#crisp and clean no caffeine

[beddybugs]

#kirby #kirby and the forgotten land #beddybugsart #guess who finally 100% the game after playing it once when it came outt #also i really love kirby forgot how much i do #n if anyones wondering about the creature in the bottom corner #thats fanart of my werekirby idea which i want to be real so badd #maybe in another universe it is 😞 #crisp and clean no caffeine

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master An "Effortlessly Elegant" & Put-Together Look

Table of Contents:

Treat your skin like royalty

Take ample care of your natural hair

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape

Choose your accessories wisely

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple

Regarding your signature scent(s)

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously

Treat your skin like royalty:

Use high-quality skincare twice a day

Wear sunscreen every day

Remove your makeup every night before bed no matter what

Use makeup that doesn't clog your pores/irritate your skin

Change your pillowcases weekly

Eat plenty of produce & drink lots of water

Prioritize sleep

Limit or eliminate alcohol, cigarettes, caffeine, and processed foods/sugary drinks

Keep your skin exfoliated/derma-planed

Take ample care of your natural hair:

Use high-quality shampoo/conditioner combos that suit your hair type & don't cause build-up

Hydrate with a scalp mask 1-4 times a month

Use cold or lukewarm water to wash your hair

Apply shampoo to the roots/hair covering your scalp and conditioner only on the "ponytail" section of your hair

Use a specialty hair towel after getting out of the shower

Always comb wet hair and brush 1-3 times a day when dry

Limit heat on your hair when possible & always use a heat protectant every time you do

Use non-elastic or silk hair ties

Get regular trims at least 3-4 times per year (get your hair layered if it's very thick)

Try to limit how much you dye or, especially bleach, your hair and do elaborate styles with tons of heat & harsh products

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape:

Embrace minimalist basics (tees, tanks, blouses, sweaters, jeans, trousers, blazers, leather jackets, coats, etc.) in high-quality fabrics (Pima cotton, Merino wool, Tencel, mulberry silk, etc.)

Choose options in black, white, grey, charcoal beige, navy, burgundy, or cream depending on your skin tone and preferences

Invest in a collection of sleek footwear options (black boots, loafers, black pumps, white sneakers, etc.) in minimalist, timeless styles that suit the color palette, hemlines & proportions of your go-to outfits

Ensure your shoes and accessories feel proportional to the weight/silhouette of your outfit, color-coordinate with the rest of your look, and have streamlined hardware from head-to-toe (all silver, all gold, or one piece that mixes silver/gold and another gold & silver piece each to balance out the color palette)

Keep all of your clothes steam and lint-rolled, so they look crisp & fresh all-day

Befriend your tailor to take in or let out clothes as needed when purchased off the rack

Choose clothes/styles that flatter your body shape and proportions

Utilize belts and bra tape to adjust the waist, keep shirts tucked in, and keep straps from falling down or create an impromptu cuff/hem on your pants

When in doubt, select a neutral head-to-toe monochrome outfit

If on a budget, consider choosing black, grey, camel beige items to hide fabric imperfections that could cheapen your look

Choose your accessories wisely:

Select sleek, simple neutral (& almost exclusively) monochrome shoes made with smooth (recycled/vegan) leather with

Pair almost any outfit with a shoe featuring a slight platform, block heel, kitten heel, and/or a sharply pointed toe to elongate your silhouette

Complement your outfit with structured, pared-back handbags with no logos (Focus on quality and construction, not the brand name) in a neutral shade and timeless silhouette

For jewelry, choose at most one statement piece and all others should be focused on different areas of the body (e.g. don't mix statement earrings with layered/bold necklaces or stacked rings * bracelets). When in doubt, choose simple diamond chains or earrings, sleek bangles or chainlink necklaces & bracelets, simple pendant necklaces, and minimalist rings in hardware that all go together

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup:

Cover up any dark circles, blemishes, or hyperpigmentation with a color-matched concealer

Lightly contour with a bronzer that complements your skin tone

Fill in your brows for a naturally full look (or get them professionally tinted)

Apply a light wash of rose, coral, or mauve blush

Use black mascara with a little bit of eyeliner and/or a subtle wash of brown eyeshadow on the lids

Apply a "your lips but better" nude shade or "just kissed' berry lipstick or pigmented lip balm for a subtle wash of color

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple:

Maintain cut, cleaned, and filed short nails

Opt for a square or almond nail shape

Choose a timeless nail shade (pink, nude, red, beige, dark cherry, navy, dark purple, black) with no nail art

Hydrate your hands and scrub under your nails daily

Regarding your signature scent(s):

Ensure your body wash/lotion and perfume scents don't clash

Test perfumes for a trial day to ensure they smell divine with your unique pheromones

Choose a fragrance appropriate for the seasonal/occasion

Apply a dab on each wrist and on your neck/behind the ears. If the scent doesn't project well on you, try applying these small dabs on the cuffs and shoulders of your jacket/walk into it to get it on your hair (if it would stain your clothes)

Don't layer more than one heady perfume at a time or scents that don't have complementary and/or shared notes

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously:

Floss every day (after each meal if possible)

Brush your teeth with an electric toothbrush twice a day

Have mints on hand if you're a garlic, spice, or coffee lover

Keep your lips & hands well-moisturized and protected with SPF

Shower your body daily and be extra diligent in scrubbing your privates, everything behind, and under your arms

Don't use very hot water in the shower (it burns/dries out your skin)

Exfoliate 2-3 times a week with a sugar scrub

Moisturize daily or anytime you get out of the shower

Apply SPF on any exposed sun (especially in the summer or when the UV index is high in your area)

#fashion advice #elegant fashion #styling tips #style tips #style advice #beauty tips #skincare tips #haircare tips #femme fatale #dark feminine energy #dark femininity #high value woman #it girl #the feminine urge #female excellence #dream girl #queen energy #female power #femme fetale aesthetic #glam aesthetic #glow up tips #feminine energy #hygiene tips #girl things #girl talk #elegance #classy life #stylingtips #femmefatalevibe #polished look

[rustedhearts]

melancholy (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: autumns with steve were distinctly blue and melancholy.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ main masterlist

tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, very short, very sad. more of a ficlet.

✶ recommended listening: (dream) by salvia palth & both sides now by joni mitchell

small town connecticut. october 1991.

A wave of thunder roared through the bedroom. A lick of lightning, a slash of white light, shuttered over the bedspread. From the window, left open a crack, a gust of cool air howled through. Beneath the blankets, your body gave a shiver—reaching to pull the cotton shields over your head.

"Honey," he called from somewhere under the blankets. "You left the window open again."

Nose buried in the down feathers of your pillow, you hummed absently. Dug in a little further. Felt the weight of his hand over your waist, slipping through the groove. Expected, comforting, welcome. Against the splashing patters of rain, the whooshing shuffle of his body against the sheets. The damp grass and soiled leaves, the earthen concoction of soil and rain—interrupted by his vetiver musk and a hint of something like bonfire smoke, all toasted to warmth by sleep.

His hair, always softer than yours, hazelnut-brown and growing past his ears, glided against your cheek. As did his mouth, grazing like seeking sustenance in the dark—until the familiar cushion of your mouth, roughened by the briskness of autumn, touched his own. He pressed firmly, bottom lip jutting between your own, tongue lazily sweeping in hello. He kissed until you rolled away from the pillow, and into him.

When he was satisfied with the taste of you on his mouth, he pulled away and shuffled against the mattress. "I'll close it."

His figure, tall and lean, scarcely clothed in dark colors, moved through the blueness of the room. A deep, indigo blue—Joni Mitchell blue, melancholic blue, a blue only October allowed. When he turned in the blue light, streaked over his face paled by the colder months, he was grinning.

"Morning," he soothed.

Partially concealed by the pile of fabrics and colors that made up your bed, he caught only the raise of your brows and crinkle of your eyes—but he knew you were smiling, too.

"Morning, honey."

Four feet—two bare, two flannel-plaid-clad—padded over the hardwood. Wandered over the cold bathroom tile, stained with a rouge mistake near the sink. Shuffled into the kitchen, stopping before the coffee maker to fumble through caffeine assembly. Pattered to the toaster, where two pieces of wheat toast came away crisp and black. Tapped a mindless beat before the stove, where four eggs fried up still runny.

They came together, half socked and half bare, at the small, round wooden table. Toes knocking, ankles sliding, one pair warming the other's foolish forgetfulness as the apartment collected a sharp chill. He burnt the toast and you undercooked the eggs, but neither said a word as forks shoveled and scraped until the dishware was clean.

"You ready to go?" he asked you over the rim of his coffee mug, oatmeal-colored and speckled—purchased at Goodwill for 99 cents five Octobers ago.

You swallowed down your last charcoal bite of crunchy bread. "Almost. Have to do some cleaning up."

You cleared the table, wiped it clean with a damp rag. The sink freed of dishes, the counter clear of crumbs. The windows greyed with the light of storm clouds. It wouldn't let up today. Over the patter of rain, his soft clattering in the bedroom sounded like music. Flipping through records, fluttering through books, ghosting through hangers, spritzing cologne from a pressurized can. He came through the kitchen in a navy blue knitted sweater, dark and padded around his arms; a pair of Levis hugged his backside just perfectly.

As you pulled the rubber dish gloves from your hands, snapping and squeaking with sudsy water, he watched, leaning against the fridge. The watch on his wrist caught a streak of silvery light.

"Ready now?"

You padded over, perching on tip-toes to kiss his chin. Arms winding around his torso, breath taking him and all his cleanness in. "Almost. Shower first."

The hiss of the shower stream convoluted with the rain, melding together until one was difficult to discern from the other. But over the stomp of water, on the other side of the tiled wall and through the whiteness of the shower curtain, his maneuvering persisted. Rummaging and rumbling, drawers rolling closed, hands patting pillows, perfume bottles being straightened after being knocked down by hands moving too quick to slow down.

Wrapped in just a pale, fluffy pink towel, dripping beads of warm water across the floor, emitting steam from a stream set too high on hot—he watched you from the sofa, a book perched between his hands, as you strode into the closet. Flicked through hangers, lips pursing and nose scrunching at every distasteful option.

He placed his book face-down against the tattered cushion of the couch before returning to the bedroom. The top drawer of the dresser hummed open, clunked back closed.

"Here, honey," he cooed, holding out a bundle of deep green wool.

It smelled like him as it went over your head. It felt like being held beneath the blinding white and neon red of a movie theater sign on a cold November night while you waited for your friends. It felt like curling up on the couch when the days were too long, and the warmest, coziest place in the world was his lap, pressed against his thigh. It felt like the first time he met your parents at Thanksgiving dinner, full of bloated bellies and the stench of meat clinging to your hair and his hands for hours. The candied sweetness of a day through town when you were supposed to be at college, but the weather was too brisk and the trees were too vibrant to waste, and his propositions were not easily ignored.

The jeans were yours, the boots you pulled on, too—but the socks stuffed beneath the stiff leather were his. Plucked from his drawer when he wandered back to the living room to his book. Unfurled from their rumpled ball, plucked free of hair and lint, squished down at the calves to fit snugly around your ankles.

Your perfume and his cologne came to a symphony of scents that you only associated with home. The blueness of the living room deepened in all your stalling, and when you came to stand in the doorway, dressed in half his clothes, an ache like hunger festered in your chest.

He smiled again, overwhelmed with adoration, and snapped his book shut. "Ready now?"

You nodded. He stood, the old springs of the cushion weeping with relief of removed weight. His boots clunked over the carpet, flat and thin and found on the side of the road in a pile of garbage. A road trip to New York in the dead of summer.

He placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you close. In the center of the living room, as the rain trickled down the windowsill and filled the room with earthen sour, he kissed you. Sweet, tender, full of aching mouths like all his kisses were. His slender, pulsing fingers buried their way into the hair gathered at the nape of your neck; his thumbs pressed at the underside of your jaw, right where your heart sang just for him. The melody in your bones swept into a crescendo until he pulled away.

Even then, under his hazel-speckled eyes and long, straight-bridged nose, it couldn't stop crying for him.

"Come on," he murmured, a softness gracing his face. "It's time."

You kept the radio off in the car, let the ping of rain on the windshield soothe the drive. His hand cupped over your denim thigh, tapping aimlessly at the occasional stoplight. And the blueness gathered in the car, too. A deep, bruised blue that curdled your blood like spoiled milk. A blue that felt like drowning. A blue that burned if you peered for too long, like the hottest flame on a gas stove burner.

The tires crunched over gravel and flattened down slick grass. Slipped through the sludge and soup of mud. You carefully put the gear in park when you reached the edge of the road. The engine dinged as your seatbelt slipped back against the door, and ceased only when you yanked the keys from the ignition to slip them in your pocket. In the backseat, he left a sturdy raincoat for days like today. You pulled it over your head and zipped it to your chin before stepping out.

The walk was just down the hill and up another to the right. Winding through grey stone monuments, careful of crushing windblown and rain-wilted flowers and tokens of affection as you went. Hands tucked into the warmth and dryness of your pockets, you watched your feet collect wet soil and mark their way through a familiar path. The rain began to slant sideways, beating against the canvas of your raincoat and covered ears with gentle fury.

And despite the wetness and the messiness of the earth, you sank down to the ground when you reached the end of your journey. Flat on your butt, legs tucked into each other with every intention to stay. From your pocket, a tightly-closed silver thermos of steaming coffee, swiped on the way out of the house.

You placed it on the gleaming silver stone and swiped away the blades of grass and yellow leaves that came to say hello.

"I made it, Stevie," you told him, sighing into the cold.

