#female handyman services

[megamindsecretlair]

'Twas the Night

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF, SMUT. Cursing, teasing, PIV, oral (male and female receiving), fingering (female receiving), minor OC lore (sorry!) Use of pet name. Mentions of the n-word, all consensual. Bad jokes, a different side to Terry. Sorry if I missed some. (Some meta jokes and winks and self-indulgent asf)

Summary: Treating yourself to a winter writing getaway, you are startled when the homeowner forgot to mention the 6’3 handyman that came by to fix things around the house. You find an unlikely friendship with the man, opening up about your romance novel. But when you confess that you need some inspiration, Terry is all too happy to be of service. 

Word Count: 19,198k

AO3 Link

A/N: WHEW. Forgive me for being late, I was nervous about this one. It's self-indulgent like a MF. I love this Reader and Terry SOOOO bad. I had a hard time letting this one end. So I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Snow crunched under your tire as you pulled up to the quaint cabin at the top of the mountain. You leaned forward in your seat, looking up at the address to make sure it matched. It did. This was the place.

You were glad the outside matched the picture. You couldn’t count how many times you arrived at an Air B&B, just for the lister to pull some fuck shit. 

For now, it looked like it lived up the hype. And you made it in time to watch the sun set over North Carolina a little later. You gripped the steering wheel and squealed with delight. This was perfect. Absolutely perfect. 

You rolled your truck up to the small, attached garage and got out of the car. You went up the wooden steps to the wide porch that looked ripped from a magazine. There was a hunter green swing set with a pillowed pad on top of the bench. It even had cute throw pillows to match. 

Per the owner’s instructions, you were able to easily find the key box disguised as a lantern. You unscrewed the false bottom, retrieved the key and garage door opener, and replaced the bottom. 

You headed back to the awaiting truck, looking back at the cabin. You still couldn’t believe that this was all yours for the next two months while you worked on your latest novel. Your family was sad about you missing Christmas and New Year’s with them, but you had all grown out of the traditions. There was no point to be around just to be around. 

By the end of this, you were going to have a rough draft to show your agent. That was a guarantee. You pulled your beanie down before getting back in your truck and pulled into the garage.

You entered and turned on lights as you went through the house, familiarizing yourself with the layout and decor. The owner went with a sage green theme, the cabinets in the kitchen painted to match the small fireplace in the living room adjacent to it. There was a throw blanket in the living room with the same color and you had a hunch that the bedroom would be much the same. 

The cabin held two distinct buildings with a short hallway to connect it. The bedroom was modest, room enough to not feel claustrophobic but it wasn’t huge either. You checked and true to form, the bedroom held nothing electrical in it. 

The king sized bed was almost too big for the room, but it really brought everything together. And yes, there was a sage green throw across the foot of the bed. The artwork on the walls were as non-offensive as possible, full of pictures of trees and animals. 

You pulled your phone from your jacket pocket and started recording. “Hey ya’ll, I made it safe and sound. And it’s like the pictures so it’s not a scam! I am loving all these windows but ugh, can these people do anything other than white curtains, white sheets, and pastels? Like damn, I don’t know if I feel safe around all this white!” 

You giggled as you went through the house, checking things out but mostly checking for anything weird or creepy. No cameras, no drilled holes, no false paintings. You showed a few things around the house and then flipped the camera towards you.

“I am signing off, my loves. I’ve got my inspection to do. Love you bunches, I hope to be two-hundred and seventy pages heavier after this!” You blew a kiss into the camera and then sent it to your friends and family. 

Almost immediately, your mom started in on the issue with you being out in the mountains by yourself. Your sister piped in to remind your mom that you were grown, still in the state, and it was pretty sexist to say a woman needed a man to protect her all the time. 

“Exactly,” you agreed out loud. You put up your phone and then really got to business. You took off your purple jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. You took off your purple hoodie and hung that up as well.  

You put on your headphones and your favorite cleaning playlist, full of hip hop and R&B oldies. Then, you retrieved cleaning supplies from your car and went through the house with a fine-tooth comb.

Some may call you…odd. And that was fair. You knew how annoying you could be about cleanliness, but you just really wanted to avoid getting sick. You turned into an entire baby when you got sick and considering no one was around to give you said princess treatment, it was best to remain healthy.

That and people were just plain fucking nasty. 

Luckily, it seemed like this cabin was professionally cleaned. You mostly sanitized every surface you could find, dancing and shaking your booty to the songs as they came on. “Never Too Much” by Luther Vandross came on while you were mopping the kitchen. 

You danced around the small kitchen in your mop slippers, singing into the mop handle as if it were a microphone. You sang along with Luther at the top of your lungs, badly, and let the song keep you energized. 

You headed to the bedroom with a black light to check over the sheets and mattress. There were a few specks of mysterious origins which was to be expected, but the mattress was fresh. The sheets were clean as well, but you weren’t going to hop in someone else’s sheets anyway. 

You hauled deep rose bedding into the room from your car and made up the bed how you liked. You brought your own pillows as well, fluffing it on top. Now the space was starting to feel comfortable. Your anxiety lowered inch by smooth inch. 

You looked around the bedroom, scanning for anything you might have missed. Your eyes caught on the window, on the mix of oranges and pinks. 

“Shit!” You screamed as you tore through the house, towards the kitchen, and made you a quick cup of tea. You doctored it how you liked and then added cold water. You took the mug and your own blanket outside to the back porch. 

The owner had built another world in the backyard. The patio was covered with an awning that connected to the house. There were egg chairs and a sofa set up around a stylish oak table. Plants sat in planters around the area and there was a rug underneath the table. Fairy lights were strewn about giving the space a warm glow.

“Oh fuck yessss,” you groaned, sitting down in the comfy egg chair and looked out over the open back yard. The grass was vividly green, swaying slightly with the light breeze. Woods encroached the perimeter, thick with leaves and underbrush. Anything could be out there, adding to the mystery and awe it inspired. 

You draped the throw around your shoulders and then sat in silence, watching the sunset. Soft blues were chased out of the sky by pinks, oranges, and the softest purples blending into the pitch black sky. 

Stars winked on as if there were tiny caretakers igniting each one. Your mind spun with idea after idea, but these you would let pass. Not everything had to be about writing. Some things just needed to be experienced. 

The tea kept you warm as the temperature dropped more and more. When your nose got too cold and you sniffed one too many times, you finally packed it in and went back to cleaning. Your playlist kept you upbeat as you cleaned out the bathroom.

Done with everything, you finally felt comfortable enough to shower. Scrubbing the day away with your favorite soap nearly made you ascend to another plane. You giggled to yourself as your mind spun once more, crafting a whole silly scenario just because. 

You sighed. You needed a man. Well, okay, ‘needed’ was a strong word. But you were giving up comedy gold over here. There should be someone around to witness it! Then again, did you really want to explain your quirks to someone? 

You shook your head. You were not here for all of that. You were here to get some much needed writing done away from your family and friends. You knew they meant well, but it was almost pathological with the way they relied so heavily on you. 

As much you knew that they loved you, you also wondered if they even saw you as a human being with your own interests. They knew you needed to write and yet they came bursting in anyway, calling, texting, bugging to no end. You were tired of explaining that you weren’t rejecting them, you just needed to focus on writing. 

Either they truly didn’t get it or they willfully ignored your needs. And you just didn’t have time for that. When your editor, Vanessa, suggested that you made enough money now that a writing retreat was well within your budget, it was like a wake up call. 

Of course. The solution was right there. You immediately hopped on Google to determine which place called to you more. You always wanted a winter writing escape and a few keystrokes later, you were on your way with your family scratching their heads. 

You dried yourself off in the bathroom and lotioned yourself up. You left the bathroom in a cloud of scented steam. You opted for a pair of panties and an oversized red T-shirt that reached down to your knees. The place had central heating but you didn’t want to turn it up too much. Just enough to warm the wooden flooring.

You spent the next hour making tacos, the heavenly aroma of meat and salsa making your mouth water. You cleaned as you went, not wanting to spend the next morning doing dishes. The cabinet below the sink squeaked and you debated telling Mr. Omar about it. It was something small but if you were going to be there for a while, you’d rather not deal with the inconvenience. Ehh, it was small. No need to bother the man for that. 

All done, you brought your plate to the living room and camped out, finding something to watch. You had been hearing so much about that show called Rivals on Hulu so you decided to watch it. When the first episode started, you screeched at the TV. It literally opened with someone joining the Mile High Club. 

For the rest of the night, you relaxed and zoned out. It was hard for you to truly relax, to truly turn your brain off and just enjoy something. But practice made perfect, so practice you will. 

When you yawned for the fifth time in two minutes, you finally gave up the ghost. You turned everything off and put up the food you made. Then you turned everything off as you headed down the short hallway to the bedroom. 

It was pitch black inside. Perfect. You only used your bedroom for sleeping and fucking. It signaled to your body that enough was truly enough. No distractions, no connections, nothing to prevent your body from sinking into sleep. And it worked every time. 

You crawled into the comfy bed, soothed by the familiar smell of your bedsheets. Your brain blissfully shut up and you fell into a lovely, dream-filled sleep. 

You woke up naturally early in the morning. The white curtains in this room were heavier than what was in the rest of the house, allowing limited lighting to reach the bed. Plus, the sun didn’t shine on this side so the added shade soothed your overworked eyes as soon as you got up. 

This…you sighed. This was what you needed. You felt so good having true silence for once. No one around, no one bugging you, no one bringing you into their drama, no one leaning on you, no one calling you. It got to the point where you were beginning to hate the sound of your name. Too many people used it to demand your attention, demand your time, and then curse you in the same breath when you retreated and wanted to recharge your mental batteries.

This would likely have to become a tradition. From now on, you would have to choose an Air B&B to get the first draft over with. At least after that, you had the idea out of your head and you could cobble it together among the noise of your demanding family. The brainstorming stage was the most crucial; you could not afford distractions.

You were itching to write but you knew that you needed to eat something first. You got up from bed, scratching beneath your bonnet as you picked your way down the short hallway to the other side of the house. 

A heavy boot clanged on something metal, drawing your attention to the kitchen where a tall man dug through your cabinets. You screamed, hopping in place from foot to foot. The man turned around with a jump revealing…a pretty face.

You ran towards the fireplace and grabbed a poker, brandishing it like a spear. “Who the fuck are you?!” You demanded, pulling your shirt down. Fuck. You should’ve worn pants. Well, no, fuck that, he shouldn’t be in your place! 

The man lifted his hands and revealed a screwdriver in his hand. “Wait, hol’ on,” he said. His deep voice was unexpected, sounding like a crack of fire on a cold, wintery night. 

You moved the poker around in the air, looking around for any other men that may be lurking. The cabin was small enough, the kitchen not too far from the living room. But, besides the bathroom, you could see everything at a glance. You looked out of the windows anyway, searching for any other cars or trucks outside. 

“I’m Mr. Omar’s handyman. He asked me to fix the cabinet,” the man said. His scruffy facial hair framed his symmetrical face and hid his lush lips. His eyes were intense, the color of a storm right as it kissed the ocean, and his eyebrows arched severely. He was unreal. But hot or not, he was still a stranger.

His eyes drew down to your legs and you tugged on your shirt as if you could conjure more material. “You think I’m going to buy that? What are you really doing here? You read his mail?” You asked.

You hadn’t seen any mail laying around the place when you cleaned the day before, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he dug through the trash or hacked Mr. Omar’s emails.

The man sighed and shook his head. “You watch too much TV,” he said. 

“And you need to answer my questions. Who the hell are you?” You asked. 

The man kept his hands up but lowered his elbows. “I’m the handyman,” he said, putting emphasis on the word as if that helped. “Terry.” 

You squinted at him as you looked around the living room for your phone. You had plugged it in before you went to sleep, but it was hard to look for it and keep an eye on the man. 

He watched you and tilted his head. You scowled. Was he just humoring you? If that motherfucker tried anything, he’d lose one of those perfectly sculpted eyes. 

You snatched your phone from the end table besides the couch. You held the poker up as a deterrent but the man - “Terry” - didn’t move. He watched you, hands up, calm as a cucumber. If he was a thief or a rapist, he was the worst one you’d ever seen. Or maybe he was the smartest. 

You sized him up as you dialed the homeowner’s phone number. “We’re gonna see about you, nigga,” you said. You brought the phone to your ear as Terry smirked. 

“I’d believe that more if your voice wasn’t so squeaky,” he said.

“I do not have a squeaky voice!” You yelled.

Terry smirked again, tilting his head as if you just proved his point. “Can I put my hands down?” 

“No,” you said. Mr. Omar didn’t answer on the first ring so you tried again. 

“Just like a chipmunk,” Terry said. Terry sighed and then leaned against the nearest sink, making you look at the full length of him. He wore dark wash jeans, heavy tan boots, and a black hoodie. He also wore a cream colored beanie pulled low over his head. It ought to be a damn sin to be so fine.

“Hello?” Mr. Omar’s accented voice came on the line. The subtle African pronunciations made you curious about where he was from but you were too chicken to ask. 

“Mr. Omar! There is a man in the rental claiming to be your ‘handyman’,” you said, managing to give Terry air quotes around the poker. 

Terry smirked and licked his lips, drawing attention to them. They were so pink and big. The more you paid attention to his features, the more striking he became. He looked like a painting made real. Or like one of those artist renditions of Egyptian royalty. 

“Ah yes, Terry-Terry. Good man,” Mr. Omar said. 

You sighed and turned your head. “What does he look like then?” You asked. 

The poker grew heavier now that Mr. Omar vouched for the man. However, you weren’t ready to lower it just yet. 

“Tall and like Mufasa,” Mr. Omar said. 

You snapped your eyes to Terry, comparing him to a lion. Nah, he was more like a Scar to be honest. But still, the image wouldn’t leave your mind and your thighs responded, tingling with awareness. 

You scowled at Terry who pressed his lips together. “Can I lower them now?” He asked, amusement written all over his face.

“Where’s your ID?” You asked. 

Terry sighed. “I’m not handing over my ID to a chipmunk,” he said.

You squeaked with an indignant huff and Terry shrugged his shoulders. “Is that all you need?” Mr. Omar asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming by?” You asked. You lowered the poker down by your waist, business end sticking out in case this Terry character wanted to try you. 

“Forgive me, my memory. I’m an old man,” he said. You rolled your eyes. He was far from an old man, in his early fifties and looked young enough to be a senior at college. The man kept himself fit and in shape, telling you all about his fitness journey during the many conversations you had about the property. 

“Right. Thanks, Mr. Omar,” you grumbled and hung up with him. Okay, so the man was legit. But that didn’t explain why he didn’t ring the doorbell. 

“I didn’t know anyone was here, I’m sorry. Just let me fix a few things on my list and I’ll be out your hair,” he said.

“Can’t you come back when I’m…” you trailed off and clicked your mouth shut. You were going to tell him to come back when your getaway was over but he didn’t need to know your timeline. He could swing back around and murk your ass. 

“When you’re done gathering nuts to hibernate?” He asked.

“Fuck you, I’m not a chipmunk,” you said, smiling despite yourself. 

Terry lowered his arms and then made a show of putting the screwdriver down. “Do I get to know your name?” He asked. 

You debated giving him even that much, but the manners that were drilled into you refused to let you be rude. You tugged on your shirt and his eyes followed the motion. His focus was…unnerving. You cleared your throat and told him your name. He repeated it one more time and you nodded, a tingle going up your spine at the way he rolled the syllables around with that slight Carolina accent. 

“Nice to meet you. Now that we’re good, can you point that somewhere else?” He asked.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Like you were even scared of it,” you said. You placed the poker down on the coffee table. The metal clinked against the glass top but your eyes were glued to Terry’s.

Terry chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “You and your mouseketeers are s’posed to be good at fencing,” he said.

“You know what! You get on my damn nerves!” You said and laughed, giving in to his bad jokes. 

“Can I do my job?” He asked. 

You were still wary about him being in the house while you were practically naked. You glanced away from him, looking at how far the bedroom was. “How many things do you have to do?” You asked.

“Mr. Omar left me a honey-do,” he said. 

You sighed. You didn’t like this one bit. You hadn’t planned on having a visitor while you got into the rhythm of things. But you also didn’t want this man to come back. Though…that wouldn’t totally be the worst thing. 

You licked your lips and looked between him and the bedroom. You didn’t want to linger on him but fuck, it was like one look wasn’t enough. Every time you looked at him, you noticed something different about him. 

“Tell you what. I’ll spread it out. I’ll only do a few things at a time. Deal?” He asked. He held out his hand, beckoning you to come closer. That was how all horror movies started. The devil himself smirked at you and you scowled, understanding exactly how Eve broke. Had you been her, you wouldn’t have stopped at just the apple. 

“Deal, I guess,” you said. 

Terry lowered his hand and nodded. “Deal. You won’t even know I’m here,” he said.

Riiiiight. “Just…stay out here. I hear a boot coming down the hall and it’s game over,” you said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, making his accent thicker. The mischief in his eyes made you scowl harder. But his eyes dropped lower and lower and you pulled on your shirt. 

You made a beeline to your room, slammed the door shut, and sighed heavily. This was unreal. Absolutely unreal. 

You grabbed the nearest pair of sweatpants, yanked it on, and then took a few more deep breaths. You listened for any sense of movement, any creak of the floorboards, or sound of breathing. When there wasn’t any, you cracked open the door. 

You headed towards the kitchen to find Terry exactly where you left him, bent over the cabinet as he fixed the hinge. At your approach, he stopped and looked sideways at you. His side profile was lethal, jawline sharp enough to cut glass. 

Your belly flipped and you held it like it was a traitor. As if it could give you away. You breezed past him and grabbed your laptop off of the kitchen island, clutching it to your chest as you carried it to the living room and curled up in the corner of the couch. 

From this angle, Terry couldn’t sneak behind you and you had a full view of him as he worked. You opened your laptop and opened up your notes for your latest novel. You had the major plot ideas down but you needed to flesh in your characters.

As you researched, adding pins on Pinterest for inspiration, you couldn’t forget that Terry was there no matter what else you did. 

He moved with grace like he was completely in tune with his body. The delicate way he held and used the tools drew your attention to his long, thick fingers. Every so often, his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he worked, screwing the bolt down or digging for another screw. He was a distraction and a half. 

“You need a picture?” 

You gasped as you blinked, coming back to reality. Terry looked sideways at you, his eyes low and sleepy-like. 

Wow, your thoughts were not holy. You mentally slapped some sense into yourself. This man was a stranger. A very fine, gorgeous stranger, but an hour ago, you thought he was going to kill you. Be so real right now.

“What?” You asked.

“You were staring,” he said.

“Was not,” you said and sat back on the couch.

“Was to,” he said, testing the cabinet by swinging it back and forth. It didn’t squeak so Terry dropped into a squat to investigate the cabinet below the sink. The stretch of the squat revealed a gorgeous ass to match.

That was it. The man wasn’t real. He had to be conjured from God’s own imagination. God was just showing out when he made Terry and it wasn’t fair. All that fine piece of meat…

Speaking of, you added “piece of meat” under your male character’s profile in your notes. “For your nosy information, staring off into the distance is part of my process. If you happen to step into my line of sight, that’s on you,” you said. 

“That right?” He asked and you could hear the humor in his deep voice.

“Uh-huh,” you said. You typed a few more notes, taking in tiny details about Terry. The slope of his shoulders. The curve of his brow. His high cheekbones. Your male character came together more quickly in your mind now that you had a model to work off of. 

The cabinet squeaked, breaking you of your thoughts. “It’s singing the song of your people, you know,” Terry said. 

You sucked your teeth and Terry chuckled. “Me and you are going to fight,” you said. 

“I got a ladder if you want to use it,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and pinched your lips together. He was really going to make you scream. “Are you always this annoying?” You asked.

“I can be worse,” he said. 

You stared off into an invisible camera. You could hear the laugh track now. You shook your head and decided to ignore his shenanigans. You fell into a comfortable silence somehow, typing away as more and more ideas came to you. It was no longer weird that there was a strange man in the cabin. Despite being so big, he had an uncanny ability to take up as little space as possible. 

“What are you working on? You a writer or somethin’?” He asked. 

“Yeah, what gave me away?” You asked.

“The laptop,” he said.

You sucked your teeth and hid your smile behind your hands, pretending like you were suffering the sting of a thousand cuts. Terry chuckled. “I know you want to laugh,” he said.

“Do not,” you said and moved your hands, settling on a smile. That was all his fine ass deserved. 

“You write anything I may have read?” He asked. The hinge on the cabinet knocked against the wood as Terry pried it off with the screwdriver. His hands really were huge and you briefly wondered what it’d feel like wrapped around your ass. 

You pressed your thighs together and adjusted yourself on the couch. This man was proving dangerous afterall. One meeting with him and you were picturing disgusting scenarios to write. 

“Umm, no, my books wouldn’t be your speed,” you said. 

“I like nature though. I’m sure a chipmunk survival guide would be right up my alley,” he said.

“The door is right there,” you said, chuckling. He truly got on your damn nerves. But you wanted to hear more. His voice was smooth and deep, a weakness for sure. Your voice kink was in hyperdrive, teasing out every way he sounded out words and syllables to be replayed later in your mind. 

“C’mon, what do you write?” He asked. He glanced at you briefly before returning to replacing the hinge. He dropped to his knees as he worked, putting him in a position to arch his back. 

Mm, mm, mm. You eye-fucked him as he leaned forward, holding the hinge in place while he screwed in the first screw. He leaned back to dig into the tool box by his feet and you looked away, heat flashing over your skin. 

You did not know this man. You did not know this man. You did not –

“Not gon’ tell me?” He asked. 

“What happened to not knowing you were even there?” You asked. He was worse than your folks at home. If you wanted to be harassed, you would have saved yourself the money. 

“You’re the one staring,” he said.

You took a deep breath to keep from cussing. Maybe it was his face. Maybe he was too pretty to yell at. Or maybe he was so pretty it spurned you to want to hit him. Because as much as you wanted to smack him, you wanted to smack his ass even more. 

Sweet fuck you needed to get laid. Maybe you’d redownload that dating app your friends made you download after your last book. You deleted it because apparently, guys took offense when all you wanted was sex from them.

“I write books,” you said, chickening out at the last minute. It wasn’t exactly easy to tell people that you wrote explicit shifter romances. Urban fantasy settings let you have the best of both worlds. Modern technology combined with fantasy and magic, blended together, and created something that scratched all of your itches. 

“What kind of books?” He asked.

“Paperbacks,” you said.

Terry chuckled and shook his head. “If you don’t say, I’m going to start guessing,” he said. 

You groaned and Terry chuckled at your theatrics. You held up your hand. “Please, spare me. If you must know, I write romance novels,” you said. 

“Romance novels…like the ones where the guys have a forty inch dick, eight feet tall, and long flowing red hair?” Terry asked.

You howled with mirth as that image was now seared into your brain. “Ew, yuck! Why! Why would you make me picture that?” You asked when you had enough air in your lungs to breathe. 

“I’m just shooting the shit. That’s wassup though,” he said. 

“Thank you,” you said slowly, full suspicion. Terry chuckled but didn’t say anything further as he continued working on the cabinets. 

You went back to your brainstorming, filling in details about your female main character. You searched for her fatal flaw, the lie she told herself in order to survive before the meet cute with the main male character. 

You sighed. You ought to give them names. But you were not prepared to deal with the ads on Nameberry or clicking endlessly on name generators. But you couldn’t very well keep calling them ‘female main character’ and ‘male main character’. 

You brought up Nameberry first in the hopes that you’d find something quicker using the alphabet lists. A Q name would be cute. Qianna? Ugh, there weren’t many cute Q names. 

“I didn’t know writing could be so hard core,” Terry said.

You looked at him over the top of your laptop with a scowl. “Are you almost done? You’re stinking up the place,” you said.

Terry chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll finish out the cabinets and come by tomorrow for the shower and air filters,” he said.

“What’s wrong with the shower?” You asked. The way he said it…he could make even the most innocent words sound naughty. Because now, you were thinking of the shower. And him in the shower. And all those suds dripping down his naked body…

“Water bill is going up. So Mr. Omar wants me to check for a leak,” he said. 

You hadn’t noticed anything but you weren’t a professional handyman either. “How’d you come to be here, Terry?” You asked.

Terry slanted his eyes towards you. “Curious about me?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes. “I could go back to ignoring you,” you said. 

“I’d believe that if you weren’t staring so much.” 

You took a deep breath and Terry waved you off. “I’ll stop. I got into some deep shit a year back. I wanted to take my mind off it by being as busy as possible. Working with my hands relaxes my mind,” he said.

You nodded. You could respect that. “You live around here?” 

“Mr. Omar has another spot up the ways. I work on his properties and I get to stay for free,” he responded. 

You sighed wistfully. The things you would do to be able to have an arrangement like that. Only without the handyman part, because fuuuuuck that. “Your family doesn’t miss you?” You asked.

Terry took a measured breath and paused briefly inworking. He then screwed in the final screw and tested the cabinet door, no squeak to be found. “Naw. Not really,” he said quietly. 

Duly noted. Shutting up. This was why you weren’t that social. You had a particular knack for picking up on shit people didn’t want to discuss. You hid behind your laptop screen, hunting for more names for your main characters. 

Gabrielle was always a cute girl name to you. Now for the perfect boy name…Rashad…Theo…Wesley? Wesley and Gabrielle? That sounded kind of cute together. You put it on the list of maybes and continued hunting for different pairs just in case. Though each one you found didn’t spark as much interest as Wesley and Gabrielle. 

“I’m done for the day. In case you had a change of heart,” Terry said.

“Nice try. I didn’t get any work done because of you,” you said. 

Terry smirked, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Then my job’s really done,” he said. 

You groaned playfully and put your laptop down on the coffee table. You had pants on now but you still felt exposed. Like you were still standing there half-naked. Terry’s eyes tracked down your body as if he recalled your bare legs as well. 

You weren’t stupid. You knew he had a passing interest. But what man wouldn’t after living up in the mountains of North Carolina? You doubted he was starving for female attention and you had a book to finish, come hell or high water. Pretty distractions like him did you no justice.

You’d just have to pull out ole reliable, Laz Alonso. Thinking of that man already had you hot and bothered and the vibrator you brought with you would have to be more than sufficient to get you through the winter. 

You approached Terry cautiously as he packed away his tools. You openly stared at his backside as he closed the tool box and stood up to his full height. He was so damn tall. Guys like him just didn’t exist in real life. It wasn’t fair.

Terry walked to the front door ahead of you. You kept some distance, not wanting to give him a chance to get too close. Your alarms were still on high alert though he did a good job of putting you at ease.

As he crossed the threshold, your stomach rumbled. Loudly. In all the excitement and hubbub, you forgot to grab food. Terry turned to the sound, stopping a few feet from the front door. 

“There’s a bar down the mountain if you ever want to get out the house,” he said. 

You pinched your lips. “That doesn’t sound too bad. But maybe not today,” you said and leaned against the door jam. The cold air blew into the warm house, instantly raising goosebumps on your arms. 

Terry nodded. “You change your mind, let me know,” he said. “And if you notice anything that needs fixing, definitely let me know.”

You smiled. The thoughts he conjured…”Thanks, I truly appreciate it. But how would I let you know?”

Terry chuckled. He nodded towards the kitchen. “I left my number on the fridge. Need anything, just call.”

You glanced back towards the fridge and saw a few sticky notes on it. You turned to him and nodded. “I’m glad you turned out to not be a creep.” 

Terry nodded. “I’m glad you take your safety seriously. Most people don’t. Lock up after me,” he said. 

“Yes, sir,” you said, deepening your voice. 

Terry huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Can’t hide that voice, sorry,” he said. 

“Shut up! And get home safely, Terry,” you said. 

Terry took the steps down fast and then spun around to walk backwards. “Worried about me, chipmunk?” 

You rolled your eyes. “No, I’d rather not explain to Mr. Omar why his handyman couldn’t finish around the house,” you called out to him, raising your voice the further away he walked. 

He waved to you, making it to his truck parked a ways in front of the front door. It was a big blue truck with a larger bed than most you’ve seen. It suited him though. And his rugged appearance. He didn’t strike you as the type to drive a luxury SUV and complain about his shoes getting soaked through from the snow.

You went back into the warm house, shut the door, and locked it behind you. You tapped on it once, turning away with a smile. Now…down to real business.

True to his word, Terry came over nearly every day for the next two weeks fixing things around the house. He managed to find a way to annoy the ever loving hell out of you, but he also made you laugh so hard, you nearly snorted tea out of your nose. 

You found inspiration with the little things he did or said. Until “Wesley”, your male main character, started to move and sound like Terry in your mind. You would feel bad, except there was no chance in hell Terry would ever read this book. Ever. 

The beginning came together smoothly in your mind. Wesley, the too-serious wolf shifter investigator, was married to his work, only going home long enough to eat, shower, and sleep. Gabrielle, the famous tech genius by day, was also a major thief by night. And as a surprise to no one, Wesley didn’t know he was investigating Gabrielle’s latest crime, the theft of a magic orb from a private collection. 

Now…where could they bump into each other… a blind date sounded interesting to you but nothing too easy. Nothing too cliche. Hmm…grocery store? She stumbles upon him after shift? Maybe it’s a full moon and he protects her? 

You groaned and backspaced. You were thinking too hard on this one. This one wasn’t coming together in your mind. You looked back over your character descriptions; maybe there was something there to spark interest. 

Heavy boots stomped down the hallway from the bedroom as Terry had taken a look at the closet door. So many broken hinges. What were people renting this house for? Parties where they pretended to be animals, swinging from the ceiling? 

You snorted at your own joke just as Terry entered the living room. You looked at him and stopped laughing but Terry raised an eyebrow. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said. 

He chose a dark gray hoodie this time, the same cream colored beanie, and dark jeans. His toolbox was held loosely in his big hands, and your body flushed with heat. Lost in the brainstorming fog, you hadn’t had a chance to play with Laz and your body reminded you of that. Painfully. 

“All done in the bedroom?” You asked.

Terry eyed you and you blinked innocently at him. Even as his eyes made your pussy flutter. Down girl, down girl, DOWN girl…

“Done. Unless you found something I need to fix?” He asked. 

You squinted at him but for once, his face was unreadable. You couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a double entendre or not. Maybe you were just a horny mess. You’d have to look at your period tracker to see if you were ovulating. Because at the moment, you were one step away from asking that man to fix your dripping pussy.

“No, no, no, no. All good,” you muttered. If you couldn’t get some, then at least you could write the filthiest things for Wesley and Gabrielle. As soon as you figured out how they meet. 

Terry moved into the kitchen, setting his toolbox down. “I’ll check the windows. There’s a storm moving up here in a week or so. You good on firewood?” He asked.

“I can’t just use the heater?” You asked. 

“What if the power goes out?” He asked.

“That really happens? Or are you trying to scare me?” You asked. Well damn. You didn’t have the power going out on your list of tragedies that could happen while you were out here. You knew it could happen but it was rare that you experienced it. One of the pitfalls of staying in someone else’s place. You didn’t have all of your emergency kits. 

There was one in your rental car but that was inadequate as hell. You sighed. Fuck. You were going to have to venture into town anyway. You glanced at your laptop. You had the major story beats fleshed out, but filling in the rest was giving you a headache behind your eye. 

Still, you itched to keep going after it with a hammer. You wanted to keep pushing yourself and see if you couldn’t solve your problem. It was like you just weren’t feeling this one for some reason, despite being overjoyed at the sexy idea.

“Not trying to scare you,” he promised.

You pouted. “I haven’t tried lighting a fire yet. So I don’t know about the firewood,” you said, feeling like you were five years old for not checking something so crucial. But! You would give yourself grace. You didn’t know before but now you’d make it a point to check everything before venturing off to la la land in your head. 

Terry nodded. “I’ll check then,” he said. 

“Thank you. Really,” you said.

“My pleasure, chipmunk,” he said with a chuckle.

“You get on my damn nerves!” You yelled after him as he left the house with a booming chuckle. You shook your head as you waited for him to return. 

Though this was meant to be a retreat for you, to explore on your own without the watchful eye of your family, you kind of liked having Terry around. He managed to pull you from your spiraling about your writing in the nick of time. You were able to return to your novel with a second wave of inspiration. 

But this meet cute was kicking your Black ass. Like this should have been the easiest part. But it was often the easiest parts that tripped you up the most. 

Terry reentered the house, kicking his shoes on the mat before stepping inside. The door banged shut behind him, a strong wind passing over you before dispersing in the warm house. 

“Firewood’s low. After it thaws a bit, I’ll chop more,” he said.

Mmm, Terry…chopping wood…mm, mm, mm. You had to go on a date with Laz tonight. Maybe a little post nut clarity would work in your favor. 

“Thanks. Is there anything I can get you from the store? I’ll need to head down the mountain after all,” you said.

“Road may be slippery right now. You’d be better off going tomorrow,” he said. He pulled his toolbox closer and flipped it open. 

You placed your laptop on the coffee table in front of you and then stood up, letting your inside throw blanket slip from your shoulders. You stretched, your limbs and back popping in some areas as you twisted one way and then another. 

You crossed closer to him, going towards the kitchen for a cup of tea. If you were going to brave the outside world, you’d need a little help. As the kettle warmed up on the counter, you faced Terry and leaned against the edge. 

How to put this without sounding batshit crazy? “It’s important for me to go today,” you said. “Preferably before the sun goes down.”

Terry scrunched up his face. “Is there a special vampire version of chipmunks I don’t know about?” 

“You get on my nerves!” You said and giggled. Terry smirked with you as you giggled and you slowly quieted down. You cleared your throat. “No, it’s just important. I do take my safety seriously. Maybe more so than most.” 

Terry eyed you with those beautiful eyes of his before nodding. “Alright, I’ll take you,” he said.

“Wait, what? No, no, no, that’s not what I meant. I can get down myself,” you said. 

“No one said you couldn’t. But the roads really can get slippery if you don’t know where to look. The snow doesn’t stick to the ground like it used to and it can make driving those twisting roads more dangerous.” 

You put your hands on your hips and stepped closer, nothing but the narrow corner of the kitchen island between you. “I don’t need a babysitter, Terry,” you said. 

Terry held up his hands. “I’m not a babysitter. I’m a handyman,” he said.

You pinched your lips together to keep from smiling. He was truly going to make you put him through the wall. 

“I wouldn’t feel right letting you go down the mountain by yourself. Not that you’re not capable. But because the roads really are that dangerous. And I’d rather not have to come dig your ass out of a ditch,” he said.

“Ouch,” you said, picturing just that scenario. The roads seemed like a twisty maze, full of sharp corners and narrow lanes. Driving up when the roads were clear in the morning hadn’t been that much of a hassle but you weren’t too sure about going back down. It was why you tried to bring as much stuff with you as you could, to avoid that exact circumstance.

“Go get dressed,” he said, his voice deep and commanding. 

You prickled. “Don’t tell me what to do,” you said. Did he hear the breathiness in your voice? Because holy hell. That voice needed to boss you around more often.

Terry lifted his sleeve to look at his watch. “Daylight’s wasting,” he said.

You scowled. “I’m getting dressed because I decided to and because I concede that I don’t know these roads that well. Not because you told me to,” you said. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, eyes dancing with mischief. Ugh. You bet he ran his mama ragged growing up. 

The kettle clicked as it was done, the boiling water settling down. You poured a mug full and took it with you to the bedroom and sipped it while you got dressed. 

You opted for a simple pair of jeans, boots, and your favorite purple hoodie. You didn’t know how Terry didn’t walk around with a jacket as well. Every bite of air you felt outside chilled you down to the bone. 

Leaving your bedroom, Terry eyed you up and down before jerking his head for you to follow. You locked the door behind you and then followed Terry to his truck. Your combined footsteps crunched on the snow underfoot, leaving footprints that quickly disappeared in the gentle snowfall. 

You looked up towards the sky, grinning at the overcast sky. Flurries floated down, landing on your cheeks, eyelashes, and lips. You licked away a snowflake that landed on you and looked towards Terry, smiling softly at you.

“You must think I’m silly,” you said.

“Not what I’m thinking,” he said. You stared but he didn’t say anything more. He just smirked and held open the passenger door for you. The truck was bigger up close and you had a hard time holding onto the door and climbing in.

“Here,” Terry said, gently sliding his hands around your waist. You looked over your shoulder at him. He was close enough to see how pretty and long his eyelashes were. It wasn’t fair that he was pretty down to the individual hairs on his lashes. 

His big hands felt like heaven on your hips as he helped you lift into his truck. His hands slid from your waist and you missed the heat of it instantly. Terry cleared his throat and then closed the door. 

You eyed him as he rounded the front of his truck, climbed in, and started the car. He turned the heater on full blast and before long, you were headed down the mountain. The type of road you were on was paved and everything, but every so often, you’d hit a patch of woods on the side of the road and there were guard rails to prevent you from toppling over.

Terry took the turns slowly, but expertly. Your eyes were drawn to his hands every time the steering wheel slipped through his fingers while he turned. He kept his nails trimmed and clean, causing you to bite your lip, thinking of him fingering you. 

No, you stop that, you chastised yourself. He was not a piece of meat. But sweet fuck, the packaging was pretty.

“How’s the writing going?” Terry asked.

“Huh?” You asked. You heard him, you just needed more time to let your brain get off nasty mode. Though, who were you kidding? It stayed nasty. 

Terry repeated his question. He took a long turn that caused you to lean against your seatbelt. It dug across your chest and you moved it to a more comfortable spot. 

“Good. I think. I can never tell. But I’m still trying to figure out how the characters meet,” you said.

“It’s that important?” He asked. 

You nodded, though he didn’t see because he was being a good driver. He kept his eyes faced forward, driving carefully down the road. Every so often, the woods would break and there would be someone’s property, full of horses or cows. You marveled at a large brown cow hanging out just because. 

“The meet cute is one of the most important parts of the book. It sets the tone for the relationship,” you said.

“Yeah? How so?” He asked.

“Are you sure you want to hear about all this? You don’t have to be polite,” you said, giving him an easy out. 

“I like listening to you,” he said.

Oh. You smiled, looking down at your hands in your lap. You launched into the nitty gritty of romance writing. The less glamorous side of it. It took you a long time to learn when to linger, when to skip ahead, and when to let the characters give into the chemistry. You weren’t always sure you pulled it off, but your sales were steady so you’d take it. 

Terry listened the entire time, asking more and more questions to feed his curiosity. He still threw in teases about your voice, the subject matter, and your little smut buddies, your writing group that talked about sex all day long. 

He pulled the truck into a plaza with a few different stores spread out. “You’re gonna tell me guys don’t talk about sex all day? Why’s it a problem when women do it?” 

Terry pulled into an available parking spot and turned the car off. The chill from outside immediately crept in, forcing the warm air to evaporate. “Sure, but we don’t write it down or send porn to each other,” he said.

“We do not send porn!” You said. Liar, liar. You had sent a porn link to your group chat earlier to discuss the inspo for Wesley. 

Terry gave you an incredulous look before getting out of the truck. Your heartbeat sped up as he walked around to your side. His hands would be on you again. You liked it. Perhaps too much, because when he opened the door, you jumped. 

“You good?” He asked.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Terry steadied you by the waist as you climbed out of his massive truck. When he set you on the ground, your hands lingered on his forearms. Realizing you were holding on, you hummed and stepped away with a smile.

You went shopping, picking up essentials for a quick emergency kit. Flashlight with extra batteries, bottled water, granola bars with a long shelf life, back up portable chargers for your phone, extra over the counter meds, first aid kit, whistle, Lysol wipes, hand sanitizer, paper soap, and matches. 

Terry’s eyebrows rose with each new item you picked up, working off your memory of your home and work kits. So you liked to be prepared, so what. You were only mildly embarrassed as he walked with you down each aisle, adding in things you hadn’t thought of for snow weather. Extra thick socks, thermals, extra scarf and beanie. Just in case. 

“Thank you, Terry, really,” you said as Terry helped put the items in the bed of his truck. 

“You can thank me by swinging by the bar with me. I’m pretty hungry. You?” He asked. 

You grinned. “Was this your plan all along?” You asked.

“Maybe,” he said and smirked. Ugh. He was too fucking pretty. It made you sick really. Sick with fucking lust. Maybe a drink was just what the doctor ordered. 

“Fine. But you could have just asked, you know,” you said.

“I know.” After he helped you in the car, he made the short trip to the bar he told you about.

The parking lot was large but mostly empty. It was nearing the evening and the temperature dropped bit by bit, your breath escaping in clouds. Terry escorted you up the long wooden stairs towards the earthy bar.

Inside, the place was bigger than you expected with two distinct sections. On the right, there were dining tables set up for bigger groups. Some of those tables were filled up and there were TVs stationed around turned to various games. 

Terry said hello to the staff as he escorted you to the left, where the main bar was set up. The tables on this side sat higher off the ground and it had bar stools pushed close to the table. There was a door that led out onto a patio for outside dining but no one sat outside at the moment. 

Terry pulled out a bar stool for you and helped you climb on. He effortlessly sat, his long legs having no trouble touching the ground. Bastard. 

The bartender, introduced as Adam, came around to take your drink orders. “I am a cider girlie. What’s good?” You asked Adam.

Adam stroked his silky salt and pepper beard and looked behind him. “We got a few things. How you feel about blueberry?” 

“Blueberry cider?” You asked.

Adam grinned. “If you don’t like it, it’s on the house,” he said. Adam leaned forward on the bar top and you smiled back. Oh, he was adorable. 

Terry cleared his throat. “How’s Melissa?” Terry asked, bringing a beer to his lips and sipping. 

Adam’s smile didn’t waver. “She left me. I’m all alone in my modest, but spacious house,” Adam said, never taking his eyes from you.

You giggled and waved him off. “Oh stop!” You said. 

“With a beautiful woman like you, how can I?” Adam asked. 

Terry made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a growl. You side eyed him as he shared a glance with Adam. Adam knocked on the bar top with a grin and then moved away to grab you a blueberry cider. He popped the top for you and waited for you to take a sip.

It was…actually delicious. You nodded. “Okay, not bad, Adam,” you said.

Adam’s permanent grin spread wider. “I aim to please,” he said. 

You hid your giggle behind your hand and shook your head. “Did Melissa really leave you?” You asked. 

Adam groaned and looked at Terry. “Thanks, T. Yes, she really did. But only to visit her parents. I still needed to work,” Adam said. 

“Aw, why’d you get stuck with holiday duty? You piss off the boss?” 

“He is the boss,” Terry grumbled. 

You smiled at him. These two. “I bet ya’ll get into so much trouble together,” you said.

“Too much. And it was always Terry’s idea,” Adam said. 

“Fuck outta here,” Terry said and chuckled. Adam launched into a story about growing up with Terry, running around like the latch key kids they were. Adam had dared Terry to jump off a rock formation near a creek which got both their asses handed to them by Terry’s mama. 

You laughed through the story, Adam an amazing storyteller. Terry filled in details grudgingly, pulled from him the more Adam kept going. 

Your food arrived in the middle of Adam speaking. You ordered tiger sauce wings and the chicken was huge. It came with fries and you immediately dug in, your hunger taking over something vicious. 

Adam finally left you two alone as Adam had to tend to more and more people as the night dragged on. 

“Your friend is funny,” you said. 

Terry grunted. “But he doesn’t get on your nerves?” He asked. 

“Nope. Guess you bring it out of me,” you said. 

Terry rolled his eyes but dug into his own steak and potatoes. You both lobbed questions back and forth, learning more about each other now than over the two weeks he fixed minor things around the rental. 

You downed cider after cider, getting lost in the way Terry told stories. He had a slower approach than Adam, but he was no less engaging. With that voice of his, he set the scene perfectly as a narrator. 

The cider warmed you from the inside out, making your face flush with heat. But it was Terry’s voice that had something else flushing as well. Your pussy fluttered every time he licked the corner of his mouth while he spoke. 

It ached every time you spoke and his focus was completely on you. He didn’t blink away, he didn’t look down, he didn’t interrupt. It only highlighted how much you craved that. Your family and friends only had so much patience for you before they were off, dominating the conversation in ways you couldn’t actively participate in. It felt more like they just wanted someone to talk at, not with.

Not the case with Terry. He included you in the conversation, stretching it, and flowed effortlessly from one topic to the next. There was rarely a lull in your conversation and your heads dipped closer and closer together the more you spoke. 

The crisp apple and blueberry taste coated your tongue but also loosened your lips. “I see it all so clearly in my head, but then I get too much in my head, and it all comes crashing down. I can’t connect with this one for some reason,” you said. 

Terry had asked you more about novel writing, the concept completely foreign to him. He confessed that he didn’t think that much effort went into it. Maybe not for others. But for you, it felt like you agonized over every single word. Were you true to the characters? Did anything make sense? Would it hit for others like it hit for you? 

“Why’s it not connecting for you?” Terry sipped his second beer, as sober as a judge. While you felt too relaxed. 

You sighed and looked away from him, peeling the label off of the bottle with your nail. “No offense, but men. I usually have a man to play with while writing to keep the inspiration going but sex-only arrangements only work if the guy initiates it. If I tell them I don’t want anything more, that’s when they get in their feelings,” you said with a shiver. 

Terry’s grin spread slowly across his lips, revealing a neat row of teeth. Oh, my. He was damn delicious. “So you treat them like a ho and they get mad?” 

“Yes!” You tapped his shoulder. Finally, a man who got you. “Like ugh, I know what I want and it’s not these dudes I find. I won’t settle for anything less than what I write about on the daily. So no, I don’t want to date, a girl just wants to get fucked, you know? No talking, no giggling, just work me over like a screen door in a hurricane and then get the fuck out,” you said. You nodded your head to emphasize your point. 

You sighed deeply and smiled at Terry, your eyes drooping. You were a little tipsy. Terry lifted an eyebrow and then your words echoed in your mind. Your jaw dropped. Oh god. You were mortified. 

“I-I am so sorry. That was so rude,” you said.

Terry lifted his fingers in a small wave. “Naw, you’re good,” he said.

“No, wow. That was inappropriate. I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry. We should go, please,” you said. 

Terry turned towards you on the bar stool. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that asked, chipmunk,” he said. 

Your cheeks were still on fire. It was one thing to talk like this with your girlfriends or your sister, or even your writing group. That was normal. But you talked with Terry as if you’d known him forever. It took you one business year to make friends, putting them through the gauntlet to see if they’d actually stick around. More than that to let your freak flag fly. 

“If you truly want to go, we will. But I promise, we’re cool. You don’t have to censor yourself around me,” he said.

And somehow, that permission made your shoulders droop from around your ears. You nodded, taking a sip of water. You didn’t have to apologize for being true to yourself. And it was like you crossed some invisible social boundary with Terry. Conversation flowed more smoothly, your heads dipped closer together, and your shoulders brushed against each other.

“So what are you looking for then? If not these dudes you meet,” he said. 

You spent the rest of the night diving into past dating history and what you looked for in a partner. Terry shared what he liked as well. Someone that laughed at his world-stopping jokes, someone kind, and someone goofy.

Instantly, you compared yourself to the small list of women he’d been with. The traits he looked for. Did you fit the bill? Were you someone he could shove through the mattress? 

It seemed wild to think about that even though you already swore him off. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested. You were too interested. Too aware. Too conscious of him. Of the way he moved, talked, or laughed. You anticipated what would make him smile, what would make him groan, or what would make him roll his eyes. 

He was hands down the only man that could make you lose your marbles and you hadn’t even taken him to bed. The thought filled you with so much dread and fear, that you had to push him away to stay sane. You had to keep him firmly on the other side of the brain before your inner romantic started planning your wedding in your mind.

You could easily fall for Terry Richmond. And you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to survive if he couldn’t. Not in the way you wanted. Not in the way you craved. Not in the way you wrote about, book after book, story after story, chasing a phantom man in your mind that loved you in the way you hungered for. 

Adam called last call and gave Terry the sober vibe check. Which consisted of Terry holding his middle finger to nose while standing on one leg for a minute. You laughed at the sight, instantly taking a picture because there was no chance in hell you wanted to forget the look on his face. 

He flipped you the bird while he settled with Adam and then escorted you outside. The wind was bitter, biting through your jacket and hoodie. Terry stepped closer to you, taking the brunt of it as the wind came from his direction.

You joked on the way to his truck, nudging him every so often as you walked. The liquor loosened you both up, navigating the newfound familiarity together. Whether it was by intention or by accident, the touches were not unwelcome.

At his car, you leaned against the truck. You nudged your chin towards the bar. “It’s a great place. I see why you wanted to show it to me,” you said.

He leaned a hand against the car, blocking most of the wind. But it had the added benefit of bringing him warmth closer. He smelled delicious like the outside air he belonged to. Like pine needles and cinnamon. 

“Figured you might. Did it help with your book?” He asked.

You gasped. “Was that the goal?” You asked.

He shrugged. “A little. I figured you were too in your head,” he said.

“You think you know me, Terry Richmond,” you said and tapped his chest. He rocked back on his heels as if it actually hurt him and you rolled your eyes.

“No. But I’m learning to,” he said.

You giggled nervously as you blinked up at him. Light from the signs on the bar barely reached, but it highlighted him from behind. Light cut across his jaw and cheek and made his lashes glow at the tip.

Terry stepped closer, giving you all the room to step away or block him. But that was the last thing your body wanted. You stayed put, sliding your hands against his broad chest. Your fingers curled around the fabric and he sighed. 

He brought his face closer to yours and inhaled. You hummed just as his lips pressed against yours. There was nothing hurried about it. Nothing filthy or salacious. But it warmed you from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. 

Terry drew back and looked you in the eyes. You didn’t need to say anything. Didn’t need to share anything. You supposed kissing him was inevitable. Fated. 

Terry tucked you into his truck and his hands lingered, reluctantly letting you go only because you were seated and there was nothing to help with anymore. You smiled at him and he finally closed the door. It gave you enough time to let loose the breath you held as he walked around.

He drove carefully back up the mountain. Snow had stuck to the road in some areas, so Terry went extra slow to be careful. If it weren’t for his huge lights, you wouldn’t be able to see a got damn thing.

It was pitch black outside, as if the world had disappeared during your ascent. As soon as the headlights passed on to something else, the darkness encroached and gobbled it back up. It was trippy. Yet strangely called to your inner emo. 

The ride was mostly silent, soft music playing on the radio too low for you to pick up words. Terry found your rental without a hitch and came around to let you out of his truck. He walked with you to the front door and hovered outside of it while you stepped in.

You put your head on the door, swinging back and forth. In a minute, Terry would have to fix that one too. You giggled at your joke and Terry smirked.

“What’s so funny, chipmunk?” He asked. 

You told him and Terry groaned and shook his head. “That was a terrible joke,” he said.

“What! No it wasn’t!” You squeaked with your outrage, sputtering for the right words to defend yourself. You could call your jokes bad, he couldn’t. You didn’t know why just yet, but he couldn’t. 

“Was to,” he said and stepped closer. Terry’s eyes drooped as he leaned his shoulder against the door frame. He took up the majority of it, so large and imposing. Yet his energy was nothing but peaceful and quiet, setting you at ease in a way only a thorough cleaning could achieve.

“Was not,” you said, holding your ground. You wanted to invite him in. Wanted to go ahead and explore what he started.

Terry sighed and dug his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Goodnight, chipmunk,” he said. 

Oh. You matched his sigh and rolled your eyes. “Good night, Terry,” you said. You’d have to think of a good nickname for him. Like Big Bird…Clifford…whenever it came to you, you were gonna hit him with it. 

Terry stepped back and waited while you closed and locked the door. You heard his boots travel down the steps and into his awaiting truck. 

You leaned your back against the cold door and sighed once more. If you were a chipmunk, then the only tree you wanted to climb was him.

“Girl,” you said, drawing the word out.

“Girl, what?” Your best friend, Whitley, asked. 

“This motherfucker out here chopping wood on Christmas Eve,” you said. Terry stopped by a week later, finally coming around to chop more wood for the fireplace. You had forgotten all about it, feeling better now that you had an upgraded emergency kit.

But then Terry took off his hoodie, revealing a silver blue T-shirt that really brought out the blue in his eyes. He blamed the storm, criticizing you for not paying more attention to the weather channel.

Um, and miss bingeing Alex Cross for the umpteenth time? Yeah, no thanks. You called him an old man while he grinned and went outside, round to the side. There was a tree stump there and a small pile of chopped firewood. 

Terry took the larger, whole pieces and went to work. Some he cracked in one go, his powerful muscles bunching and contracting with the effort. The axe was decisive, snapping and echoing in the surrounding woods. 

Terry used the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow and you got a front row seat to his abs. 

You moaned into the phone and Whitley grunted. “Girl, uh uh. Put me on video or something. You can’t be moaning like that and I don’t get to see too.”

Fair, she was right. You hurried and put her on video, tilting the phone to look at him through the window. Though he faced forward, he rarely looked up while he worked on the firewood as if it stole something from him.

You bit your lip, needing that same focus while he fucked you stupid. You wanted to be fucked so hard that you forgot your ABCs.

“Oh damn,” Whitley said, moaning with you. 

Lord, he was fine. This so wasn’t fair. Not even in the slightest. “And you ain’t rode that big dawg yet?” Whitley asked.

“Girl, no. Look at him. He would snap my ass in half and then eat my heart on his way out,” you said. 

Terry took a break, lodging the axe in the tree stump. He wiped his forehead with his shirt once more and you and Whitley sighed in appreciation. Wisps of his breath clouded in the air, sunlight shining brightly on Terry. 

“I say this with all the love in my heart. You stupid ho, go ride that man!” Whitley yelled into the phone. Since she was on speaker, you ducked in case Terry looked towards you. He didn’t need to see you being a creeper. 

When you deemed it safe, you slowly stood back up. Terry stretched his thick biceps, causing his shirt to ride up. His belly peeked from underneath, giving you a glimpse of his belly button. You felt no better than an 18th century man but your core was in full agreement. Your clit throbbed, painfully. His tattoos poked out from beneath his short sleeves and you wondered what the story was behind each one. 

“Now what if he looked over here? Now we both looking stupid ‘cause you don’t know how to shut up,” you said. 

Whitley giggled and sighed. Terry picked up the axe and continued chopping. He leaned forward, grabbing a whole piece, and then placed it on the stump. He hefted the axe above his head and let it fall with force behind it, splitting it in two. 

“Got damn. Maybe I need to visit you up there, friend,” Whitley teased.

“Um, no,” you said.

Whitley giggled. “Then if that’s your man, go get him!” 

You grumbled to her, listing off reasons why you absolutely shouldn’t. But night after night, little Laz Alonso wasn’t cutting it. Ever since the bar, ever since the kiss, you hadn’t been able to keep him from your mind.

It was his face that you stroked yourself too. His voice that you moaned to. His eyes that set you off but it was empty. Sure it felt good, but you needed more. You needed the heft of a man on top of you, splitting you open, talking nasty in ya ear.

Spicy audios and a vibrator just didn’t have the same effect. Not when you wanted some body heat. When you wanted the rough scratch of a beard on your skin. Fingers buried to the knuckle. 

“What am I gonna do when he get me addicted to that monster in his pants and I can’t have no more? You really want me out here like a crackhead, begging for dick? You wanna come bail me out of jail because I was banging on his door at 3am?” You asked.

Whitley howled with laughter as you kept going, describing all the ways Terry would have you acting out of character. And you wouldn’t feel a lick of shame about it. You’d stand outside buck ass nekkid in the cold, brutal winter if it meant you’d get to hop on it again. 

“Stop, my stomach hurt! Stop it!” Whitley yelled in between pulls of air. 

You finally giggled with her, eyes still on Terry. The pile of wood next to him grew more and more and you wondered how long he expected this storm to last? Or if he had that little faith in the central heating. 

Terry glanced towards the house and you ducked, heart in your throat. “I think he saw me,” you whispered. 

Whitley giggled and shook her head. “How you gonna explain that one?” She asked. 

“I’ll tell if you if works,” you said. You hung up with her and then grabbed two bottles of water from the pantry. 

You threw on your hoodie and jacket, leaving the house. You slid-walked towards the side of the house, the snow giving way and making you earn it. You huffed as you made it around the side.

Terry stopped chopping and watched you struggle. He lodged the axe into the stump and then placed his hands on his narrow hips. The silver blue T-shirt clung to his body with sweat. If he were to wring it out, you’d bet it’d fill a bucket. 

When you got closer, Terry lifted an eyebrow. “You know chipmunks s’posed to hibernate in the winter,” he said. 

“Oh shut up,” you said, shaking your head. “I saw you struggling so I decided to come give you the break you needed.”

You handed him the bottle of water and then unscrewed your own. “Saw me struggling, huh,” he said, his voice deeper than normal. Or were you imagining it? Fuck. You were losing touch with reality now. 

His eyes slanted towards you as he tilted his head back and gulped down the bottle of water. He didn’t stop for a breath. He kept going, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the action. His bicep could probably crush steel. Veins ran down the length of his arm and saliva pooled in your mouth. 

“That’s a lot of firewood,” you said, your voice unnaturally rough. You cleared your throat and drank your own water. 

You finally figured out how Wesley and Gabrielle meet so the rest of Act 1 flew from your fingers. You made it to the part where they have sex for the first time and Gabrielle would discover that Wesley was an investigator. 

You’d had sex on the brain all day. A little obsessively so considering it was Christmas Eve. So Terry being out here, looking like that and chopping wood like that... It was like a cosmic nudge in the pants to ride him ‘till the cows came home. Your resolve weakened the more you spent in his presence. This was why you needed to stop listening to Whitley’s ass. 

“Want to make sure you’re prepared,” he said, his accent seeping through his words. 

You drank more of your water, shivering as a brutal wind kicked up. “Oh, that’s cold,” you said. Was that the universe telling you to take your ass in the house? Surely, it would be on your side, telling you to keep your eye on the prize and not fuck the incredibly hot handyman. 

The wind blew again, the cold light of the sun disappearing all together. You looked upwards. Clouds rolled across the sky as the temperature dropped ten degrees. “Fuck,” you shivered, rubbing your arms. 

Terry scowled. “The storm’s early. Go get inside,” he said. 

Overhead, trees swayed violently with the gathering wind. “What about the firewood?” You asked.

“I got it,” he said. He waved for you to go ahead of him but you didn’t want to just leave him to do all the work. He moved carefully, heading to the side of the house and grabbed a blue tarp. He jogged to the stump and loaded the tarp with firewood. “Go get inside!” 

“It’ll be faster if I help,” you called back over the wind. 

You ran towards the stack, helping him load it with the firewood he chopped. He scowled but he couldn’t argue with you once you started. In no time, you had it loaded with as much firewood as he could move. 

He pushed you towards the house, pulling on the tarp and dragged it across the snow. Snow flurries kicked up and swirled around you as you ran-slid towards the front door. Terry was hot on your heels, huffing, clouds of breath in front of him. 

You held onto the railing as you jogged up the steps, already knowing Terry wouldn’t want you to help with the wood. He gathered up all four corners and lifted with his knees, carrying the tarp up the stairs like it was nothing. 

You opened the door, the wind doing most of the work. The door banged against the wall and Terry stomped in after and dropped the firewood. “Close the door,” he said and went back outside.

“Wait!” You called after him. He kept walking so you did as he said, closing the door behind him. You had to push against the wind but you finally managed to close it. You looked outside of the window beside the door. 

The snow blew around hard and fast, obscuring visibility minute by minute. You could barely make out Terry’s outline as he ran to his truck and opened the bed. He pulled out a bag and then closed the bed of the truck, locking it behind him. He jogged towards the front door, holding his bare arm up as he did so. 

A second later, he opened the door, entered, and then closed it behind him. He shook himself out, flinging snow across the entrance. “I’ll clean that up,” he said. Water clung to his scruffy beard and plastered his shirt to his body. His nipples poked out and you dragged your eyes away. 

“You need to get in the shower, now,” you said.

“What?” Terry asked and his eyes went wide. 

“The last thing you want to do is get sick. Go warm your body up in the shower. I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer,” you said. Your words sunk in a second later and then you giggled. “I mean, leave your clothes outside the door, obviously.”

Terry smirked, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” he said. He nodded towards the fireplace. “You know how to start that? We should conserve power tonight, just in case.” 

“I agree. But no, still haven’t learned how to start it. You go get in the shower, the heater will be fine for now,” you said. 

Terry looked like he wanted to argue, pinching his lips together. But then he shook his head and took off towards the bathroom. He peeled off his shirt as he went and you bit your lip. 

Sweet fuck, that was not what you meant! Got damn. Your eyes widened as you looked at the dip in his back. The expanse of shoulders. The tattoo on the back of his right arm. Sweet fuck, almighty. 

Terry looked back at you as he went into the bathroom. He ducked to enter and then shut the door behind him. He caught you staring. He so, so caught you staring. A beat later, he opened the door and tossed out his shirt, jeans, and socks. Not his underwear though. Bastard.

You put the items in the dryer and let it run for a cycle. You closed the closet doors on the other side of the kitchen and then started up a kettle. Your fingers tapped on the countertop waiting for the water to finish.

All the while, the shower was loud through the walls. On the other side of it, Terry was showering. He was naked. He was running soap all over that massive, long body. Your panties grew so damp, you wondered if you had enough time to dry them before he got out of the shower.

You needed all the strength you could muster. Because right now, you couldn’t remember a single fucking reason why you couldn’t hop on Terry’s dick. Really, what was the price of heartbreak? A wild ride in the sack? It just may be worth it for Terry Richmond. 

The shower turned off just as the kettle clicked off beside you. You jumped and then closed your eyes. You were an adult. You could keep yourself in check. 

You poured some tea for yourself but you weren’t sure what he drank. You didn’t like beer so you didn’t have any in the house. You weren’t expecting any visitors. 

Wind blew against the window making you jump once more. You were too hyperaware. Too attune with every little noise or screech.

You retrieved his clothes from the dryer and then knocked on the door. Terry opened it a crack and you made sure to keep your eyes on his face. