strong embrace of Max’s arms, bracketing you between him and Charles feels so right. You cling to both of them, grateful to be alive and overwhelmed. “W-what about George…?” You choke out through gasping breaths. 

“Don’t worry about him.” Max’s words hold a firm edge despite his gentle tone. “He won’t ever hurt you again.” 

A rush of terrified memory overtakes you, and you cling closer to Charles and Max, letting them hold you in the dark interior of your apartment. Something warm and safe blooms in your chest as they surround you, and Charles presses another kiss to your brow. “In fact,” he coos softly. “No one will ever hurt you again.” 

2026

Excitement buzzes in your veins. After weeks of counting down, today has finally come. 

“If eternity is your choice, cara mia - then it’s something worth celebrating.” Charles clarified. 

Max chuckled softly as he encouraged you. “Sure. Think of it like… like your undead birthday.” 

Charles’ eyes shone with reassuring adoration. “That day will be the start of the rest of your life.” He reached out for your hand and a shiver of anticipation rippled across your skin. “A life with us, for as long as you want.” 

The force of your smile threatened to split your face as you glanced between him and Max. “So, then… that’s really it? That’s all it takes?” 

Max shrugged a dismissive shoulder. “It’s not a complicated process.”

The implications of the words stunned you, their offer overwhelming you. Immortality at your fingertips with Charles and Max by your side? Had there been anything else that you’d ever wanted more over the course of your life? 

Slowly, you nodded and squeezed Charles’ hand. “Then, yes - I choose eternity. With you.” You turned your gaze towards Max, holding out a hand and taking his chilly fingers between yours. "And you.” 

Charles’ face lit with a bright, satisfied smile. “Then, you shall have us, cara mia. And we shall have you.” He dipped his head to place a lingering, tantalizing kiss on the back of your hand. “Let’s find a date, and we’ll - oh! I should have the ballroom prepared.” 

Your brow furrowed. “Ballroom? Seriously…? Your home has a ballroom?” 

Mischief twinkled in Charles’ gaze. “This house is certainly old enough, so, yes - it does have a ballroom. Come, I’ll show you.” With your hand still in his, he stood and you followed, tugging Max along with you. 

The Dutchman bit back an annoyed sigh - something he still hadn’t managed to shake even as an immortal. “Or maybe you shouldn’t show it to her, Charles,” he said even as he squeezed your fingers. “Why spoil the surprise?” 

“Because - despite everything she’s seen - I don’t think she believes me, and I won’t have her questioning my sincerity for such an important decision.” Charles answered as they walked down a side hallway that you’d always considered unremarkable. Though, as Charles dropped your hand to throw open the innocuous double-wide doors, you would have to rethink that assessment.

Two magnificent chandeliers dripping in crystals and coated in dust dominated the elegant room. A piano stood lone sentry with only a scattering of plush chairs along the room’s periphery. The long, heavy curtains framing the windows showed their age despite the drawn shades, and the rich wood floor was desperately in need of some polish. But still… you’d never seen such a sight. At least, not outside of a fairy tale. And let alone in someone’s home. 

You glanced around the room, still unable to believe it. “This is just… incredible. How did I fucking not know that this was here?” You took a step into the room, dropping Max’s hand and studying your footprints on the dusty floor. 

Charles smiled with obvious pleasure. “Hmm, maybe Max was right. Maybe I shouldn’t have showed you yet…” he glanced over at Max with fond affection. “I think we might have created a monster.” 

“None of this ‘we’ stuff,” Max countered gently. “This is all your doing, mate.” He nodded over at you as you took a few gliding steps across the floor. 

Dust kicked up in your wake, tickling your nose and you bit back a sneeze. Coming to a stop, you raised a hand to brush your nose as you turned back towards Charles. His phone had materialized in his hand and his fingers scrolled elegantly over the touchscreen. He glanced up with a curious smile. “Shall we say the 19th? Our next sale should close by the 17th, and then, we’ll have even more to celebrate.” 

Oh, God, yes. That lost Vermeer would fetch another 400 million for Charles’ bank account, and… fuck, you could pinch yourself. 

Spending eternity with those two handsome men and not having to worry about money or food or disease ever again…? It sounded like an absolute dream come true.

And it still does. Even as you answer the knock on your apartment front door, surprised to find a courier bearing gifts. A garment bag and several boxes end up on your sofa despite your confusion as the courier presents you a blood red envelope before leaving. Closing the door in his wake, you flip it over and your heart flutters at the wax seal bearing a familiar crest. At first, you thought the lion and spider motifs were not only creepy but far too cliche for a clan of vampires, but now, you look forward to calling that crest your own. Perhaps they’ll even consider updating it for you - once you decide what animal you want to be. Or do they decide that? 

Your cheeks flush as your mind spins, and goodness… you’re getting way too far ahead of yourself. Reaching for a kitchen knife, you slice under the seal to reveal the thick cream cardstock within. 

A beautiful occasion calls for only the best - and the best deserves every opportunity to feel the most beautiful. Please choose what you will and we hope the gifts satisfy. 

C M 

A wide grin splits your face as you run your fingers over their simply signed initials, each in their own handwriting. Sighing incredulously, you turn back towards the packages and the contents take your breath away. Five designer gowns, all in your size and colors to complement your skin tone. Each fits like a glove, accenting your best features as you twirl to study your reflection in your bedroom mirror. Silk whispers around your ankles and against your legs - and god, any of them would be perfect for dancing. And, of course, the neckline of each gown leaves your neck prominently on display for the evening’s main event. 

A thin ripple of fear works down your spine as the gravity of it hits you - and shit… officially speaking, you’re going to die tonight. The realization should probably frighten you, should engage your every last survival instinct… but you know it’s not the end. Charles and Max are living - but not quite - proof of what awaits you on the other side, and you can’t wait to join them. 

After opening a box to reveal several pairs of gorgeous heels to match the selection of gowns, only one small, black velvet box remains. Popping the lid open, your mouth falls agape at the sight of a ring adorned with a large, luscious ruby surrounded by an array of diamonds. You didn’t know precious stones could come in such a large size - and fuck, would your fingers even be able to hold the weight? 

Still stunned, you pry the platinum band from the velvet cushion and study the refracting light in the gem’s facets. Your heart flutters as you slide it onto your right ring finger, dismayed to find it won’t slide past your knuckle. Swallowing your disappointment, you work the band a little harder, but it’s just too snug. Is it possible that they got the size wrong? But no… if Charles and Max have the exact measurements of your dress and shoe size, then they know your ring size. 

Wetting your top lip, your breath catches as you try the ring on your left hand finger to find a perfect fit. Is this the start of more to come? A proposal? Or merely just the first taste of everything you want with Charles and Max? 

With only hours to go, you slide the ring off and set it on your dresser before indulging in a luxurious bubble bath. You take the time you need for your hair and makeup, hoping it looks good enough for such an occasion. The silk of your chosen dress slides back on your body with delicate whispers, the heels add such poise, and the elegant ruby ring completes your classy, gorgeous ensemble. 

Low simmering arousal heats your blood as you hope that Charles and Max won’t be able to keep their hands off of you. Even now, the phantom memories of Max’s strong hands as he holds you against his broad chest and Charles’ nimble fingers as his lips tease your neck race a blot of desire down your spine. God, what will it be to learn their touch as an immortal? 

As the clock strikes 2200 hrs, a black sedan pulls up in front of your building and you descend the stairs. The driver meets you on the sidewalk with one last gift - a velvet cape in a deep scarlet color for your bare shoulders on a cool night. The heavy decadent fabric settles against your skin, and you swear you can just breathe in the intoxicating scent of Charles’ cologne. 

The thrill of anticipation hums along your skin as the car cuts through the night, taking you ever closer to the house that you’ve grown to love. To the house that will soon become your home. It makes your smile widen as the car glides to a stop and the driver assists you out of the car. Crossing up the steps to the front door, Charles and Max both stand in the foyer, dressed in impeccable tuxedos cut in tailored lines that should be illegal. 

“You look absolutely beautiful, cara mia.” Charles purrs, leaning in to buss your cheek. “I am pleased to see that our gifts were well received.” 

“God, it was almost too much.” You reply, sliding out of your cape as Max stands behind you, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your neck. “But really, I cannot thank you both enough. It’s just… everything is just gorgeous and perfect.” 

Max hums in obvious approval as he nuzzles your skin. “And you look it.” 

Your skin warms under Max’s touch as your gaze rakes down Charles’ lithe form. The dark lines of his tux hug his body with precision tailoring, and you debate just pouncing on him right now - and dragging Max with you, of course. But Max steps away to hang your cape in the foyer closet and Charles moves further into the house, holding out a hand in invitation. His gaze finds yours, glittering with the glow of soft light. “Are you hungry, cara mia?” He asks gently. “Or did you already eat? One last meal, so to speak…” 

You shake your head as Max falls into step beside you. “I already ate… especially since we’re dancing and celebrating, I needed the energy.” 

Charles’ mouth curls with an amused smile. “I wish I could tell you that you won’t have that problem after your transformation,” he says breezily as you approach the ballroom doors. “But, well… without sustenance, even we go weak.” 

“Sustenance…” you repeat softly as your heels echo off the marble. “You mean blood.” 

“Yes,” Max answers bluntly. “That can be a bit of a mental adjustment afterwards, though, depending on the strength of your mortal construct.” 

You arch a quizzical brow. “My mortal construct…?” 

“Yes,” Charles clarifies as he and Max push open the ballroom doors. “Everything that gives you your current sense of right and wrong, of forgivable and unforgivable - even your sense of time.” 

Charles’ words fade in your ears as you stare around the transformed room. Light gleams from the spotless crystal chandeliers, reflecting off the floor’s brilliantly polished surface. The curtains have been redone in a tasteful brocade that harkens back to an age long past. Hell, even you feel as though you should be dressed in a Regency style gown with a dance card looped around your wrist. But the grand ballroom hosts just the three of you, and another delicious shiver races across your skin. 

You shake your head, unable to hold back your appreciative smile. “This is so gorgeous - it’s a shame that you don’t use this room more often.” 

An almost shy edge comes to Charles’ smile. “I’m afraid we don’t really entertain… difficult to do without gaining attention.” 

“And too much attention draws unwanted questions.” Max confirms as he steps further into the room. “And you’ll learn that soon, too… so much for you to learn. And then,” he glances back at Charles from under his neatly combed hair, ice blue eyes mesmerizing in the glittering light. “She will be the young one. Not me.” 

Charles’ smile curls with amused fondness. “That’s not my nickname for you, and you know it.” He looks at you, shaking his head. “I think he’s just bitter that despite being born three weeks before me, he was transformed after me, so that officially makes him younger than me.” 

You chuckle softly. “Well, compared to when I was born - you both outrank me, so if calling me younger helps, then that doesn’t bother me.” 

Overhead, from unseen speakers, a low bass note sounds and a haunting voice follows with familiar words. 

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream 

Your breath catches and your heart sings as your favorite song by Lana Del Rey fills the ballroom. Glancing between Charles and Max, a wide smile splits your face. “You remembered… which one of you was it?” 

Max moves on silent footsteps, coming to a stop in front of you. “Charles has all the musical knowledge and taste in this house. Though, maybe that will change once you join us…” He holds out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to put your hand in his. 

Admittedly, you don’t have much any practice with the waltz, but following Max’s lead, you fall into the elegant 1-2-3 rhythm. His tux does nothing to diminish the broad strength of his shoulder as your hand comes up to rest, and your dress flows in elegant waves as he twirls you around. 

And I know it’s true, that visions are seldom all they seem 

Extending his arm, you spin out and find yourself suddenly in Charles’ arms. He gracefully falls into the rhythm, and your hand slides into his as he takes your waist to sweep you around the dance floor. His cologne clouds your senses as he holds you close before turning you out for another elegant spin. Max’s cool hand finds yours as you extend, and as you spin back into Charles’ embrace, Max follows you. Your mind spins as you tuck close against Charles’ chest with the strong press of Max against your back as the hypnotic rhythm fills your ears and keeps your feet moving with theirs. 

But if I know you, I know what you’ll doYou’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream 

Your heart races as liquid heat burns between your legs. These two men are everything you want, and you don’t care if they can smell how desire ignites your blood, how arousal makes you drip with want. If this is to be your last night as a human - if this is to serve as some sort of wedding night and birthday in one - then you have no reason to hold anything back. Especially as you continue to move intertwined with them in a synchronous flow and the desire for them to claim you - to make you eternally theirs - burns fiercely. 

The music draws to a soft, haunting close as their steps slow. Your breathing comes in trembling gasps as you hover on the edge of anticipation and relief, still held in the cocoon of their bodies. Evey nerve thrums with need, an aching pulse that only Charles and Max can satisfy. Words crawl up your throat to beg them to fuck you here, one last time before they drain you of life. 

But Charles lowers his head, skimming his lips along your racing pulse and brushing his cool nose against your flushed skin. A gasping moan passes your lips as Max bends down to the other side of your neck, dragging the sharp points of his elongated canines against your skin with delicious promise. A strong cool hand finds your hips, pushing you back against Max’s body as Charles presses ever closer. 

Charles skims his lips along your jaw, hovering just above your lips with the promise of a lifetime. “One last chance, cara mia,” he whispers with a velvet rumble. “Do you take us?” 

You sigh heavily as everything within you burns. “I do,” you moan, torn between tilting your head further against Max or further into Charles. “I take you both, yes.” 

Max strikes first, his sharp teeth slicing through your skin with familiar ease. Another moan pitches in your throat, choking off as Charles’ teeth find your other main artery, hot blood dribbling down your neck as his lips seal against your sin. When they both hollow their cheeks for a long draught, your mind abandons your body as the pleasure-pain sensations overwhelm you. You cling to them, desperate to never let go, to have them always. 

Blackness eats the corners of your sanity and your vision turns dizzy. Your breath comes in shallow gasps as your life drains away, stolen by their lips. Your fingers lose their strength as you fall slack in their embrace, and this… 

Your heart slows to its final rest. 

With a wet suck, Max pulls his teeth free and Charles gathers you in his arms. Dropping to a knee, he lays your lifeless body on the smooth, polished wood. The last drops of your blood form a puddle on the floor as Charles stands back to his full height. A trail of your blood stains his skin, soaking into the collar of his dress shirt as he stares down at you. 

At least until Max steps over your dead body and hooks a strong arm around Charles’ waist. Charles turns his mercurial eyes to Max’s, smiling with relieved ease as he melts into Max’s embrace. Moving to a tune that only Max knows, he gently guides Charles in slow, easy steps. Your blood sings in both of their veins with immense satisfaction. “You know, I ought to be really annoyed with you.” Max says softly through his own blood-stained lips. 

Charles arches an indignant brow. “What? How could you possibly?” He licks the corner of his mouth still stained crimson. “I told you that we would spend our anniversary together, and here we are.” 

“For starters, you told her that we weren’t exclusive.” 

Charles chuckles softly. “That was a long time ago, mate. And the more accurate word is eternal.” 

“And then,” Max continues, undeterred as he leads Charles around the room. “You invited her to spend our anniversary with us…” 

“You knew it had to happen.” Charles counters softly. “It always does every time someone gets close and learns more than they should…” 

Max hums gently, leaning in to brush his blood soaked lips to Charles’ cheek. “For a while, I really thought you would keep her… she lasted longer than most of the others.” 

“But it wouldn’t last - she wouldn’t last. Any mortal who chooses immortality…” 

“I did.” Max reminds him. 

“No. You chose not to die… that’s different.” 

The corner of Max’s mouth lifts with vague amusement as he leans in to meet Charles in a deep, languorous, blood-soaked kiss. One borne from decades of familiarity and devotion and adoration. One that defies words and stirs every part of their primal, undead, immortal existence. 

A low, delicious hum pitches in Charles’ throat as he pulls back, regarding Max with near pitch black eyes. “Happy 80th anniversary, mon amour.” 

Max leans forward for one last kiss - at least here before they retire to their bedroom. Keeping his arm around Charles’ waist, he turns them both towards the ballroom doors and casts one last glance down at your still body. “You had the floor waxed and sealed appropriately, yes?” 

“Of course,” Charles confirms as he, too, pays you one last parting glance. “And tomorrow, we’ll see to her interment in the crypt. Along with adding her ring to the collection.” 

Max reaches for the lightswitch on the wall and the room falls dark as the double doors close behind them. 

Fin 

Series Main List

Tag List: @fictional-l0v3r @hollie911

[lily-alphonse]

I was talking about this earlier with an anon, and now that I've found you, I am intensely curious: How would you make Gus/Willy work?

OLD MEN!!! OLD MAN YAOI MY BELOVED!!!

Gus and Willy are cute. I like this, I can work with this.

They quietly find comfort in each other. The kind of couple that no one really knows is a couple, big “they were roommates” energy, except for the fact that Gus has always been a little loud and fruity (look at his clothing! The mustache?!). But to anyone outside of the loop it could just look like Willy is a very dear friend.

But how does it start?

I feel like I have to plot their romantic pasts to get my head around it.

Gus grew up in the city. Part of the down-low queer scene, he had a few boyfriends. A couple of them felt like they could have been true love until reality hit, and there was nothing true about it.

He found love in his passions instead, in cooking and found family in a place where life moved slower.

I like to think Willy was married once (idk if we ever get any lore to confirm or deny this, im just a silly little fic writer I’ll slap an AU tag on this baby and call it a day if I have to). It was a good, practical marriage but they were never able to have kids, and his wife passed from cancer a long time ago. He left his life behind when she died. The house had always felt more like her’s anyway. He took his boat and sailed away to start a new life in a small town.

He arrived there long before Gus did, but Gus made himself a fixture in the town so much more quickly. What had taken Willy years took Gus mere days. Everyone in town knew his name and smiled when they saw him. Everyone loved his food. A man might’ve been envious at that, but not Willy. He just found it interesting.

So when Gus made his way to the bait shop it was no surprise. What was a surprise was the fact he had brought Willy food.

“Cookies? Shouldn’t I be giftin’ you somethin’, seeing as youre the new neighbor?”

Gus laughed. He had a bright laugh from deep in his chest that made the air around him sparkle. “Sorry! It’s the ultimate way into people’s hearts, I can’t help it.”

Willy hummed in contemplation, looking down at the plate of cookies. “I’ll take these on one condition.”

Gus shifted uncomfortably, uncertain if he was being serious. “That is?”

“You come in and try some of Willy’s famous trout soup!”

Gus laughed again, feeling relieved, and nodded. “Sure. Nice to meet you, Willy.”

“Pleasure to meet you as well, come on in.”

Conversation flows easily between them. Willy is chattier than people think, but especially to Gus. He likes how Gus reacts to his stories, his eyes widening at the good parts. And Yoba, his laugh.

But eventually they see the darker sides of each other, too. Sometimes, Willy gets sullen thinking of the past. Sometimes, Gus gets moody and short-tempered, and needs to be left alone for days. They always come back together, though.

They’ll sit in front of Gus’ fireplace warming themselves. Willy likes that it feels more like a proper home here than his shack. He likes how Gus wears soft cardigans and keeps his house smelling like cinnamon.

They don’t know if this is true love. It might be. Maybe it’s just the closest they will get in this life. But at least it’s warm.

Ow my heart

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

[esconpanache]

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At Escon Panache, we believe that true luxury extends beyond exquisite design and prime locations. It encompasses a commitment to sustainable living and ensuring the utmost safety and security for our residents. Here’s how Escon Panache Villas excels in these crucial areas, offering a harmonious blend of eco-friendly practices and cutting-edge security measures.

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Escon Panache prioritizes controlled access to enhance security. Our gated communities feature secure entry points with biometric or keycard access systems, ensuring that only authorized residents and guests can enter the premises.

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Trained security personnel are present round-the-clock to maintain a safe environment. Our security team is equipped to handle emergencies and provide assistance to residents, offering peace of mind at all times.

Fire Safety Measures

Fire safety is a critical aspect of our security strategy. Escon Panache is equipped with modern fire detection and suppression systems, including smoke detectors, fire alarms, and sprinkler systems, ensuring prompt response and minimizing risk in case of a fire.

Emergency Preparedness

Escon Panache has comprehensive emergency preparedness plans in place. Regular drills and training sessions are conducted to ensure that residents and staff are well-prepared to handle emergencies efficiently and effectively.

Secure Parking Facilities

Our secure parking facilities are designed to protect your vehicles. Equipped with surveillance cameras and controlled access, our parking areas provide a safe environment for residents’ vehicles, preventing unauthorized access and theft.

Experience the Escon Panache Difference

Escon Panache Villas are more than just a residence; it’s a commitment to a better lifestyle. Our focus on sustainable living and unwavering dedication to safety and security create an environment where residents can thrive with peace of mind. Discover the Escon Panache difference, where luxury living meets responsible practices and top-tier security in its 4 BHK Villas in Greater Noida.

Visit Escon Panache today and embrace a lifestyle that’s safe, secure, and sustainable. Your future awaits.

Visit:-https://esconpanache.com/

Ref:-https://esconpanachevilla.blogspot.com/2024/06/elevating-lifestyle-standards-escon.html

Location: Greater Noida, Uttar Pradesh, India

[wumpasluggs]

Slu̶̫͠g̴̼͝gs. Slimy So̶̬͛f̶͚͊t Sluggs. I oo̷̘͝ź̴͙e̷̫͌ toȍ̷̢.

I invade. I cor̶͖̉r̷̗͝u̷̪̓p̷͇̽t. My fruiting bodies leak the here̴͔͆s̸̡̿y of full com̶̯̀m̸̠̂ȕ̸̩nion.

Unity of the fil̷͙͘t̷̩̐h. Scattering bles̷̭̿s̵̤̈́i̴̙͝n̵͍͠gs like dead skin cells. Within me stirs your co̵̞͐r̶̩̃e̶̻̍. Low-fidelity imĩ̷͎t̷̻̕a̵̺̋ť̶̲ion. My suppurating kĭ̴͈s̸̠̈s̷̥̈ for its forehead.

What mō̸̺r̴̭̊t̶̞̔al fixture could frame our symm̵̗̑e̸͍͋t̸̺͠r̶͍̂y̴̬̓ now?

You may stay as lọ̵̆n̶͇͒g as you wish.

Only we may flow tog̵͈̽é̷͍t̴͉̄h̶̬͘er somewhat, in fullness of days.

And I will not hold it malicious, if togetherness frightens y̷͈̕ơ̸̩u̵̗͌.

-🦠

I think I'll stay a long while I would like to embrace the togetherness the singularity now that I am in here with you i might just ooze too thinking about fruiting bodies and the inevitable infection and my core you can feel that?? In this ethereal other space rotting away

[candidscape]

Eco-Friendly Interior Design: Sustainable Solutions for Your Home

As awareness of environmental issues grows, eco-friendly interior design is becoming increasingly popular. This approach not only enhances the aesthetic appeal of your home but also contributes to a more sustainable and healthier environment. Here’s how you can embrace sustainable solutions in your interior design:

1. Choose Sustainable Materials

Opt for materials that are eco-friendly and have a minimal environmental impact. Look for:

Bamboo: A rapidly renewable resource used for flooring, furniture, and decor.

Recycled Glass: Ideal for countertops and tiles, recycled glass reduces waste and adds a unique touch.

Reclaimed Wood: Salvaged from old buildings or furniture, reclaimed wood offers a rustic charm and helps reduce deforestation.

2. Opt for Low-VOC Paints

Volatile Organic Compounds (VOCs) in traditional paints can negatively impact indoor air quality. Choose low-VOC or no-VOC paints that are less harmful and contribute to a healthier living environment. Many eco-friendly paint options come in a wide range of colors and finishes, so you don’t have to compromise on style.

3. Incorporate Energy-Efficient Lighting

Energy-efficient lighting solutions not only reduce your energy bills but also minimize your environmental footprint. Consider:

LED Bulbs: They use up to 90% less energy than traditional incandescent bulbs and have a longer lifespan.

Smart Lighting Systems: These systems allow you to control lighting remotely and set schedules to minimize energy use.

4. Use Sustainable Fabrics

When selecting textiles for your home, choose fabrics that are both stylish and sustainable. Options include:

Organic Cotton: Grown without harmful chemicals, organic cotton is soft and eco-friendly.

Hemp: A durable and versatile fabric that requires minimal water and pesticides.

Recycled Polyester: Made from recycled plastic bottles, it helps reduce waste and can be used for upholstery and curtains.

5. Invest in Energy-Efficient Appliances

Modern appliances that are ENERGY STAR® rated use less energy and water, helping you reduce your household’s carbon footprint. Look for energy-efficient models for your refrigerator, dishwasher, washing machine, and other appliances.

6. Embrace Upcycling and Repurposing

Give old furniture and decor a new life through upcycling and repurposing. This approach reduces waste and adds unique character to your home. Consider:

Painting or Reupholstering Furniture: Transform outdated pieces into stylish, custom creations.

Repurposing Materials: Use reclaimed materials for DIY projects, such as creating a coffee table from an old door or shelves from wooden pallets.

7. Integrate Indoor Plants

Indoor plants not only enhance the aesthetic appeal of your home but also improve air quality by filtering pollutants. Opt for low-maintenance plants like snake plants, pothos, or peace lilies, which are known for their air-purifying properties.

8. Choose Sustainable Flooring Options

Eco-friendly flooring options can dramatically change the look and feel of your space. Consider:

Cork Flooring: Made from the bark of cork oak trees, it’s renewable and offers natural insulation.

Linoleum: Made from natural materials like linseed oil and wood flour, it’s biodegradable and comes in various colors and patterns.

Recycled Carpet: Made from recycled materials, such as plastic bottles, it provides comfort while reducing waste.

9. Implement Water-Saving Fixtures

Conserving water is an essential aspect of eco-friendly design. Install:

Low-Flow Faucets and Showerheads: These fixtures reduce water usage without sacrificing performance.

Dual-Flush Toilets: Offer two flushing options to minimize water consumption.

10. Support Local and Artisan Products

Choose locally-made and artisan products to reduce transportation emissions and support local economies. Local artisans often use sustainable practices and materials, adding a unique touch to your home while minimizing your environmental impact.

By integrating these eco-friendly interior design solutions, you can create a home that reflects your commitment to sustainability while enjoying a stylish and comfortable living space. Embracing these practices not only benefits the environment but also promotes a healthier lifestyle for you and your family.

[windriverviewcampground]

Sustainable RV Travel: Eco-Friendly Tips for Visiting Boulder, WY

Welcome to Wind River View Campground, your ideal base for eco-friendly adventures in the heart of Boulder, Wyoming. Nestled by the picturesque Fremont Lake, our campground offers a range of accommodations from full hookup RV sites to unique renovated sheep wagon camps. As you prepare for your stay, embracing sustainable RV travel not only enhances your experience but also helps preserve the stunning landscapes of Wyoming for future generations. Here are some practical tips for maintaining an eco-friendly lifestyle while enjoying the natural beauty around Boulder.

1. Choose Sustainable RV Parks

When selecting long-term RV parks in Wyoming, opt for those with strong environmental practices. At Wind River View Campground, we are committed to sustainability and minimizing our ecological footprint. Look for parks that offer:

Recycling Programs: Ensure the park has facilities for recycling common waste materials like paper, plastics, and glass.

Energy-Efficient Facilities: Choose parks with energy-efficient lighting and water-saving fixtures.

Waste Management: Parks should have clear waste disposal guidelines and provide options for composting organic waste.

2. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

The principles of reducing, reusing, and recycling can greatly impact your RV travel experience:

Reduce: Minimize waste by bringing only what you need. Avoid single-use plastics and opt for reusable items like water bottles, shopping bags, and utensils.

Reuse: Invest in durable products that can be used repeatedly. For example, reusable containers and cloth napkins can replace disposable options.

Recycle: Sort your waste into appropriate recycling bins provided by the campground or local facilities.

3. Conserve Energy

Energy conservation is crucial when traveling in an RV. Here are some tips to keep your energy consumption in check:

Use Solar Power: Equip your RV with solar panels to harness renewable energy. This reduces reliance on fossil fuels and can help power your appliances while minimizing your impact on the grid.

Turn Off Lights and Appliances: When not in use, switch off lights, appliances, and electronics. Utilize LED bulbs for energy efficiency.

Optimize Your Air Conditioning and Heating: Use fans and ventilation to reduce the need for air conditioning. When heating, ensure your RV is well-insulated to maintain warmth efficiently.

4. Practice Water Conservation

Conserving water is essential in maintaining the health of natural ecosystems and ensuring a sustainable future. Follow these practices:

Shorten Showers: Limit shower time and consider installing a low-flow showerhead in your RV to reduce water usage.

Fix Leaks: Regularly check for and repair any leaks in your RV’s plumbing system to avoid water waste.

Use Water-Efficient Fixtures: Equip your RV with water-saving fixtures and appliances to minimize consumption.

5. Respect Wildlife and Natural Habitats

While exploring the natural wonders around Boulder, it’s vital to respect the wildlife and their habitats:

Follow Trail Guidelines: Stick to designated trails to prevent habitat destruction and minimize your impact on local flora and fauna.

Keep a Safe Distance: Observe wildlife from a distance to avoid disturbing them. Use binoculars or a camera with a zoom lens for a closer look.

Leave No Trace: Pack out all trash and follow the Leave No Trace principles to ensure you leave the environment as you found it.

6. Support Local and Sustainable Businesses

Enhance your eco-friendly travel experience by supporting local businesses that prioritize sustainability:

Local Farmers and Markets: Shop at farmers' markets and local stores for fresh produce and artisanal goods. This supports the local economy and reduces the carbon footprint associated with long-distance food transport.

Eco-Friendly Eateries: Dine at restaurants that practice sustainable sourcing and waste reduction. Many local eateries in towns like Pinedale and Jackson Hole emphasize environmental responsibility.

7. Engage in Eco-Friendly Activities

Make the most of your stay at Wind River View Campground by engaging in activities that align with sustainable travel practices:

Hiking and Biking: Explore the trails around Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone National Park on foot or by bike. These low-impact activities allow you to enjoy the scenery without contributing to pollution.

Fishing and Boating: When enjoying Fremont Lake, follow regulations and guidelines for sustainable fishing and boating. Use environmentally friendly products and avoid disrupting aquatic ecosystems.

Wildlife Observation: Participate in wildlife observation tours that emphasize conservation and responsible viewing practices.

8. Educate and Inspire Others

Share your commitment to sustainable travel with fellow campers and travelers. By raising awareness and setting an example, you can inspire others to adopt eco-friendly practices:

Share Tips and Experiences: Discuss your sustainable travel practices with others and offer tips for reducing environmental impact.

Promote Sustainable Parks: Advocate for parks and campgrounds that prioritize sustainability and encourage friends and family to choose eco-friendly options.

Conclusion

At Wind River View Campground, we are dedicated to providing an exceptional experience while preserving the natural beauty of Boulder, Wyoming. By adopting these sustainable RV travel tips, you can contribute to the protection of our environment and enhance your overall travel experience. From reducing waste and conserving energy to supporting local businesses and respecting wildlife, every small action counts towards a more sustainable future. We look forward to welcoming you to our campground and helping you explore the breathtaking landscapes of Wyoming in an eco-friendly way. Safe travels and happy camping!

[raytm]

the warmth of suguru's frame beneath him is not unfamiliar. he feels that he's been here many times before, tucked away in some nondescript hotel room for the night with the lights turned down low and the body of his former friend keeping him steady. a pleasant ache has eased thru satoru's limbs, body sore, sweaty - and he could definitely use a shower after all of that... but as always, it was hard pressed to peel the sorcerer away from the one beneath him, his tactile being far too sweetened with the afterglow to allow suguru to leave him... again. usually they part - sometimes quickly, sometimes hours later when satoru has eased out of the comfort of his space and the the bleak reality of a world without suguru.

hands curl, long fingers flexing into the other's chest - as satoru looks upwards, paying no mind when snow white hair dips in front of glowing blue eyes. on the battlefield - gojo satoru is god incarnate, a being with the beck and call of the void at his fingertips, able to see all. he is untouchable, nigh on feral, and curses merely tremble in his wake. but like this... like this he is pliant, serene, and his limpid gaze is so terribly sad - so filled with want as he presses closer, closer, closer, ensuring geto's dark gaze is pierced beneath his own.

something boils in his chest, something he knows he shouldn't say, knows he shouldn't even think... but the world is different with suguru, everything narrowed down to this tiny hotel room and their kiss stained flesh, shattered upon the altars of antithetical ideals and satoru being unable to follow. so he speaks... softly, whisper quiet, almost imperceptible in sound level: " come back. " he croaks, voice just a touch hoarse, lacking in it's usual pomp, " come back, suguru. " it comes again, a little louder this time, " and we can... we can... " bright blue cast in shadow, as his eyes drift shut. " it never had to be this way. "

Once, their lives had been inextricably connected, those idyllic days belonged to times foregone. It was unfeasible that there could be a time where Satoru Gojo was banished from his mind, a formidable opponent within his warring heart. Even if he defected, turning his back on those antiquated ideals & the abhorrent fossils who governed them, he would never be free of Satoru’s apparition. It did not matter if they were enemies, standing on antithetical paths rather than friends, his dark, forlorn gaze would seek him out in moments of quiet & still feel the ache of his absence when he was met with silence. To have him in this carnal way, satiating the festering hollow within him with starved kisses & ravening teeth, had become curative. Suguru couldn’t allow the chance for that deprivation to impede him, even as he drew back on his clothing & allowed his gaze to follow the path he’d taken in departure, he understood this. It was never a possibility for him to efface the other from his life, he understood that too. Long, lithe fingers curl against his chest, the pressure enough to hold him present. Satoru’s gaze was distant & limpid, purling, fierce blue. Earning his gaze was a portent of harrowing defeat, he was a god-like incarnation, the world ebbing & flowing around the places his fingers commanded. In this nondescript hotel room, with its off-white sheets & its low hanging light fixtures, he was delineated with an intense sorrow. It was compelling enough to slither around his ribs, settle in the apertures around his heart & tighten. His next breath was tremulous, akin to a long-held sigh. “ Satoru.” it’s a heady voice that calls his name, once breathless & impregnated with lust, now it evinces the exhaustion that had festered within him for all of those years. Even with that conviction & his antipathy to jujutsu society, how could he ignore the way his confident lilt waned into a sound not unlike a plea. It was as if the revered Suguru Geto was admonishing him. “ You as well as I know the reasons why that cannot be.”

His hand reaches out, rests the back of it against the pallor of his cheek, he doesn’t balk before him. “ How would things change for us if I returned ?” it’s spoken softly, as if he were appeasing his wounded heart. “ From a place amongst their ranks all we can do is as they say & die a death they approve of.” A sentiment of remorse curves at the corners of his mouth, he has never regretted his decision of leaving, only that it was Satoru who was left behind. “ Would it not be selfish if I asked you the same thing ?” a half-mast gaze cast upon him, dark eyes immuring. “ What would you do Satoru ? If I asked you to leave.” 

[molinabiancavalentina]

MODERN HISTORY

1ST BLOG _The Irvine Company - James Irvine / RELEVANT FIGURE

The Irvine Company is known for its commitment to water conservation and sustainability in its real estate developments. For more than 150 years, The Irvine Company has sought and implemented innovative ways to conserve and protect Irvine's precious water resources at Irvine Ranch. Today, The Irvine Company is a privately held real estate investment company governed by an independent board of directors. The Irvine Company is recognized for its master planning and environmental stewardship of Irvine Ranch in Orange County, including diversified operations throughout coastal California. As you can understand, the James Irvine Organization had a great relevance in the area of water conservation by creating several dams and reservoirs in the various streams of the Irvine Ranch, because of this generous inversion that had a long with it many benefits for the earth and its environment, we must remember that water is an important resource for the environment, so whatever it has positive repercussions on it will be positive in general.

James Irvine was a pioneer of California agriculture, building his family's Southern California ranch into one of the state's earliest and most productive large-scale agricultural enterprises. During the "Great Drought" of the 1860s, James Irvine and three partners purchased the land that would become the Irvine Ranch. Droughts plagued Southern California and the ranch for the rest of the century. Between 1920 and 1940, the Irvine Company spent millions on water development and conservation. This included drilling hundreds of wells and constructing a series of dams and reservoirs on the ranch's various streams. Later, the Irvine Company began widespread use of water-saving fixtures - such as low-flow showerheads and toilets - in homes, hotels, and office buildings in Irvine and elsewhere on the Irvine Ranch. In the 2000s, the use of reclaimed water throughout Irvine was made even more effective by the company's commitment to state-of-the-art irrigation systems that include "smart" irrigation controllers, drip and low-flow water delivery devices, and satellite-based weather data controls, among other technologies.

IMPORTANT PERSON: James Irvine - Bought the land where the Irvine Ranch is located and where the Irvine Company was founded.

The company was founded by James Irvine (Irvine family) and is currently 100% owned by Donald Bren. Because the company is privately held, its financial information is not available to the public. However, Bren is the richest real estate developer in the United States with a net worth of $15.3 billion as of April 2021. But if we must talk about numbers, I will mention some of the people involved in the company, referred to as the “Executive Group”:

Executive Committee: Charles Fedalen Jr, Frank Abeling, Mare Ley and Jonathan Brinsden.

Real Estate Division Executives: Roger DeWames, Ken Gillet, Todd Keller, Alan Parkin, Roger Ploum, Teresa Prestwood and Tom Sullivan.

Corporate Executives: Gino Bianchini, Rob Elliott, Mark Henigan, Paul Hernandez, Jason Maxwell, Bryan Stevens, Darren Thomas, Kevin Wagner and Abe Wong.

The Irvine Company converted the community's irrigation system to recycled water in March, saving an estimated 7.3 million gallons of potable water annually.

The result of this company's actions was that they helped to start recycling water in a high percentage by including it in their multi-family houses, since they are involved in this area, and the water saving forms they included were like an extra benefit.  The impact it had on the level of public service for what they sold was high because it was more convenient and environmentally friendly for the customer who was thinking of buying the commercial properties offered. Since the impact was great, the water conservation started to bring something serious in between people who actually think of acquiring one of their services the company offers.

The relevance that this company has today is that it is concerned that water is not wasted by unconscious people, although this company cannot simply force these people to conserve water, at least they try to give a message of awareness to these people. Currently, water conservation is almost zero, especially in countries like Chad or Angola, because in these countries there is not enough drinking water for all the people who live there, this is where the great benefit that this company gives to the responsible use of water comes in.

For resuming all this relationship between the Irvine Company and water conservation, it's very smart from their part to start this kind of good things since they not only gained more customers and clients but also get benefits from the environment we live since is like we are starting to solve this big problem we all know about water consumption by starting to conserve it. Although this company is not so well known by the young people of today, there is no doubt that the owner of this idea had a very good purpose in risking his money with something that could help save water and reduce the level of waste of this important resource. Really, this is something that the young people of today should admire.