Thunder grumbled through the clouds, married with another lick of white lightning. You smiled, easing into the wisps of wind seeping through the raincoat hood. Coldness kissed your cheeks and numbed your nose. The scent of him under your coat felt as precious and rare and holy as he did when he was still around.

Though Steve said his goodbye, you'd never stop coming to say your hellos.

#rolly! #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington ficlet #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x you #joe keery #joe keery fic #joe keery fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve stranger things #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction

[gosmigenergy]

MY BUNNY VALENTINE

( Benny Miller x F!Reader )

Summary: When Benny says he’s just heading out, you don’t expect him to return with a big surprise.

Rating: Mature 18+

Warnings: Language, mentions of food, biting, dry humping, slapping if you squint, fingering, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), biting, marking, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 3.3k

It was one of those rare occasions where Benny didn’t wake you up when he woke up. He got up and pulled on his gym gear when his phone pinged from his side of the bed, his eyes flicking to you even though you hadn’t even moved.

The corner of his lips quirked when he read the message and for today, he saw it best to kill two birds with one stone and go to the gym to catch up with his other boys. Coming back with a morning brew, he shook you gently. He should have anticipated your reaction as you groaned, burying yourself further into the duvet.

“Bunny,” his voice was soft as he brushed the hair from your face.

Your brows knotted before your eyes opened to thin slits, lids still heavy.

“Benny?”

You croaked on your enquiry, it was early, far too early.

“I’m heading out to the gym, gonna do a couple of things while I’m out, want anything?”

You yawn, “I’m good, thanks.”

Your eyes fall shut and he watches as your head sinks deeper into the pillow. Leaning forward, he kisses your crown before he steps out of the room, closing the door with his lightest touch.

When you finally came to, his apartment was quiet. Pulling on your t-shirt and the nearest pair of sweatpants, you stagger from the bedroom, rubbing your eyes. You call his name a few times, peeking into his office and gym before accepting the fact he wasn’t home. Checking your phone, the late morning time reflects back at you.

He’s usually back by now… unless he did a longer session?

You’re not one to message to ask where the hell he is but when you rummage around the kitchen, finding nothing satisfactory, you find a reason to get in contact.

‘Lunch?’

You put your phone in your pocket, you feel the weight of it fall further than usual. Looking down, you realise the difference in fabric before your brain finally processed you were wearing his - more caffeine was needed.

As you waited for the water to boil, there was a chirp.

‘Already sorted darlin 😘’

You react with a heart, Benny knew you too well.

On your days off, especially at the boys’ places, you do your best to relax and much to Benny’s annoyance, you’d really gotten into playing on his Switch. You took the controls from him so much, he’d just added your name to his device and watched as you replay everything he’d already done, teasing you just a little for not being as good.

Keys jostled in the lock and you immediately pause the game, jumping from your seat.

His face lit up when he saw you, “Hey, Bunny.”

“Hey, need some help?”

“If you don’t mind taking these,” he hands you a few bags, “there’s one more thing I need to get from the car.”

You peek into the one bag to see what’s for lunch.

“I’ll dish up,” you say, wandering to the kitchen.

There were a few places Benny liked to go to so it was always exciting to see what he picked up. You pull out a glass bottle of fizzy orange and instantly knew he’d been to the truck not far from the gym. The second bottle was lemon and there were two intricately wrapped, somehow still warm burritos. You open up a cupboard, balancing on your tiptoes as you went to get plates, the door slammed behind Benny as he came back in.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!”

You gasp.

Leaning from behind the door, you see him, his face taken over by his white smile whilst the rest of him was hidden behind a giant bunny plush.

“It’s huge!”

“I know,” he was chuckling as your face remained stunned. “You gonna come get it?”

Giggling, you run over to him and he handed it over. The fluffy texture engulfed you and you found yourself snuggling deeper into it’s softness, taking a big breath in to smell it’s crisp clean smell, the faintest hint of his aftershave clinging to the fibres.

“Where did you find this?”

“Just a random secondhand store, it was in the window and I couldn’t resist.”

“I bet you got some looks.”

Oh, he did but the moment he mentioned it was for his girlfriend, people’s expressions changed except the woman at the cleaners. She was not impressed when he turned up, asking if there was any possibility they knew how to clean this bunny. Rolling her eyes, she snatched the bunny from him and said two weeks, handing him a scrap of paper with an amount probably double the price it should be.

He flicked the ears out of the way so he could catch your sparkling eyes.

“It was worth it.”

The temperature rose in your cheeks and you found yourself trying to hide even more behind the stuffed toy.

“Know what you’re gonna call him?”

You were slow to respond.

“Mr Bunny,” you finally said.

He cocked his head to one side, “I was expecting something a little more imaginative.”

“He’s wearing a bowtie, he’s a sophisticated gentleman.”

Benny hums, nodding though he was pandering to you with a smirk on his face. You huff, turning on your heels and heading back to the kitchen.

“Fine,” you glance over your shoulder, “me and Mr Bunny will eat the burritos and you can make yourself something.”

“Hey, I worked hard for that burrito!”

For the rest of the day, you barely moved from the couch, except for freshening up when Benny insisted the pair of you at least walked around the block and you also handed back his sweatpants. After that, you found yourself snuggled up with him one side and the newly appointed Mr Bunny on the other.

Benny was beginning to regret his decision in getting you that giant teddy.

Sure, a little part of him had wanted to one up his brother ever since Will won you a big plush Grogu at the arcade, which you then proceeded to take with you to their parents when you were threatened and ultimately ended up in a bedroom in the main house, separated from the boys in the barn. Will had never mentioned how the other teddy got in the way or maybe it was because you had something new to play with that he was only slightly starting to feel like a third wheel.

He squirmed in his seat for what felt like the twentieth time tonight.

“Is something up, babe?”

In the warm glow of the lampshade, you look up at him doe-eyed.

“No,” he sighed before a long pause. “Maybe.”

You fluttered your lashes at him, lips piercing as one arm tightens around Mr Bunny. He hone in on the oversized teddy, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re jealous of Mr Bunny.” 

You lean away from him like you’re scared he’ll take it away.

“Only a little.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re obsessed with him.”

“Aaaw,” you say almost sarcastically, “am I starving you of attention, Benny?”

Except Benny wasn’t listening, he wasn’t even looking, he was fully focused on that goddamn bunny. It was the first time you’d ever seen his gorgeous green eyes go dark and his smile turned into a straight line.

“Give me the bunny,” he growled softly.

“No,” you huff.

You make a show of shuffling yourself to the opposite side of the couch, wrapping your arms around the neck of the teddy, pouting.

What happened next is exactly how you imagined him and Will might have resolved something like this when they were younger. Benny pounced like a lion who had seen his prey and held himself effortlessly above you, boxing you in with his arms and legs.

Squealing, you go to fight back, lifting your legs ready to thrash but he pins his knees to keep your thighs together before sitting inches above the trapped limbs. Wriggling your way out is useless yet it doesn’t stop you trying, your upper body writhing and twisting to try and get the teddy away from him. He watches as your expression scrunches and you moan sweetly as you attempt to escape.

He doesn’t move, he simply bides his time.

It takes you a minute to realise he’s not actually doing anything to you or Mr Bunny.

First you stop, your back firmly against the cushions of the couch then you open your eyes, panting gently to catch your breath. He’s so close your noses almost touch, staring intently as his lips form into a smug smile.

“Give me one good reason why I’m better than Mr Bunny and I may let you go.”

You blink up at him, mouth twitching as you thought of what to say.

“Ok, he’s fluffy and soft and good to snuggle…”

His eyebrows raised, you were losing him.

“But he can’t fuck me like you do.”

His face instantly changed, his beaming smile returning as he leant closer and brushed the tip of his nose against yours.

“How about we show him how it’s done?”

You giggle, loosening your grip on the teddy as his one hand came to rest over it’s face. He pulled it from between you in one motion, leaning back to tuck it into the corner where he once sat, returning his attention back to you.

“He’s not looking at us.”

What you said sounded innocent enough but Benny’s one eyebrow arched.

“How else is he gonna learn?”

Chuckling, he shakes his head and repositions Mr Bunny so the plastic eyes are focused on you.

“Better?”

He looks to you and you nod happily.

Within a second, he engulfs you, his palms pressed against your cheeks as he crashes his lips into yours. He’s feverish, taking the air from your lungs as he forces his tongue into your mouth and roams around. Your muscles begin to loosen and you allow him to take you any way he pleases.

He finally lets you breath, moving his kisses over your chin and down your neck, hands roaming over the swell of your breasts. Your nipples harden even under your t-shirt as his fingers teased the hemline. A moan escapes your lips when he buries himself into the crook of your neck, sucking gently, hiking up the material.

Your hands instinctively chase him as he shuffles back to plant kisses on your stomach, his chin grazing the elastic of your sleep shorts. Sinking your fingers into his dirty blonde locks, he follows your pull, dragging his tongue towards to middle of your tits. He kisses the curve of one before flicking his tongue around your nipple, taking it in his mouth. You fist his hair tighter then let go when he releases it.

He sighs, “I do miss the piercings.”

The piercings lasted a few months until you found them a problem. They were aesthetically pleasing and the boys, Benny and Santiago in particular, did like them but you could never get used to them. And you thought your nipples were sensitive beforehand, now it was a whole new level.

“Still happy to play with them though,” you giggle.

He cups a nipple in his mouth again, humming, the vibrations causing your arousal to pool. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stifle the moan, feeling him smile knowing exactly what he’d done. Releasing himself with a pop, he straightened his back and slapped your tits playfully before lifting up his legs. 

He coiled his arms in between his thighs and guided your legs out and over his, palms moving to your hips to lift you up. Edging forward, he began to fold you in half as you wrapped your legs around his lean frame then his hips grinds against your covered pussy, a honeyed sigh comes from deep.

“Feels good, hm?”

Your eyelids flutter shut as he rolls his hips again, your head falling back to the couch.

Benny would only blame you for how hard he already was. You were pinned under his weight, grunting sweetly as you tried to overthrow him was fucking better than any opponent in the ring. He felt his cock stiffen the moment your ass ate your shorts and revealed more bare thigh, even Mr Bunny couldn’t hide that one.

He slipped one hand up the leg hole, fingertips reaching for your slick folds, searching for your clit behind the damp fabric.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, lower back jolting.

Looks like he wasn’t the only one who got worked up in the struggle.

Taking two fingers, he scoops your juice and softly draws circles on the bundle of nerves. You whimper, back arching to his touch as the tingling starts to spread across the muscles, your legs locking against him. He works you until you’re gasping for air, chest heaving, face burrowed into the nearest decorative cushion then suddenly he stops, slipping his hand from the confines of your shorts.

You whine at the lose of touch.

“Mr Bunny doesn’t want you to come yet,” he says, sucking the end of his fingers, your tang waking up his tastebuds.

“I don’t think he’d say that, he’s on my side.”

He laughs, “Nah, he wants to see me stretch that pussy first.”

You yelp as Benny grabs your elastic waistband and coaxes you to unlock your legs before he tugs your shorts off roughly. Tossing them to the side, you watch his hands move to his sweatpants, the small dark spot an indicator for the precum that seeped through the material. His cock swung freely as he hitched down the waistband.

He picks up your hips, resting them on his thighs as he takes one hand to his hardened length, lining it up to your opening. Running through folds, he uses your juices to lubricate his tip before pushing it gently into you. You sigh, head falling back, offering your neck for him to take as he continues to sink his cock inside.

Taking one hand from your hip, he leans forward and places the palm directly next to your cheek. Hovering over you again, he smiles, his stray hairs falling to your face and your chest begins to flush.

You feel him pulling out, the drag of his cock trapped amongst your inner walls and you wrap your legs around his lower back. The pair of you give a harmonious moan that fills the air, one that makes you forget whatever you were watching on the television. Actually, with how close he was, he took over each of your senses, making you forget you were even in a room.

Mr Bunny wasn’t even an afterthought, it was nothing but Benny.

He snapped his hips, filling you to the hilt, taking your breath away in the process. Holding his cock inside, your walls flutter around his form, the warmth spreading across your belly. He goes again and again, each stroke brushing lightly against that sweet spot, the one once hit just right will have you screaming his name.

And that’s what he wants to hear.

He’s never been so hungry for you before. Drunk off your cute, little squeaks, high from breathing in the delicate scent of your perfume. Slowly, your own pleasure builds, the sweat clinging to your hairline as he pants hotly over your skin. You’ve had to close your eyes and drop your head to one side, concealing your melting expression from his sharp gaze.

As he draws himself out, you mewl at the lose, the grip of your legs strengthening as you chase his cock. He soothes you with a soft caress of your side before he changes his position slightly, your hips becoming a fraction higher.

“Bunny, look at me.”

You peer out from the cushion, the muscles in your arms loosening. He appeared equally as flushed, the heat between you searing despite the noticeable chill in the middle of your bodies. It was a brief moment of calm then his fingers squeeze three times and all you can do is nod feebly.

“That’s my girl,” he throws a wink in your direction.

Your girl, you blush.

Holding you steady, he seamlessly slips back into your weeping cunt and his tip presses right where he wants it.

“Oh my god,” the final vowel extends.

He props himself up over you, his nose rubbing against yours. Rolling his hips, he hits the spot again sharply, catching your cry in his mouth as he kisses you. With each thrust, he captures every sweet sound you give. Your legs vibrate against him, fingers clawing helplessly at the couch as his movements grow frantic.

His teeth sink into your bottom lip as he comes up for air.

He drops his head, eyes focusing on how his length lips in and out of you with ease, your juices flowing as your pussy sucks him back down.

“Benny, Benny, fuck.”

Your stomach grows taut, your toes curling against his back.

“That’s it, darlin’, keep saying my name.”

How did that manage to turn you on more? The squelch of your walls as he pushed harder and harder filled the space, it was almost obscene but he was basking in it. Your arousal was spreading, sticking to the hairs that lines the end of his cock and he looked back to you. You were almost there and his eyes fell to the crook of your neck, his tongue flicking across his lips. He folded you in half to sink his teeth into your flesh.

That’s when the knot in you belly snapped and you came apart screaming his name.

Now he understood why Santiago bit you occasionally, the release was so intense, he’s sure his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Your pussy trapped him within your pulsating walls until you milked him dry. His jaw relaxed, a single string of saliva clinging to you as he lifted his heavy head.

You lay beneath him, chest heaving as the aftershocks continued to dance across your body legs finally giving in.

He kissed where he’d left marks on your skin, soothing laps of the tongue before his lips pressed deeper then he delivered them up your neck, your jaw. Brushing the hair from your face, he crashes into your lips and refuses to let go until you’re struggling to breath, swatting his chest with your palm.

He traces the bite with his fingertips.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You cup his cheek, trailing a thumb along the bone.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you say smiling.

He swiftly kisses your palm, “I’ll get something to clean you up.”

Pulling out of you, he eases your back to the couch before climbing off and heading to the bathroom. You tug your t-shirt down over your breasts and sit up, bringing your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them. Mr Bunny sat opposite you, had fallen forward it what you would joke was shock or an attempt to get a view but you know it was because Benny plowed you into the cushion at full force.

Who knew a giant teddy could get him so riled up.

“Want a drink?”

You looked over your shoulder as he wandered over and handed you a cool damp face cloth. Hugging the fabric to your neck, the change in temperature softens the tension you didn’t realise was there.

“I’m good, thanks babe.”

“Alright, I’ll get you a water.”

You laugh, he always made sure you stayed hydrated.

Returning with two bottles of water, he opens a top and gives it to you. You happily accept, taking a sip as he lifts your legs up by the ankles and slides underneath, draping your limbs over his thighs.

He spreads you open, notes how his cum has started to dribble from your pussy. Carefully, he tucks a towel between your legs and wipes away the excess. You hum, tipping your head to the side as you watch him intently. Once he finishes cleaning you up, he meets your face to admire you in your dishevelled, post sex appearance and as always, the temperature rises in your cheeks.

“Fancy a snuggle?” His head cocks to the plush beside him.

“Nah,” you say, scooting your ass closer as you drape an arm over his chest, tucking your head under his chin. “He doesn’t have a stitch on you.”

#triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier smut #benny miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #smut #valentines fic

[cromerholt]

coffee caffeine: steady, reliable, even refined. a complex profile. not overly aggressive, it displays a polite restraint rarely seen in stimulants

red bull caffeine: hypnotically european. sharp, crisp. a drink with a superiority complex. every word spoken to you is heard somehow in clean, grotesque fonts. you speak a bit of german now. sudden interest in formula 1 and rallycross.

monster caffeine: hypnotically american. you just bought a gopro. you’re talking too loud at parties. is that an affliction t shirt youre wearing? no… you wouldn’t… sudden interest in snowboarding and bmx

nos: this is not sustainable. you should quit now, while you’re ahead. the world is dark, but there is beauty left, in the rare corners and in guarded secrets. you must never forget that. hold your heart close, and remember there is life to live beyond the gleaming blue cannister.

[thesalemwitchtries]

Dreaming Of a Grave: Chapter Three

Word Count: 3,284

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Named! Fem! Enhanced! Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries sustained through physical assault (no implication of sexual assault at all, so maybe goons beat reader up in her apartment, but they weren't total pricks about it?), imagery/description of injury- metaphorical, distrust of police/government, Catholic Guilt written by an actual Catholic, so yk... its like organic or something, overuse of the series comma, thoughts of violence, Matt being so close to understanding Claire's points about personal safety.

Masterlist

Thank you so much for reading! Any comments or feedback are much appreciated!

It wasn’t often that Matt had cause to doubt his abilities, but arriving at Tully’s apartment building had left him unsure if he’d be able to pick out the workmen amongst all of the other… possibilities. The first two floors were a mix of junkies and vacated apartments formerly owned by junkies, and each level after got cleaner. 

Still, aside from the few apartments that seemed to have taken Tully’s deal, the building was full of families and people. On the fourth floor, three apartments had newborns, one of them a set of twins. The garbage chute had never been cleaned, and was clogged before it reached the trash compactor outside. The workers had destroyed the central wiring, leaving the hall lights to buzz overhead. Amongst the other smells, evidence of the lack of water struck at his nose. 

How was he supposed to find the scents of two men buried under all of this? Beyond the grime of the street and the unfortunate living situations of the addicts, the building was full of the fragrance of so many lives.

Every person’s scent was unique. They were reflections of an individual’s humanity: body chemistry, habits, environment all mingling together into an olfactory fingerprint. 

If Matt didn’t know Foggy by name, he’d know him by the way his love for garlic clung to him, the spicier scent of a nervous sweat, and how he’d gotten hooked on coconut conditioner from an old girlfriend. And especially by the way Matt could tell he loved to laugh, little hints of it hanging around as pheromones echoing in his ears. 

Charlotte Tanner had a scent like Foggy’s and unlike any other he’d encountered. It was less chemical than most with subtle hints of cocoa butter lotion, she liked to use mint and rosemary, liked burning candles and giving ham to her very round cat. A mix of plants lined the windowsill and her skin, her ferns were thriving; the cacti bloated with overwatering. The scent of a computer, like plastic, metal, and dust all-in-one. Electronics and various mechanical components filled a corner of the apartment with their metallic tang. Then there was her: human, clean, healthy although over-caffeinated. 

Above all of it, was a bright and citrus-y joy. Hope and positivity steeped into the floorboards, nearly hiding the more recents wisps of anxiety. Matt worried that may be the only lasting trace of the visit from Tully’s ‘handymen’.

His knock on the door inspired a wave of bitter panic that prickled at his nose. Ms. Tanner’s pulse raced as she looked through the peephole, before her heartbeat peaked and the fear ebbed. Matt assumed that to be the moment she noticed his glasses and cane, his apparent harmlessness causing her to unlock the door and drop the chain. 

“Hello sir, this is apartment 15, can I help you?” Crisp, polite, and effective.

Something with wheels whirred up behind her, tucking itself behind her legs. It seemed to be about the height of a medium dog, and in terrible shape. On one side the hydraulics were running sluggishly and making a soft chugging noise, the thin metal casing was busted, paint scratched. Matt couldn’t decide what the machine’s purpose was. One of those robot vacuums probably. He’d been thinking about getting Foggy one for Christmas.

“Yes, is this Ms. Tanner?” Matt kept his expression clear, taking a deep breath to try and build a map of the apartment and the people who had been there. He could smell Brett and the stale cigar smoke that belied his mother, and Mrs. Cardenas had been there almost every day. 

“Um, yes?” she replied. The door swiftly closed halfway, shielding her body from him now that she knew Matt wasn’t lost, that he was there to see her. The little robot zipped to her feet, humming OLED display eyes also peering through the crack in the door. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

“No, I’d guess not,” Matt shrugged, tilting his head to focus on her rising pulse and the groan of her injuries. His train of thought was derailed by the mystery of what had been done to her. 

Filtering out the rest of the building and the sound of her brows furrowing in confusion, Matt tried to piece together what had happened. Across her side were hairline fractures on two ribs, a still dark bruise, and bean-shaped swelling. Then he caught it, almost drowned out by the scent of water from old pipes, soap, and lotion; there was a hint of rubber and the grime that lined the streets of New York. Have your face meet the pavement one time in a fight and you wouldn’t need senses like his for it to haunt you. 

Pieces clicked together. She was on the ground when she was kicked, possibly stomped on. Fists clenching around the handle of his cane, Matt resolved to help her, before finally responding.

“Sorry, that was rude of me, I’m Matt Murdock,” he stuck his hand out gently, pleased when she only hesitated slightly before taking it. As they shook hands, he felt the mostly healed scabs on her knuckles. So she got a few hits in— he was strangely proud. Good job sweetheart, never make it easy for ‘em.

“Gr-greeetingss st-teeeameed gueeest,” the little robot said from between her feet, moving back and forth on treaded tires in way that reminded Matt of someone swaying on their feet. The voice was tinny and crackled— the speaker had been damaged, and its speech was drawn out and wavery. Matt had no idea that robots could slur their words.

“Igor, hush,” she said sharply, nudging it back with her foot.

“St-st-teeeameed gueeest! I-iii-i am Igooorrr!” the thing spoke again, ignoring its chastising owner.

“It’s 'eh-steemed' guest,” she emphasized, “You’re getting mixed up with steamed vegetables,”

“You are our e-esteemed-d guest-egetables,” was the loud and almost proud reply. Matt couldn’t hold back a laugh, feeling the warm rush of blood across Charlotte’s face as she finally managed to knock the robot back into her apartment. It zipped off in a winding path, stuttering something about getting a water-glass of waters.

“Sorry, he uhhh- he needs a few repairs.”

Matt nodded, raising his gaze so that it landed somewhere near her eyeline. “Yeah, I’ve been told that’s been going around lately,”

Her spine straightened, the sheepish smile vanishing in a second as the hairs at the back of her neck rose, and her voice was firm as she spoke, “I’m not sure what you mean, I think that you’re in the wrong place.”

“I’m with Nelson and Murdock, representing Mrs. Cardenas and other tenants in the building against your landlord, Armand Tully. She addressed concerns that you had been physically assaulted by—”

Hearing the strain of her arm, Matt slid his cane into the doorjamb, preventing it from slamming closed in his face. The wind ruffled his hair back, but his expression remained fixed. Ms. Tanner tried to hide a grumble, but Matt caught that too as she opened the door back up to his faux-innocent face.

“Ms. Tanner, is everything alright?”

“Yes. Thank you for asking. Leave.”

Matt stood firmly in place. The floorboards creaked under her shifting weight, hand resting on her cocked hip with a huff. Lot of attitude considering I am trying to help you.

“Now.”

“I promised Mrs. Cardenas that I’d speak with you, please, hear me out.”

Not entirely true, but the words had spilled out of his mouth as a frantic need rose inside him. Maybe it was the nature of being a lawyer, but he’d never had to fight someone else to just let him help them before.

People came to him, they asked for his help, and standing across from this woman, so reluctant, had him on the edge of his comfort zone. Matt already felt guilty enough for what had happened. Right here, in the city that he swore to protect. Now the only way to alleviate that guilt required her to help him to help her, and they were clearly diametrically opposed in that regard.

Another put-upon sigh echoed from the depths of her chest. It almost had Matt believing that he was asking her to spend an afternoon explaining email scams to the elderly, rather than offering her assistance. “Okay, alright.”

“Whatever you’re afraid of, my partner and I can help you. You were assaulted in your own home, you deserve to feel safe again, and the men who did this deserve to be punished.” Matt had both hands wrapped around his cane, unable to stop himself from leaning forward in an earnest display. The door creaked closed just a bit more, and Matt straightened again, pleading with her. “We can help you, we’ll go down to the station with you to help you file a police report if you’d like, to make sure that they take your case seriously.”

“I appreciate your concern, but nothing happened to me.” 

His head tilted, the irregular skip in her heart telling him that it was a lie. Not that he needed to hear it, aside from the injuries slathered in a thick layer of makeup, Ms. Tanner was not a gifted liar. Everything about her demeanor told Matt that she’d say anything just to get him to leave.

“Tully, these men, they can’t just get away with what they’ve done.”

The sleeves of her sweater were being pinched and worried between her fingers, her thumb picking at a hole in the cuff. Matt heard the shift of her feet, the deep breath that filled her chest as she steadied herself. Abandoning any pretense of eye contact, her head slumped forward between her shoulders. 

“They’re not getting away with anything, no one touched me.” Another lie, this one mingled with a heavy sigh. There was a desperate tone to her voice where before there’d been exasperation.

A memory came to mind, of the nuns at St. Agnes watching old movies after hours. The kind with pretty women and sad endings, dames looking for trouble and bad guys meeting the fist of justice. They never had particularly happy endings, but he didn't mind that too much, it felt more realistic. Matt had preferred listening to them over the more chaotic alternatives outside of the church grounds, imagining his dad as the down-on-his-luck detective until he fell asleep missing his hero.

Hearing her voice, free from the crackle of old television speakers, it almost felt too raw. Matt could only pray that Ms. Tanner’s story wouldn’t be another similarity, dread sinking into the pit of his stomach. Just because it felt like a portent didn’t mean that it was one. 

“Going to the police can help.” Matt couldn’t help but repeat himself, as if there was some magic number of times that she had to hear it before finally agreeing. “Ms. Tanner, I will help you. I promise.”

Her head swung up to look at him, and Matt felt a prick of hurt when her head shook just the slightest bit. Obviously her disbelief wasn’t personal, but it stung nonetheless.

“No, police would just make everything worse,” she said, and Matt snapped to attention.

General fear of authority and the law was intangible, and in Ms. Tanner’s case seemed to be deeply ingrained. It wasn’t exactly in his wheelhouse to fight something like that. If she was being threatened though… he readjusted his grip, head tilting just a tick.

“Has someone been here? Did they threaten you?” 

“What?” Ms. Tanner sputtered, and Matt’s focus narrowed in on her, ready to catch any sign of a lie as it passed by. “No, that’s not— just stop.”

The exasperation had returned with a vengeance, one foot twitching in a move just shy of being a stomp. Abandoning the door, Ms. Tanner’s hands gestured sharply in the space between them. Her pulse was raised in agitation, but remained disappointingly honest beneath her clipped tone.

“I told you: no one touched me, no one threatened me. Thanks for checking in, Mr. Whoever, now please leave.”

Matt suppressed a frustrated groan, why did this have to be so hard? Is this how Claire felt when he ignored her advice and pulled stitches? No, this had to be much worse. All that was at stake was her own safety, it was maddening how easily she dismissed it. Why couldn’t she just let him help her? He wished there was a way to just make her talk, to get her to trust him. 

Even if she didn’t want help, she’d literally been kicked while she was down, and Matt was just supposed to let that go? Let it slide that a woman no longer felt safe in her home, and all for what? For whatever profits Armand Tully saw in evicting his tenants? Matt didn’t think so.

They both flinched at the sound of a crash from inside her apartment, the shattering of glass set Matt’s teeth on edge until the robot’s tinny voice cried out to the doorway.

“Nooo worr-ry-y! Ig-gor m-make mis-istake, but I-Iii-gor try agaaain-n.”

Ms. Tanner’s lips twitched into a smile, a fond huff of air leaving her even as she fixed Matt with the weight of her stare. A foot tap and the pointed clearing of her throat made it clear that his time was up.

“Right, it was nice to meet you Ms. Tanner. I’m Matt Murdock, if you change your mind or have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call.” 

With that, Matt held out a business card, his casual and professional demeanor hiding the desperation underneath. He needed her to take it, he needed her to want his help. As the Devil he could swoop in and fight off any intruder, never having to ask permission to rescue people. Matt Murdock however, had rules to follow or risk being disbarred. It was almost enough to make him itch and whine like a flea-bitten dog.

C’mon, take the damn card, please.

Just when it’d become a concerted effort to stop his hand from shaking, her eyes finally stopped darting around in thought. Options weighed, Ms. Tanner’s fingers brushed against his again as she took the card. It left him feeling too light as she turned back into her apartment, multiple locks clicking into place between them. Accepting the card didn’t mean she was accepting his help, it wasn’t even a foot in the door, but it was at least something.

The fact that he happened to like the feel of her skin and the scent of her lotion was irrelevant. 

Floorboards creaked, and Matt suddenly realized that it was weird for him to be hanging around the door. She had lingered too, a nervous eye to the peephole as she watched him turn towards the stairwell and leave. Matt could hear her press her forehead against the door and breathe, the small robot rolling up behind her.

“W-water for-or-r g-guest-egetablessss,” Igor declared proudly, a half-full glass of water balanced on the tray that it held above its head. Drips fell from the edge of the tray, several puddles of water barely contained by its lip.

“Good job Igor, but he’s gone,”

“I-Igor-r w-ill wai-ait.” More water sloshed out onto the tray as the robot bobbed once in facsimile of a decisive nod. Matt paused at the top of the stairs, unsure what exactly he was waiting to hear.

“Don’t bother,” Ms. Tanner muttered, grabbing the glass and mopping up the water, “It’ll be a good thing if we never see that guy again. I don’t care how pretty he is, he’s still a lawyer, that means he’s bad news.”

Matt was conflicted behind his smugly twisted smile. While it wasn’t his ideal descriptor, he could work with pretty. He couldn’t work with her having an innate prejudice against his career.

In her kitchen, the lid of a trash can opened, and she stood holding the card over it for a long time, tracing across the lettering. Matt’s shoulders dropped from around his ears when the lid closed, and she tacked the card up beside her refrigerator. It felt like a win, like some small acknowledgement that she didn’t have to be afraid. 

He was also going to take it as a green light to let the Devil out, if she wouldn't involve the police these guys could go unpunished, Matt could fix that. When he found those guys, he’d be sure to get in the same hits that she had, from someone their size. When that was done he’d dole out their penance of twice the fear and pain that they’d given her.

It was dangerous and he knew it, this tendency of his to make things personal, yet he was unable to stop himself every time. Neither a conscious decision nor a slippery slope, Matt would just find himself devoted to mere strangers in the space of a blink. There was some innate need or urge inside of him that was tying himself to others without consideration, and Ms. Tanner was the latest victim. 

Anything that happened to her from this point on would be Matt’s fault, a failing or an attack on him. It was personal before he even stood in front of her door, before she had invaded his every sense. He would help her because it was the right thing to do, but he needed to keep her safe because it would protect him too, in a way. 

Failing the people that he cared about was like missing the step off of a curb, skidding across the pavement. Road rash had been collecting across his conscience and heart during the past few weeks as the Devil; last night’s failure to protect Claire was a face plant. Recovering from it felt like picking bits of asphalt out of his cheeks, burning and stinging in a way that couldn’t be ignored, only dulled.

Every night he listened as dozens of crimes were committed across the city, too many people to save at once. But, there was also the sound of college girls giggling on the streets, safe from the fate of a shipping container. There was a boy that slept sound in his bed, his father sleeping on the ground because he couldn’t bear being too far away from his son again. He could hear teens playing video games and mothers bundling their kids up to visit the park. People that he had saved, living their lives around him.

Matt needed to hear these things, to know that the Devil was doing something useful. That a drop in the bucket was still a positive change. Upstairs, Ms. Tanner was repairing her robot, talking it through the steps even while it was powered off. He wondered what she would be doing when he listened for her that night.

Like always, failure was not an option, and still felt inevitable. In an ouroborean way, he’d already failed, what happened to Ms. Tanner was his fault, due to his inaction. Matt knew about the window, the guy blackmailing that juror had told him. Was probably even scared enough to have told him more, like where the building was. Then he could’ve been at the epicenter, tracking people following Fisk’s orders, preventing things like this. Instead, his one track mind had gotten the best of him, and who knows how many people had been hurt as a result.

The sinking sun warmed his face, a contrast to the chill air that tugged at his coat as Matt exited out onto the street. He just had a stop at the station, and then it'd nightfall, where he’d have another opportunity to do the right thing for Hell’s Kitchen.

Thanks for reading, have a good day <;3

Next chapter is Karen's turn, and we all know that one of her superpowers is people skills... Also I don't know if anyone's interested, but I lmk if you'd like and I'll tag people to chapters when they come out.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x enhanced!reader #matt murdock x y/n #slim ficc #doag #dreaming of a grave

[harrywavycurly]

Hey Sarah I just want some sassy conversations with Eddie if that’s possible? Thank you 💕

Hiiii babes!! Of course it’s possible I love sassy and sarcastic conversations with Edward Munson! You’re very welcome, I hope you enjoy!!💖

*Eddie loves you but sometimes he swears you do things just to annoy him*

“Uh baby why is there toilet paper…everywhere?” “Oh they had a sale it was like ten packs of the six roll bags for ten bucks so I couldn’t pass it up.” “You…bought sixty rolls of toilet paper?” “Yes…and also forty rolls of paper towels and ten canisters of my favorite coffee.” “Oh lovely, so you’ll be heavily caffeinated and ready to either wipe your ass or clean up a spill…sounds great.” “You’re such an asshole.”

“Oh come on you know I’ve always wanted one and we have enough room for it.” “Baby do we really need one?” “No one needs a fucking hot tub Eddie…I just want one and Santa told me I’m on his good list so…I think I deserve one.” “You on the good list? You sure you were talking to Santa and not Satan? It’s a common mix up.” “I can’t stand you.” “Sorry baby but really a hot tub? That’s really want you want?” “Yes. Just imagine after a long day you just go in there and relax and…you can skinny dipping in it…” “skinny dipping? In this neighborhood? Everyone is too nosey for all that princess.” “Oh let ‘em look if they want I’ll be too busy enjoying my hot tub to give a shit.”

“Baby? Did…did you light something of fire? It smells like smoke.” “No.” “No? Then why is that pan of…are those muffins?…all black and burnt to a crisp?” “I didn’t light them on fire…they might have caught on fire.” “That’s the same thing sweetheart.” “Uh no it’s not. Lighting something on fire means you want it to be on fire…something catching fire typically means it wasn’t meant to be on fire but something happened and now it’s in flames.” “So your muffins caught on fire? How?” “I don’t know I wasn’t in the oven when it happened Eddie I just came into the kitchen and the oven was leaking smoke and my poor muffins were just…ruined.” “Well…you never really have had good luck with baking things.” “The oven just hates me.” “Want me to kick its ass for you?” “We both know that the oven would win.” “Ouch baby that hurt.” “The truth hurts honey.”

#eddie munson x reader #boyfriend eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson concept #eddie munson request #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

[notoneopinion]

Self Care Tips After a Long Day

Personally, I have been having a lot of these 'long days' recently, and these tips have been saving my sanity. So I thought I'd share them with you! Christmas is coming up, a lot of us are taking on extra or longer shifts at work to be able to afford the presents we need to buy, so hopefully some of this advice will come in handy.

1. Treat yourself!

A pretty simple one, but it really is very important. I sometimes treat myself with a coffee after work, because there is nothing better than a hit of caffeine after a twelve and a half hour shift, let me tell you. If I don't feel like spending money, I'll come home and watch a movie, lay out a few packets of crisps to enjoy whilst I relax. It really is a thing of just unwinding after a particularly long day, making sure your body gets that rest it deserves.

2. Journal

This really is one of the biggest self-care tips you will get. Anyone who knows anything about taking care of your mind knows that writing out your feelings is a great way to sort out your emotions. It can also be very relaxing, which is perfect after a long day. I love making a Scene of it, too - lighting a candle, putting on some music or a nice YouTube video in the background, and just sitting down at my table in cosy pyjamas to write about my day. I personally go with the old brain-dump method, but there's a ton of different ways to journal that you can look into, whether that be fun prompts, lists, or a brain-dump, like me!

3. Sit in silence.

Genuinely, just sit in silence. Come home, get into comfy clothes, and just sit. Stare at a wall. Play with a fidget toy. Put noise-cancelling headphones on and just be present in your own space. I find myself doing this mostly due to my autism; I kind of have no choice in the matter, considering my brain tends to shut down after a long day, and all I can really do is sit in silence. But it's not a bad thing, and I recommend trying to do it for anyone who might be feeling a little overwhelmed. The silence can do wonders.

4. Have a bath/shower.

I'm a shower girlie, personally, but that's only because I don't actually have a bath.

Either way, getting washed and clean and feeling fresh is an ultimate form of self care!!!! It might take a bit of motivation to actually get yourself into the shower (trust me, I know) but once you do it, you'll feel incredible. I'm personally not a big fan of the whole Everything Shower thing - I think I'm just too lazy to get everything scrubbed, shaved and moisturised, and if you're the same, there's nothing wrong with that. Wash your hair. Put some soap on those limbs. Just feel the hot water on your skin, maybe do a bit of skin care afterwards if you're feeling up to it. But getting washed and fresh will make you feel ten times better, and might even wake you up a bit if that's what you need!

5. Meal prep.

I live by this.

Once upon a time, I didn't meal prep, and I would come home at 8:30pm after a twelve hour shift full of heavy lifting and verbal abuse (lol guess what I work as) and I would immediately just order a takeaway. In the moment, this is all good - it's a treat, I deserve it, it tastes nice. But after three days of takeaways, you start feeling a little bit shit about yourself, and you're not being too kind on your wallet, either.

I started using a brief portion of my days off to meal prep for the week - just dinners, stuff I could throw in the fridge/freezer and heat up when I got home. Let me tell you, it was self care. Not only was my health improving dramatically, but my mental health was also given a break because I was no longer feeling bad about the stuff I was putting in my body. Plus, meal prepping at the start of the week (or just whenever you get a chance, really) gives you the opportunity to actually think about what you're making, so chances are you're going to be a bit more conscious about what you're putting into your body. I also enjoy cooking a great deal, so it's not even a chore on my day off - I find it quite relaxing to throw some music on, get my cook book out and just enjoy the task.

#amwriting #girl journal #glow up #healing journey #mental health #mental health awareness #mental health support #mental wellbeing #positivity #recovery #it girl #self care #self care tips #self improvement

[gravitywonagain]

Sympathy for the Devil; part 2

discord got me to finally write a connecting scene, so here! have some more of this nonsense au now based only vaguely on the blacklist! [part 1]

~~

“Alright. What do we know about him?”

Luo Qingyang stands at the back of the small conference room facing the large projector screen on the opposite wall. Her uniform jacket is draped over the back of the chair in front of her, and her fingers curl and uncurl of their own volition, kneading the dark blue fabric into the cushion beneath it. This is not what she expected her morning to look like. 

Her team -- her and Lan Wangji’s team, now -- is gathered at the table in front of her. 

Nie Zonghui has several stacks of photocopied notes spilling out of an open manilla folder, two highlighters, four sizes of sticky notes, and a legal pad in front of him. He has blue ink on his neck where the tip of the pen resting behind his ear rubs whenever he turns his head to the left. Frustration rolls off of him in waves. 

Lan Jingyi is typing rapidly on his CBC-issued laptop which is angled toward Luo Qingyang just enough that she can see he has six different windows open and is in desperate need of at least two external monitors. The overworked fan is almost louder than his heavy-handed, caffeine-fuelled typing. He’s twisting back and forth in the swivel chair, dragging his toes across the carpet, but swivels to a stop at her question. 

Qin Su stands off to Luo Qingyang’s right, placing photos -- mostly grainy or blurred -- in an ever expanding evidence map. At the top, with a dozen or so threads leading away from its pin, is a crisp, clean, photo of a man wearing an approximation of the CBC Academy uniform, smiling brilliantly at the camera. Beneath him, the title card reads: Yiling Laozu, Wei Wuxian. 

“Yiling Laozu?” asks Lan Jingyi, one foot tapping out a vague rhythm against the leg of the conference table. 

Luo Qingyang restrains her eyeroll, only because she can see that at least four of the open windows on his laptop are chasing down information regarding Yiling Laozu’s associates, rather than the demonic kingpin himself. 

“Yeah,” she says. “Break it down for me.” 

“Well,” says Qin Su, moving from the board to the open folio near her, “he’s a bit of a recluse, so we don’t actually know a lot.”

Her folio is much better organized than Nie Zonghui’s. 

“Start with the basics.”

Qin Su nods, “Right. Yiling Laozu. Wanted for-- basically every kind of spiritual crime known to the CBC. He invented the Ghost Path in his late teens or early twenties, we think. It’s unclear, what with all of the rumor and suspicion and superstition around even saying his name--”

“Yeah, he really looks like a boogeyman…” says Nie Zonghui. He’s stressed. They should never have sent him into the room with Wei Wuxian. 

Lan Jingyi says, “Hot boogeyman. If you ask me--”

Luo Qingyang clears her throat pointedly. “Nobody did. Moving on?”

“Yup!” 

Qin Su points to Lan Jingyi who taps a few keys on his -- very abused -- keyboard and takes over the projector. He throws several pages up on the wall, photos with short but damning rap sheets. 

“Known associates include Gui Jiangjun and Mo Daifu,” she says, indicating the sheets labeled Wen Qionglin and Wen Qing respectively. 

She points to Lan Jingyi again and a very low-light black and white shot comes up center-screen. It shows a man who could potentially be Wei Wuxian entering a building that is definitely Two Fans. The brilliant green of the sign is lost, but it is plenty readable. “He has been seen entering the Headshaker’s club on several occasions, but any actual association remains speculative at best.” 

Nie Zonghui shrugs in the corner of Luo Qingyang’s eye. “He might just have good taste in venues.” 

All three other agents in the room turn to look at him, brows quirked or furrowed or raised to different degrees. 

Nie Zonghui shrugs again, “What? It’s a nice club.”

--

Wei Wuxian rubs at the zip tie dent around the outside of his wrists. He plays it up a little, wincing and groaning just enough to be heard. 

Still, Lan Wangji doesn’t look at him. 

It’s fine. 

He follows the CBC Director and field agents out of the interrogation room and down a long, boring hallway. Lan Qiren and the other cultivator break off through one of the nondescript doors -- room 129-9, Wei Wuxian notes out of habit -- and then it’s just Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian following Lan Wangji. Down a long, boring hallway. 

It feels like old times. Especially as Wei Wuxian finds his eyes… wandering. 

The Bureau slacks look unfairly good on Lan Wangji, blue wool hugging tight to the curves of his legs and ass in a way no law enforcement uniform should ever be allowed to do. It’s rude. He must get them tailored. 

Lan Wangji leads him through another nondescript door -- room 157-3 -- which opens up into a large bullpen. Heads swivel in their direction, eyes snagging on Wei Wuxian and his casual state of dress. Everybody else in here is wearing uniforms in one state of undress or another, while Wei Wuxian is wearing ripped black jeans and a heather red v-neck. Hopefully he’ll get his jacket back soon. He spent a good amount of time stitching talismans into it; he’d like not to have wasted the effort. 

Eyes un-snag; heads swivel back toward screens. Wei Wuxian remembers the strength of Lan Wangji’s glare and he imagines it’s only become more powerful with age and seniority. He can practically feel the shiver up his own spine. 

Or maybe that is a shiver up his spine. 

It’s strangely nostalgic, being here, even though Wei Wuxian is fairly certain he has never been in this particular room before. But that doesn’t really matter. The layout is the same, the furniture is the same, even the smell is the same. The computers have been updated, at least, but not within this decade. 

Lan Wangji’s office is nice. Clean and minimalist, as expected. Stark white walls, a meticulously curated bookcase, and a matching walnut and glass-top desk. No pictures, no wall art, not even a particularly fancy name plate. The closest thing to a personal touch anywhere in the room is the tea set Lan Wangji’s mother made for him before she died. Wei Wuxian’s fingertips still remember the soft, inexpert curves of the cups. 

The door clicks closed behind him and the silence that settles is almost crushing. 

Tension pulls the lines of Lan Wangji’s shoulder blades toward the middle of his back, which is still turned to Wei Wuxian. His hands slowly curl into fists by his side. 

A familiar ache twists in Wei Wuxian’s gut -- has been twisting in his gut for almost an hour now. The ache for Lan Wangji’s eyes to be on him. The ache for his attention, for his reaction. Anything, really. Since the day he met Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian has always just wanted to break through that barrier Lan Wangji puts around himself, and to really touch him. 

Metaphorically. 

And literally, but that’s something else. 

Probably. 

Now, Lan Wangji’s long braid shifts across the navy fabric of his uniform coat as he turns his head to the side, the shining plait slipping like snake scales through water. Wei Wuxian holds his breath, waiting for the bite. He watches the tension held in Lan Wangji’s jaw forcibly release, and then, finally:

“Wei Ying.”

#wei wuxian #lan wangji #luo qingyang #lan jingyi #nie zonghui #qin su #mdzs #the untamed #cql #fanfiction #the blacklist au #i still probably won't finish this #but it's very fun to play with #it is entirely crack #so have fun with it! #my writing #also for anyone who really likes the actual show this was inspired by #sorry #we're deviating pretty heavily away from that concept and rolling with something that's more loosely inspired

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

the echo (or the answer) - a werewolf au (Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC)

Summary: Ronnie needs to make a decision - does she reject Jake as her mate? Or will she accept him despite the consequences?

Pairing: Alpha!Jake Seresin x Human!OC (Ronnie Bradshaw)

Word Count: 9396

Warnings: knife mention, slight love triangle, blood/violence mention, scar description, scent marking, not smut but the lead up so 18+ minors DNI

THREE | FOUR | FIVE

-> likes are great but comments/reblogs are even better!

-> thank you to my werewolf love @blue-aconite for reading this over for me and letting me run ideas by you, you're the best

Ronnie’s sleep that night was unrestful. Her dreams filled with visions of golden wolves, ruby red eyes, and trees rushing past in shades of blue, black, and green. And even when she would wake, staring at her darkened ceiling and praying for some rest, she still saw him. Jake as he hovered over her, held her throat in his hand, as he looked at her like she was the only thing he would ever need but was just out of his reach.

Like a limb lost, and he knew exactly where it was, but he couldn’t get to it. 

When she finally couldn’t take it anymore and pulled herself out of bed, it was early. The sun’s edge barely scraped the horizon, grey clouds lined in gold and pink, a low fog clinging to the streets of Marnmouth, the only sound the trill of mourning doves and distant engines as the loggers went off to work.

Dressed in only a sweatshirt and some sleep shorts, Ronnie went downstairs to start up the coffee pot. Caffeine was going to be the only thing getting her through the day without passing out. Exhaustion pulled at the backs of her eyes, dragged her steps till they were sluggish, and forced a yawn past her lips as she entered the kitchen. It was the kind of tired that ached. That nearly made her want to cry.

That also made her blissfully unaware of the bespeckled wolf stretched out on the living room sofa. He was laid back on the cushions, one arm tucked behind his head and one booted foot flat on the hardwood floor. His chest rose and fell evenly, obviously asleep. Baseball cap low over his eyes. But when Ronnie finally registered that he was even there — she yelped. 

Bob sat up straight as a pin at the sudden noise, hat falling to the floor and eyes flashing gold before they landed on Ronnie. Standing in the corner of the room with her hand pressed against her chest, now far more awake than she was a second ago.

“Bob!” she all but yelled as she tried to get her rushing heartrate back down. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Brad told me to stay with you,” he grumbled as he took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

Ronnie huffed. Of course he did. But she couldn’t blame Bob for it. Not when he looked so sweet and bleary eyed, sitting on her couch and looking at her with that soft morning smile. It made something in her heart hurt. Like being pulled in twain as punishment for some sin.

“I was gonna start the coffee.” She pointed towards the kitchen with a sigh. “If you want some.” 

Bob rose from the couch, rubbing awkwardly at his jean clad thighs. “Uh, I was actually gonna run down to Main Street for coffee. And maybe one of those breakfast sandwiches you like?”

There was that hurt in her chest again. That tearing. Like someone was squeezing that muscle of life, trying to rip it off her arteries and pull it down into her stomach. Because of course he remembered she liked the breakfast bagels from there. Because of course he would offer to go get them coffee and food. Because of course he would. He was Bob. Kind, sweet, Bob. 

Obvious, correct Bob.

“Lemme put on some clothes and I’ll go with you,” Ronnie suggested and he nodded in agreement with a small smile. 

Once changed into something more appropriate and hair brushed out, Ronnie found Bob waiting for her at the door. He smiled at her again when she came down the stairs. His hat was back on his head, brown curls peeking out the back. He held open the door as she went out onto the porch. The air was crisp and clean — that Washington chill that always seemed to stick around no matter the season pinking their cheeks. The sky was overcast, light grey clouds blotting out the sun as it rose higher in the sky. A few clouds to the west looked darker than the rest though, a storm rolling in off the sea. Bob walked close, his arm brushing against her own as they started making their way towards Main Street Coffee just three blocks away. 

“I — I’m sorry that Brad reprimanded you yesterday,” Ronnie said, “It wasn’t your fault. I just…I don’t know why I did it.” 

“S’okay. I know you’ve felt crowded lately. You like to do stuff on your own — I get it.” He shrugged.

Her chin dropped against her chest, eyes focused on her boots as she sighed, “No, it’s not okay. I should have known Brad would freak out. I was being selfish.”

She had to force herself to remember that they were talking about her going on a morning walk rather than the truth. Her staying out all night. Meeting up with Jake. Running with Red Sky. She bit down hard on her lip to keep herself from revealing everything as the guilt gnawed at her insides. As the weight of what she told Jake just before he left yanked on her spine.

“Meet me at the beach tomorrow — I’ll have my decision then.”

It was tomorrow. She didn’t have a decision. But she had to admit to herself that that wasn’t entirely true. She knew what she wanted. But that was different than making a choice that would alter the entire course of her life. Did she reject him as her mate — do the easy, responsible, maybe even correct thing? Or did she accept him — go against everything that everything was telling her? But there were more reasons to fear accepting him now, she knew that. Understood it like a chilled knife pressed to her spine. If she accepted Jake, she would have to tell Bradley. And if she did that, he might go after Red Sky after being so wholly disrespected and challenged.

How could she be so selfish to accept her heart’s desire at the risk of hurting everyone else?

“Ronnie.” In a stroke of boldness that was rare for Bob, he took hold of her hand. Part of her wanted to pull away. “You weren’t being selfish. You’re the least selfish person I know.” 

This brought tears to her eyes that she would never be able to explain to him. Right. She wasn’t selfish. And part of being selfless was giving up the things you want for the betterment of others. But the thought wrought something inside her, like a swelling ocean, it’s tides too strong to fight. She looked at Bob for a moment, that soft smile on his lips and his hand squeezing her own gently. Then she looked away, back to the concrete as she blinked her tears away. It was easy. Responsible. Correct. She could make this choice. She had to. Even though it hurt. Even though what should feel right felt so, so wrong. 

“Thanks, Bobby.” 

Bob didn’t let go of her hand the rest of the way to the cafe, and Ronnie didn’t pull away from him either. Trying to fight the forbidden, wrong feeling that his touch rose in her now. 

Bob would be so good to her. He was so good to her. He knew her and she knew him. They understood one another and there was comfort in that. And maybe part of her did like him in that way — or could, eventually. And everyone seemed to like the idea. Ronnie saw the way that Natasha nudged Bob with her elbow as they left the pack house the day before. She understood why Bradley asked him to be with her again today. It would be nice to make everyone happy. To get that one step closer to maybe feeling like a member of the pack.

But Jake.

Jake could be good to her. He was good to her. He knew her and she knew him in a way that neither of them could explain. She didn’t know how he took his coffee or where he liked to get his breakfast sandwiches from but it didn’t matter. They understood one another and there was comfort in that — sanctuary even. And she was already at the line, ready to step over into what could very well be love if she gave it a chance. With Jake there would be no approval. No gentle, teasing nudges or brothers urging them to spend time together. There would only be betrayal in her family’s eyes. But she couldn’t deny that she never felt so whole as when she was with Jake, with Red Sky, even. There was no need to try to belong, no need to inch her way into the inner circle. She was already there. 

But she couldn’t bring down more destruction on a pack that was already aching. She just couldn’t.

Bob squeezed her hand one last time before he let go to open the door to the cafe for her. Ronnie didn’t even realize they had made it there until he was nodding at her to go inside first. She smiled at him, if there was a certain sort of sadness in it he didn’t mention it — her mind made up, before she walked through the door.

Ronnie knew what to expect now, and she was ready. There was no need for the revolver she kept stashed under her bed. The only weapon she carried was a silver pocket knife, a family heirloom she had retrieved from a chest in the attic, that she had every intention of only using on herself. 

The beach was abandoned, as usual. Salt water and a chilled breeze off the ocean whipping at her face. The sky was dark, ready to burst with fresh rain. She could hear the beginning rumbles of a storm off in the distance over the crashing of wave against rock. 

She fiddled with the wooden handle of the knife in her jacket pocket as she walked over towards the rock outcrop that stretched into the water. Her mind was made up. Everything that happened that morning with Bob put a brand on it, set it in stone. The coffee, the accepting silence, the way it was so easy to picture the rest of her mornings just like that. With him. Though it didn’t feel as comfortable as it once did, Ronnie knew that would change the next time she saw him. 

It had to. 

Pulling the knife out of her pocket, she tapped it lightly against her palm. Drawing blood with a silver blade. It was the only way for Ronnie to reject the mating between herself and Jake. The bond between them would be cut just as her flesh. His urge to be with her gone. The pull from deep within herself no longer a problem. She would be free to continue to live her life in relative peace. Without going against her family, her history, and everything else. It was safer this way. Easier. Jake could find someone else. Someone more equipped to be his Luna. His counterpart in leading his pack. They could go their separate ways and never think about each other ever again. 

But she still felt Jake deserved to know. To know that she wasn’t choosing him — that she couldn’t choose him. To know that maybe she would think about him every day for the rest of her life.

She felt him before she saw him. A calm washing over her that she would dearly miss, his scent filling her lungs like a ray of light through dark, stormy clouds. Ronnie turned, and there he was. Coming down the beach with his hands in his jacket pockets. Her heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to stop all together or hammer against her ribcage. A smile tugged at her lips that she didn’t intend to form — a reflexive sort of joy.

Jake looked happy to see her too. Relieved. He looked like he was holding himself back from running to her. His feet picking up speed in the sand the closer he got. He took his hands from his pockets, ready to pull her into him and keep her there.

But then he noticed the knife still clutched in her fingers and he stopped just before he reached her. It was like she had stabbed him with that blade. 

“Please.” The word slipped from Ronnie’s lips before she even knew what she was begging for. “Don’t make this harder.” 

Jake’s lip curled as he growled, eyes dark. “Is it that wolf you were with yesterday?”

“No! No. He’s not — He’s not the main reason.” Ronnie couldn’t look at him, her brown eyes downcast as she pushed at the sand with her booted foot.

“What is it then?” he asked, taking a step closer to her, she resisted everything in her to meet him halfway. “And don’t give me that bullshit about everyone and everything.” 

She looked up at him then. If her eyes could have flashed in some form of power, they would have. Her lips were pulled down in a frown, her lashes stuck together with frustrated tears. Her fingers white knuckled around the knife she wavered on the edge of using now. Dark, nearly raven black hair whipped into her face and she didn’t even care to push it aside. All she could see was Jake and the anger and hurt he betrayed to her — slipped to her like information that would end a war. 

“It is everyone! It is everything!” Ronnie finally shouted, tears falling down her cheeks as she raised her hands to gesture wildly at the universe around them. “My brother is the Alpha of Blue River, a pack that has hated yours for literally hundreds of years! I’m a Bradshaw — Blue River is my family, my heritage, it’s who I am. Just because we’re mated doesn’t change any of that. It doesn’t change the fact that this can’t happen. It just can’t.” 

Jake stared at her, long and hard for a moment, before he muttered, “What happened to taking it one day at a time?”

“The days ran out.” She shook her head, unable to look at him anymore. “There’s too much at stake. If Brad found out about this he would go after your pack and I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” he asked, taking another step closer. 

Ronnie flipped open the knife and held it to her wrist, a warning. He instantly stilled, hands raised like he was approaching a spooked animal. She shifted on her feet as her lip quivered. 

“I refuse to be the cause of more Red Sky pain,” she whispered, “Trust me, it’s easier this way. We both get to go back to our lives like nothing ever happened.” 

“Ronnie.” The way he said her name made her knees buckle, made her resolve crumble that much further. “I can’t pretend like I never met you. I can’t go back to my life before you.” 

“Why not?” The question barely escaped her, afraid to know the answer. 

“Because I love you.” 

It was a revelation that knocked the wind out of her. Pulled a sob from her mouth as she tilted her head towards the sky. Like it was some prayer whose confessions she didn’t know. This should be a happy moment. Something filled with joy and light and an orchestral swell. But it was none of those things. It was hot tears of frustration, thunder cracking as the first drops of a storm fell, and a knife just about to break skin. Jake came toe to toe with her and this time she had no threats, no words to make him keep his distance. 

“I love you,” he repeated it as the rain soaked through his hair, as it threatened to drown out his voice. “I want you — forever. And it’s not just the urge, not the bond, I love you because you’re Ronnie Bradshaw. I don’t care about all the reasons why not. I don’t care that your brother’s the Alpha of Blue River. I don’t care that our packs have hated each other for years. I care about you. Your safety, your happiness, your everything. 

“But if being with me isn’t what you want — then I’m willing to let you go. Because all I care about is you.”

Ronnie swallowed the emotion that threatened to drown her with the rain. She readjusted her grip on the knife, looking down at the antique blade like she was finally realizing it was a deadly weapon. 

“I-I should do this…” 

“But what do you want, Ronnie?” Jake pushed. 

“I — “ 

She couldn’t get it out, even now. Even knowing exactly what it was she wanted but she knew she couldn’t have. Standing on the beach in the rain, she couldn’t say it. It was overwhelming. It was everything and nothing and too much and never enough. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. She wanted to drown in the sea of him forever and swim to some shore that would harbor her. She was sinking. Deeper and deeper into something unknown that clawed at her heart and wrapped itself around her throat. Trapping her in this moment with her mouth hanging open and her lungs unwilling to draw breath. 

But Jake. 

With green eyes so soft, so full of love they wrote books about, was her shore, her anchor, her solid rock that wouldn’t waver. He was a sea it was a joy to drown in.

He took hold of her wrist, attached to the knife that no longer posed a threat, and pulled her hand away from her flesh. She went easily, like clay before the kiln. His thumb pressed into her tendons and her fingers released the blade, dropping it into the wet sand. Ronnie gasped for air once it was out of her hands. Like it was the very thing that squeezed her lungs, made it hard to breathe. Jake brought her to the surface, brought her out of hiding, forced her to confront all that she was and all that she could be. With him. Together. 

It was like she couldn’t say it fast enough. 

“I want you,” she said, “I’ve always wanted you.”

Jake growled something low in his throat, a sound of release and desire, before he dove into her. No more pretense, no more waiting, no more uncertainty. Not when all that needed to be said had been and there was nothing left to do but this one final act of devotion.

The way he captured her lips was intense and desperate, nearly knocking her backwards with the force of it. But it was a kiss so easy to melt into. Because it felt right, because it felt like coming home, because it was everything she had been hoping and longing for all of her life. It was coming up for air after the crushing weight of the ocean depths, it was ice on burning flesh, it was release after years and years of pressure. He cupped her face in his massive hands and drew her into him, pressing every inch of him to every inch of her as his lips moved strongly against her own.

There was something between a cry and a breath of relief caught in Ronnie’s chest as she did everything in her power to kiss him back. To try and tell him everything that she felt without words. Her hands slid up his chest, fingers fisting the soaked fabric of his shirt. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip and she whined, soft and broken. 

She had nearly forgotten it was raining, a crack of lightening a distant reminder and a warning that neither of them heeded.

Their chests heaved in tandom when they broke apart, lungs desperate for air and burning. He tugged her into him like he was trying to pull her inside himself. Tuck her away in his ribcage so they could never be parted again. And she wanted him to. She wanted to live in his bones, breathe his same air, be awash in his blood. There was no use in fighting it anymore. She was too tired to fight it anymore. She wanted him. All of him. No matter what happened. All there was left to do was fall — be all consumed by him. 

“Please don’t leave me again,” he whispered, begged, his face pulled in some broken way that made her heart shatter and come together all at once.

“Not if I can help it,” she replied. 

It wasn’t the promise he was looking for. But it was the best she could give. She would have to go home when their time together came to an end. She would have to confront Bradley about what's really been going on. But she didn’t want to think about that right then. Right then was Jake, his hand as it wrapped around the nape of her neck, his thumb as it caressed her cheek, the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at her. The steady, reassuring beat of his heart against her hand. 

She kissed him again, soft and sweet. A momentary peck filled with gentle smiles and relief soaked chuckles. 

“Come on.” He nodded his head back towards the stairs that led up to the road. “Let’s get you out of the rain.” 

He took her hand, fingers threaded between her own, before he started jogging towards the stairs. But then Ronnie remembered the knife and she broke away from him. She found it half buried in the wet sand, an accomplished smile adorning her face as she lifted it up and showed it to Jake. Who just looked at her like she was insane.

“It’s a family heirloom!” she explained over the sound of the rolling thunder. “I can’t just leave it!” 

Jake shook his head with a smile. “Yes, you really can!” 

They laughed as she closed the blade and put it in her pocket. She took back his offered hand, feet sinking in the sand as they trudged their way over to the stairs. The carved stone the stairs were made from was slippery from the rain, and with wet, sand covered shoes, it was easy to fall. But Jake held her up, supported her the entire way to his truck parked on the side of the road. 

Inside the truck, it was peaceful. The rain pattered against the metal of the vehicle as Jake started the engine. But it was that kind of peace that simmered with electricty, anticipation. It was over now, the waiting, the longing, the wondering. What did they do now that the choice was made?

“I don’t wanna go home,” Ronnie confessed as she leaned back against the seat, head turned to look at Jake as he pushed his wet hair out of his face.

How could somebody be that damn pretty?

“Then don’t,” he replied, an easy smile pulling at the corners of his mouth that she liked on him.

“Where you gonna take me, then?”

“Uh, Tradewind’s Hostel — where the pack’s staying?” he suggested, uncertainty lacing his tone. 

She had met his pack once before. But this was different now. They were in human form, it was daytime, she was coming to them as Jake’s Luna rather than just some girl. This meeting held weight as hard as stone. The pack couldn’t reject her, but they didn’t necessarily have to like her either. This first meeting determined everything. But Jake looked ready, excited, hopeful as he pulled out onto the road. Ronnie reached out and took his hand, pulling it into her lap with a squeeze. She smiled softly. 

“I’d like that.” 

The drive into town was quiet. But that didn’t matter. Ronnie becoming more and more aware of how wet and heavy her clothes felt. And also more aware of Jake’s hand on her thigh, fingers spread wide to touch as much of her as possible. He kept it there the entire time, fingers digging into the forgiving flesh every once and awhile — almost a reminder to himself. Ronnie understood that, that need to ground himself in this moment. She needed it just as much as him. Without it, this felt like a dream.

The rain blurring the windshield, the sound of it on the roof of the truck, everything that happened that brought them to this moment. It couldn’t be real. None of it could be real. But it was. She was there, with Jake, her hand wrapped around his wrist just to feel his pulse against her fingertips. A dreamy sort of sigh slipped past her lips as she watched him drive. He was trying to concentrate, but he kept glancing over at her, fighting a smile. His hair was darker when it was wet, matched the brown hair of his scruffy beard. She reached out and traced the line of his jaw almost without realizing, watching as the muscle below his temple jumped. 

“How do you like your coffee?” she asked quietly. 

He answered without question. “Black. Always.” 

“Me too,” she hummed as she looked back towards the windshield. “I do like a latte occasionally though.” 

“What kind?”

“There’s a shop here that has honey lavender lattes that I love.” 

“We’ll have to go sometime.” He squeezed her thigh again. 

“Yeah. We will.”

They pulled into the parking lot of Tradewinds Hostel a while later. The hostel was comparable to a long-stay hotel, mostly for out-of-state workers who were only there for the season or backpackers looking for a bit of adventure. Apparently, the Marnmouth government had been kind enough to offer those from Bellmoral who lost their homes during the fire the hostel as a place to stay while their homes were rebuilt. Those Bellmoral residence included every member of Red Sky Pack. It was one of the rare buildings in Marnmouth that Ronnie had never been inside. She hoped it was less dingy on the inside than it was outside. 

Jake opened her door for her and helped her down from the truck, his hand never leaving her’s as he lead her towards the front door. Anxiety prickled up her spine the closer they got. What if the pack didn’t like her? It was clear from the night before that they were unsure about her at least. Unsure about the threat she posed as a close member of Blue River, as a Bradshaw. But Jake was with her. They would accept her. She was his mate, his Luna, his counterpart in leading the pack. The weight of that wasn’t lost on her. 

He held open the door to the hostel for her and she walked inside first. 

It was just as dingy on the inside as the outside. The paint on the walls was faded, the main room smelled like must and years of cigarette smoke. The kitchen didn’t look any better. Appliances from the seventies jammed between yellow tiled countertops and a sink that dripped at a steady beat.

The entirety of Red Sky sat around the dining room table in front of the kitchen. Seven men, most of them young and strong accept for the older man leaning against the kitchen counter. They were playing cards and sipping on coffees. But they all tensed at the sight of her. Smiles turned into thin straight lines and eyes widened in uncertainty. The older wolf picked himself up from the counter with a deep frown. Then Jake walked into the room behind her and they all seemed to relax. Jake put his hand to the small of her back and urged her forward towards the pack.

“So — “ A dark skinned man got up from the table. “You accepted him, huh?”

Jake put his hands on her hips and drew her back into his chest, standing behind her like some ancient guardian sent to watch over her. His presence, his touch, was a comfort in this crucial moment. A Luna meeting her pack for the first time. 

“Yes, I did,” Ronnie answered, fighting against the waver in her voice. 

The same wolf spoke again. “Your brother gonna attack us again?”

“I don’t think so. He felt threatened, so he let you know your place while you’re still in his territory.” She swallowed thick as she glanced around at the pack, she had never had a group of people pay attention to her so fully. “Keep your heads down and I…I don’t think he will.”

“Would you stop him?” The older wolf asked gruffly, thick arms crossed over broad chest. “If he tried again?”

“Yes.”

She said it without a hint of hesitation, with a certainty that most war generals would envy. It made the majority of the wolves in the pack lift their eyebrows in surprise. A Bradshaw willing to go against Blue River? It didn’t seem possible. But there Ronnie was, a Bradshaw, standing before them no longer as a member of Blue River — but as the Luna of Red Sky Pack. 

Jake kissed the side of her neck, his smirk felt against her skin, and she leaned back into him. Eyes trained on the wolves who continued to study her. A new found confidence coursing through her veins as a grin of her own ticked up her mouth. 

One wolf, a tall black man with a mustache stood up abruptely. His chair scraping against the wood floors. 

“God, both of you are dripping all over the place,” he said, making Ronnie glance down at her feet where a decently sized puddle was forming. “Lemme grab you guys some dry clothes.” 

He disappeared down the hall after that. The wolf who spoke to her first nodded over to the living room and Jake let go of her hips with a sigh. Ronnie could only assume that was Jake’s second in command wanting to speak with him privately. She watched him go for a moment, some of that confidence she felt just a moment ago going with him.

Another wolf stood up from the table. A shorter man with dark, curly hair. He came up to Ronnie with a smile, ushering her closer to the rest of them. 

“That was my mate Reuben.” He pointed towards the hallway. “He’s kinda the mother hen around here. I’m Mickey.” 

He held out his hand and Ronnie shook it lightly, her smile light but unsure. 

“You guys are mated?” she questioned as she stepped closer to the table where the rest of the pack gathered. 

“Yep. Goin’ on three years.” 

“Wow,” she chuckled, fighting the urge to pull out her phone and take notes. “Mated Betas are…Kinda rare.” 

“They are?” he questioned with a tilt of his head. 

“Yeah. Mating usually takes place between an Alpha and a Beta or an Alpha and a human…” She glanced over at Jake standing in the living room. “In some cases. When were you — When did you know you were mated?”

Mickey shrugged. “Almost as soon as I was turned. Reuben was a part of the pack before me, so.” 

She was about to ask how he was turned, but then she spotted it. The massive, ridged scar that covered the majority of his neck. He caught her looking at it and he tugged at the collar of his hoodie. She knew what a scar like that had to be from. The marks of the events of a wolf’s turning never fully go away. They stay with them as a reminder of the blessing and the curse. But Mickey’s scar…Those were evidence of an attack. An Alpha that tried to rip his throat out and left him just alive enough to turn. The thought of it made Ronnie’s stomach drop, made bile rise in her throat.

Bellmoral attacked people in order to get more Betas. Something Blue River hadn’t done in hundreds of years. She glanced around at Red Sky, all of them with their heads down now in some way to hide from her. They were all young. Bellmoral chose them for a reason and gave them no choice. It made her stomach turn again to think that Jake most likely had scars like that too. Some evidence of a night of pure terror, of dangling so close to death, of not knowing what was happening or why.  

“You sure know a lot about werewolves, kid,” the oldest wolf in the room said, his voice deep and gruff. 

He was leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over one another again. And he was tall, probably the tallest man that Ronnie had ever seen. His hair was grey, wrinkles creating mountains on his forehead and dips around his mouth — half of his face was shrouded in white scar tissue. Not from the events of his turning. No. That was a wound given by his Alpha that could never fully heal. A warning and a reminder not to disobey. From all that she had gathered about Bellmoral, that fit his MO perfectly.

“Had to try to fit in with my family somehow,” she tried to joke, but it came out sadder than she intended. 

Just then, Reuben came back into the room holding a small bundle of clothes. He grinned gently as he handed her the stack. 

“I’m Reuben, by the way,” he said.

She chuckled. “I know — your mate told me.” 

“Ugh, Mickey,” he groaned as he narrowed his mate with a look. 

“What? You ran out of the room how I was supposed to not?” Mickey argued with a fond sort of smile. 

The pair continued to argue playfully, no real bite behind any of their words. Ronnie looked up at the older wolf with a smile. 

“Are they always like this?” she asked him. 

“Yes.” He picked himself up off the counter. “It’s annoying as fuck.” 

She snorted out a laugh that she tried to cover with a cough. “You got a name?”

He stared at her for a moment, some kind of debate rolling around his slate blue eyes, then he finally muttered, “S’Frank. The bathroom’s that way — first door on the left.”

He pointed down the hall before he turned and walked into the living room. She smiled after him for a moment. He was a wolf who had seen a lot, that much was clear. But underneath that tough exterior was a soft spot that she was now determined to find. No matter how long it took. 

Suddenly remembering the state of her clothes, Ronnie went down the hallway and into the bathroom Frank pointed out. It was small. With a bathtub coated in rings that couldn’t be scrubbed away and a sink with rusted knobs. Even the mirror had a small crack in the upper right hand corner. Jesus. This place needed an upgrade desperately. 

She set the stack of dry clothes down on the sink, taking inventory of what she was given. A pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt that was much too big for her, and a pair of socks. She knew instantly whose they were, the smell of citrus and bonfires clinging to the fabric like he was still wearing them. They were Jake’s clothes. The idea of it made her grin as she began to peel off her wet things. She had to roll up the legs of the sweatpants a few times in order to get them to fit properly, and the t-shirt she left as it was. Swallowing her whole and surrounding her in Jake’s comforting scent. For a moment, she just stood in the bathroom with her nose shoved under the collar, breathing it in.

Eventually, she stepped back out of the bathroom, wet clothes balled up in her hands — unsure what she was supposed to do with them. Down the hall, Jake was just stepping out of another room. Wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a white t-shirt that he plucked at to make sit right on his broad shoulders. A look passed over his face when he saw her standing there in his clothes. Something between hunger and yearning that made Ronnie’s toes curl. 

“I’ll go put these in the dryer,” he said as he took her wet clothes out of her hands, then he nodded his head back down the hall. “My room’s that way — wait for me there.”

She nodded her head, fighting the urge to kiss him again before she walked across the wooden floors to the door he just came out of. 

His room was small, and it surprised her. It really was more like an overglorified closet. A twin bed shoved in the corner, a nightstand barely able to fit beside it. A skinny table was pushed beneath the small window opposite the door. She was sure there were bigger rooms in the hostel than this. This felt like the room that was always left empty, that was always left as the short straw that someone was unfortunate enough to draw. But he was the Alpha. Surely the pack insisted he have the best room. Then it hit her like the kickback on a shotgun — throwing her entire body off balance. Jake chose this room. Let his pack be more comfortable while he resigned himself to this tiny space.

When he came into the room, shutting the door behind him quietly, she turned to him with a smile — tears lining her vision as she took him in. His hair was lightening by the second as it dried. Green eyes intense but gentle as he took the few steps to get to her.

He cupped her face in his large hand and swiped his thumb across her cheek, catching the first tear that fell. “What’s wrong, little one?”

“You’re a good Alpha,” she whispered, fingers latching onto his wrist.

Jake’s face crumbled, eyebrows buckling under some massive weight and eyes bunching like she just told him some lie that he knew wasn’t true. He pulled her in closer, setting his forehead against her own with a shake of his head. 

“No, I’m not,” he muttered quietly — she almost didn’t hear him. 

Her brow furrowed as her hands snuck onto his shoulders. “What’re you talking about?”

“I — I’ve been Alpha for six months and…Things have only gotten worse, somehow,” he said, eyes focused on the path of his fingers down the side of her neck. “We have no homes, we’re in another pack’s territory. I just…I feel like I’m letting everyone down.” 

Ronnie didn’t know what to say at first. Didn’t know what words would bring him comfort, would make him feel more confident in himself. She barely knew him. But maybe she knew enough. 

“I know I’ve only been here for all of two minutes,” she replied slowly, making him chuckle against her cheek. “But I don’t think you’re letting this pack down. Your circumstances are shit, yeah, but…You’re leading this pack honorably.” 

He scoffed, self-depricating and bitter. “I haven’t even been able to turn a new Beta.” 

“That takes time. If you do it right,” she said, but then she hesitated around her next works, picking them carefully. “I…I saw the scar on Mickey’s neck.”

Jake went stiff under her touch, his eyes slamming shut against some invisible pain. Her hands ghosted over his shoulders, up his neck to hold his face in her hands. Gently cradling his jaw in her palms as he leaned into her touch. 

“Show me,” she pleaded in a soft whisper. 

His green gaze caught her own for a moment, pain and uncertainty swirling inside like an endless tide. Ronnie nodded at him reassuringly and he sighed. Breaking away from her, he turned and grabbed the back of his t-shirt before pulling it over his head. 

She couldn’t help the gasp that she released. 

The length of his spine was covered in massive, white, raised scars. Claw marks and teeth, gnashing and tearing — like someone tried to rip out his spine. She couldn’t even imagine the horror that caused such markings, the carnage, the pain. Jake shifted on his feet, strong muscles rippling as he rolled his shoulders.

He started to explain before she even had to ask:

“Bellmoral popped one of my tires on my way home from the yard. Got out to look and there was something in the trees. He chased me into the woods — attacked me. All I can remember is teeth and blood everywhere and pain. And I was so fucking terrified. Woke up two days later in a cave in the woods. Javy carried me there, took care of me. I — I thought I was dead.”

“Jake…” she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks. 

“I don’t wanna end up like him,” he confessed. 

Ronnie shook her head as she stepped closer to her. The muscles in his back jumped as she ran her fingers gently over a few of the scars. The flesh ridged like his own personal mountain range.

“You won’t.”

No hesitation. That certainty like solid steele in her tone forcing him to look over his shoulder at her. She didn’t break eye contact as she pressed her lips to the scars at the base of his neck.

He shuddered, shoulders going lax as she peppered kisses all along those reminders of his blessing and his curse. Of the pain that Bellmoral caused him. She wrapped her arms around his middle, pulled him in close as she dragged her lips across his shoulder blades. His hands found purchase on her forearms as he sighed beneath her affections.

Then she whispered, lips brushing against the back of his neck, “You’re a good Alpha, Jake Seresin.” 

He was on her in the next instant. Spun around in her arms with one hand wrapped around her throat, palms so wide she could feel his fingers near her nape. He kissed her hungrily. Her lips easily parted to let him in, his tongue sinking into her mouth with a sigh. Ronnie grabbed at his hips, latched onto something to keep her grounded to this plane of existence.

Turning them, Jake dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling Ronnie down to straddle his lap. Their lips parted as he dragged his kiss to the edge of her mouth, her chin, down the line of her jaw to suckle at a spot below her ear she didn’t even know was sensitive. She gasped, back arching into his chest as her hands held the back of his head. 

“My Alpha,” she whispered breathlessly, mindlessly.

Jake growled into her pulse point, into her blood stream. A sound that hollowed her out and left nothing but the aching feeling between her legs. All of this felt burning hot, heightened, every touch and kiss felt a million times over. An Alpha and his Luna coming together at last. He took hold of her hips and dragged her down onto his clothed crotch, letting her feel how much he needed her too. Ronnie threw her head back as she continued to move against him, desperate for that bit of friction. 

“Little one,” Jake mouthed into her flesh as his hands slid up her back beneath his own t-shirt. “Fuck.”

With a desperate whine she searched out his lips again. Feverish kisses between panted breath as she rolled her hips in just the right way against his growing erection. She held his face in her hands, chest flush against his own. One large hand snuck around her ribs to palm at her breast and she broke away from him to moan at the feeling. 

His teeth scraped the side of her neck. His scent bloomed, overpowered her. For a moment, she just drank it in, let it calm her and lull her as Jake continued to suck and kiss at her throat. 

But then she froze. Hands flat on his shoulders as she stared wide eyed at the terrible painting hanging above his bed. There was only one reason his scent would become so powerful so suddenly. The thought of it made her stomach drop as his hands squeezed her thighs.

“Did you just scent mark me?” she asked quietly, hoping and praying it wasn’t true. 

Jake went stiff for a moment, then his head dropped into her collar bone. “Shit. Fuck. I didn’t mean to.”

It all barralled into her at once. She had been gone for hours. She accepted Jake as her mate. She was now scent marked by him — his scent overpowering her own and unable to be covered up, even by deer shit. She couldn’t avoid going home forever. Eventually, she would go back. 

She was so screwed.

There was a noise coming from the kitchen when she walked through the front door. She knew it wasn’t Bradley. He was still at work. But a fear, primal and overpowering, clawed at her chest as she tried to just sneak up the stairs. Tried to avoid everything for a few more minutes. Tried to gather some words to explain herself. 

But she only made it halfway up the stairs before Bob was coming out of the kitchen. 

“Uh, your walk was a lot longer than I thought it would be. You okay?” he asked as she watched him, like a deer caught in headlights, come down the hallway towards the entryway. 

He froze about halfway there. His brow furrowing low over his eyes as he looked up at her under the bill of his hat. He didn’t look angry — more than anything he just looked confused, frightened even. 

“Why do you smell like that Red Sky Alpha?” he asked quietly. He took long, quick strides to get to the bottom of the stairs, his eyes flashing gold as his fists clenched. “Did he try to do something?”

“No!” Ronnie immediately protested, “No — that’s not what happened.” 

“Are you hurt? Did he say anything?” Bob insisted as he started up the steps, eyes already searching her for any cuts or bruises. 

“I’m fine,” she said, frustrated tears already building in her eyes. 

“God, this is all my fault. I should have gone with you. Brad is gonna be so pissed — “ 

She cut him off with a shout that exploded from her chest, that was ripped from her like a rotten tooth, “We’re mated, Bobby!”

He blinked, surprised. “What?”

“We’re mated — the Red Sky Alpha and me, we’re mated,” she repeated, voice still raised because she could barely hear herself over the ringing in her ears. 

It was out in the open. Someone else knew. It was relief and terror all at once. 

Bob continued to blink stupidly at her. Mouth dropped open as the gears behind his eyes worked overtime to process what she just told him. And when she couldn’t take it anymore, she dropped down to sit on the stairs. Head in her hands as a sob shook her shoulders. Once it started it was impossible to stop, hot tears streaming down her face and noises of some sort of release and horror coming out of her. 

“Well…Shit,” Bob finally muttered as he slid onto the step to sit beside her. “How long’ve you known?”

“Since the moment he walked into the tavern three weeks ago,” she answered. 

“And you…You accepted him?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.” 

“Oh.” 

Ronnie barely lifted her head as she sniffed. “M’Sorry, Bobby. I didn’t mean to…I never wanted to lead you on or — or hurt you.”

“No, no, s’okay.” He shook his head, rubbed at his jean clad thighs. Then he smiled a little bit. “Actually, I’m kinda relieved?”

“Really?” she asked, wiping at her wet face. 

“Yeah. You’re a good friend, Ronnie, I like you — but just, not like that. I was starting to think that maybe I could. And Brad was pushing and I thought that I should and I don’t know…”

“Oh, Bobby.” She leaned into his shoulder as they both chuckled quietly. 

This was what it was like to be with Bob. Comfortable. Easy.  An understanding between them that didn’t need to be made mention of with words. A secret for them to share. Acceptance, because he stood there at the fringes too. There was more relief than terror inside her now. Someone knew. Someone in Blue River knew — and he was taking it in stride. Maybe there was some hope that all of this would go over well. But she just had a feeling that it wasn’t. 

After a beat, Bob asked her quietly, “What’re you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, picking herself up off his shoulder. “I am terrified to tell Brad. He already feels threatened with Red Sky here, and I think this’ll only make it worse.” 

“You’ll have to tell him sooner rather than later,” he said. 

“I know. But I don’t want him to know just yet. I want to come at this with a plan. Red Sky’s been through enough,” she sighed, pushing her hair back from her face. 

Bob cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

So she told him everything. Sitting halfway up the steps, whispering like if she said it any louder it would make it all the more terrible. She told him about Bellmoral killing his Betas, attacking people to get new ones, Jake challenging him, killing him to save his pack. Bob didn’t know everything that came with being a werewolf, what was strictly taboo and some of the more complicated traditions, but he knew enough to look like he was going to be sick as Ronnie went on. 

“Then the forest fire burnt down all their homes, where most of them work. They had no other choice but to come here and be in Blue River territory,” she said, leaning against the wood railing. “They came into the tavern that night to try and control their first encounter with you.”

“So the other morning, when we found you in the woods…” Bob spoke slowly, mind churning to process it all. 

Ronnie cringed. “Yeah, I was out all night. With Red Sky.” 

“Did you rub deer shit all over yourself to cover his scent?” 

“Yeah,” she chuckled.

“Quick thinking.” Bob hummed, pushed up his glasses. “Don’t think it’ll work again, though.” 

“No, it won’t.”

Bob sat up straight, eyes narrowed towards the front door. Ronnie’s stomach dropped with dread, she knew what that meant. 

“Brad just pulled into the driveway,” he said. 

Then Bob grabbed her hand and dragged her up the stairs behind him. He pulled her into her room and shut the door behind them. Ronnie paced the length of the room as Bob listened at the door. Hands shoved into her hair and pulling at the root until it hurt. Breaths coming rapid and shallow as she just tried to think about what to do. She reeked of Jake, his scent on her ten times stronger because of the marking. As soon as Brad stepped inside the house he would smell it. Her brown eyes caught on the window and for a second she thought about just climbing out of it and running away. 

But Bob, sweet, kind Bob took hold of her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Can you cover up a scent mark with another one?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve never read anything — “ 

“Do you think it could work though?”

She stared up at him for a moment. It warmed and wounded something deep inside her that he was so willing to help her. But she knew what he was thinking of doing. Marking her himself to cover up Jake’s scent — give her just a bit more time without Bradley knowing the truth. The thought of it alone made a sorrow well up inside her like fresh cement ready to be poured. To be marked by a wolf while she was mated to another, she didn’t even want to think about how that would feel. The guilt, the betrayal, the pain even. 

But if it kept her from being found out by Bradley, just for a few more days so she could figure out how to tell him, she had to do it. 

“Maybe,” she finally replied. 

“Okay, how do you do it?” he asked, the front door opening with a jangling of keys.

Brad’s feet shuffling downstairs forced her heart into her throat, her brain to go fuzzy with panic. “Uh — I don’t know exactly. It has to be done with intent and-and you scrape your teeth on my neck. Do not break skin.”

Bob nodded as she moved her hair over to one shoulder, exposing her still red flesh from where Jake kissed and suckled on her skin. She couldn’t help the whimper that slipped past her lips as Bob lowered his face down to her neck — his hot breath fanning her skin. 

“I’m sorry, Ronnie,” he said sincerely. 

And she believed him. Bob knew enough about mates to understand that this was difficult for her, that it was also dangerous for him. Ronnie wasn’t free to be claimed, to be marked by any other wolf. She belonged to Jake. Wholly and completely. And Ronnie, on some instinctual level, wanted everyone to know who she belonged to. To let them know that she was off limits, that she belonged.

She had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep in her cry as Bob brushed his teeth over the side of her neck. Over the same spot that Jake had marked her earlier. Brad’s voice echoed downstairs, then his pounding steps as he took the stairs two at a time to get to her room. Slowly, Jake’s scent disappeared and was replaced with Bob’s scent. Eucalyptus and wet earth. 

God, she didn’t think that would actually work.

Bob’s lips hovered over her neck, his hand following some instinct as it latched onto her waist. He growled something low in his throat, a noise Ronnie had never heard him make before. A certain type of longing filled his blue eyes now as he drank in the fact that she was covered in his scent. 

“Bobby…” she whispered weakly, tears streaming down her face as she pushed at his chest. 

Her voice seemed to snap him out of it. He shook his head as he pulled himself away from her. He looked down at her like he forgot she was even there, a pink blush filling in his cheeks. 

Then there was a knock at her door, three light raps before it was pushed open and Bradley came inside. Bob turned to face the door with a jump, his skin now flushed a bright shade of red. But he backed up, hid Ronnie’s crying face behind his broad shoulders. 

“Hey, you guys in — woah!” 

Bradley reared back as he walked further into the room, eyes blinking rapidly as he took in the strength of Bob’s scent. Then he grinned, some cheeky, knowing thing, at the sight of them. Ronnie could barely even look at him around Bob’s form, her tears unstoppable as the last of Jake’s scent vanished completely. She wished she was still wearing his clothes. Bob shifted awkwardly on his feet as he coughed into his fist. 

“Uh, we were just…Uh —  “ Bob floundered for some excuse like they really needed one. 

But it was already clear that Bradley approved. “No, no, you’re good. I’ll just be downstairs makin’ dinner. I’ll call when it’s ready.” 

The pair nodded and Bradley left the room with a proud smile on his face. Ronnie choked on the breath she forgot she was holding, something hollow inside her making her want to rip open her ribs. She walked away from Bob, sunk down onto the edge of her bed quietly. 

“Ronnie…” he started, taking a small step towards her. “M’sorry. I don’t know — “

“Please just leave,” she said, voice quivering around unshed tears. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. 

Then he left the room, shut the door silently behind him.  For three weeks she was able to ignore the ache inside her. That ache, that itch, that need for Jake. But now, curled up on her bed and smelling like some other wolf, she felt it completely.

werewolf!topgun taglist: @blue-aconite @darkestbeforethedawn16 @supernaturaldawning @illisius @hope-love-equality2 @wanderingdetectives @sqrlgrl22 @dempy @theforevermorereject @the-untamed-soul @emandems10 @xxshea-barnesxx @piceous21 @sopheeg @ollyoxenfrees @luckyladycreator2 @newlibrary

wanna be tagged? just drop in a comment or message me directly

#oc: ronnie bradshaw #fic: the echo (or the answer) #fd: top gun #werewolf au #werewolf!topgun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun imagine #top gun x oc #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick x oc #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman #alpha!jake #alpha!hangman #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin x oc #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #alpha!jake x human!ronnie #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd #werewolf!bob #oc: frank moral

[beddybugs]

idk when ill come back or ever come back here so if anyone cares enough I use just insta now its also beddybugs on there

I hope everyone stays well, I just can't stand using this app anymore, v unusable for me

#Everything is slow on this app #Maybe when I get a new phone I'll be back but idk #Its been years since I got a new one #Crisp and clean no caffeine

[flavorcrash]

Fletcher Baines

Likes:

Coding

Video Games

Marine Life

Hiking

Baked Goods

Warm Temperatures

Rain

Vocaloid

Whales

Animals

Board/Card Games

Drawing

Foxes

Dislikes:

Coffee/Caffeine

Nuts/Tree Nuts

Bugs/Insects

Crowds

Parties (specifically ones with dancing, drugs, and drinks. He enjoys board game parties though)

Alcohol

Hunting

Wind

Cold Showers

Porridge

Neutral:

Corpses

Blood

Kids

Reading

Snow

Carving

Status: Alive

Conditions?: Asthma, Tree Nut/Nut Allergy

Marriage Status: Single

Birthday: 05/13/02 (May 13th, 2002)

Zodiac Sign: Taurus

Sibling(s)?: none

Lives in (beginning of CMR): His apartment

Any Pets?: No

Lillith Harris

Likes:

Caffeine

Horror Movies

Macarons

Chinchillas

Belts

Fishnet

Heavy Metal

Gossip

Cold Showers

Snow

Rats

Reading

Pillow Forts

Dislikes:

Meat

Crocheting/Knitting/Sewing

Hot Temperatures

Rain

Flying in Airplanes

Messes (she tends to be very precise when she cleans)

Fishing

Hiking

Exercise of any kind (she does it anyway to maintain health)

Canoeing

Gardening

Blood (simply because of stains and it gets everywhere)

Neutral:

Corpses

Blood (in the sense where it doesn't make her squeamish)

Bright Colors

Kids

Beaches

Religion

Status: Alive

Marriage Status: Single

Birthday: 03/04/99 (March 4th, 1999)

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Siblings?: 1 sister (irrelevant to plot though)

Lives in: her house that lays on the outskirts of town

Any Pets?: She has a small rat named Theodore

Samuel "Sam" Forsythe

Likes:

Gardening

Massages (mostly giving them)

Housework

Handiwork

Alcohol

Meat

Hiking

Exploration

Dislikes:

Kids

Seafood

Jewelry

Animals

Gossip

Folklore

Caffeine

Sugar

Chips (CRISPS IF YOU WILL)

Neutral:

Marine Life

Crocheting/Knitting/Sewing

Carving

Trains

Status: Alive

Marriage Status: Single

Birthday: 10/19/95 (October 19th, 1995)

Zodiac Sign: Libra

Siblings?: none that he knows of

Lives in: his apartment (in the same apartment complex as Fletcher)

Any Pets?: Can't stand em.

#CMH #Cross My Heart #CMH Fletcher #CMH Sam #CMH Lillith

[baherwholesale]

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CELSIUS Assorted Flavors Variety Functional Essential Energy Drinks

Elevate your energy levels and indulge your taste buds with the CELSIUS Assorted Flavors Variety Functional Essential Energy Drinks. Specially crafted to invigorate your body and mind, this dynamic assortment of 12 FL oz. beverages brings a burst of refreshment and vitality to every sip.

With a commitment to delivering functional and essential energy, CELSIUS stands at the forefront of the energy drink market. Each can is a carefully concocted blend of natural ingredients, scientifically proven to accelerate metabolism and provide a sustained boost in energy without the crash associated with traditional energy drinks. The assortment of flavors ensures that there’s a tantalizing option for every palate, making it a go-to choice for those seeking both refreshment and performance enhancement.

The variety pack showcases the brand’s dedication to innovation, offering a range of flavors that cater to diverse preferences. From the invigorating Sparkling Orange to the tropical bliss of Sparkling Tropical Vibe, each flavor is a unique experience, promising to tantalize your taste buds and keep you coming back for more. The carefully curated selection not only provides a diverse array of tastes but also ensures that there’s a flavor for every occasion.

CELSIUS drinks are not only delicious but also come packed with essential elements. Featuring the proprietary Meta Plus blend, these beverages include ingredients such as taurine, guarana extract, caffeine, and ginger extract. This powerful combination works synergistically to enhance focus, boost endurance, and accelerate metabolism, making CELSIUS a smart choice for those who demand more from their energy drinks.

The 12 FL oz. can is the perfect on-the-go companion, fitting effortlessly into your active lifestyle. Whether you’re heading to the gym, tackling a busy workday, or embarking on outdoor adventures, the convenient size and reseal able cap make these drinks a practical and portable source of vitality. Say goodbye to midday slumps and embrace the natural lift provided by CELSIUS whenever you need it most. CLICK HERE TO BUY IT NOW

Beyond the functional benefits, CELSIUS takes pride in its commitment to health-conscious choices. All beverages in this variety pack are free from artificial preservatives, sweeteners, and high-fructose corn syrup. The brand’s dedication to transparency and quality ingredients ensures that you’re not only fueling your energy levels but doing so with a clean and guilt-free conscience.

The CELSIUS Assorted Flavors Variety Functional Essential Energy Drinks cater to the modern consumer’s desire for an energy boost without compromising on taste. The Sparkling Fuji Apple Pear tantalizes with a crisp and fruity profile, while Sparkling Wild Berry delights with a burst of bold berry goodness. The diversity in flavors adds a layer of excitement to the CELSIUS experience, making it more than just an energy drink — it’s a journey for your taste buds.

In conclusion, the CELSIUS Assorted Flavors Variety Functional Essential Energy Drinks redefine the energy drink landscape. With a commitment to functionality, diverse and delicious flavors, and a dedication to health-conscious choices, CELSIUS has crafted a beverage that transcends the traditional boundaries of energy drinks. Elevate your energy, tantalize your taste buds, and embrace a healthier and more vibrant lifestyle with CELSIUS.

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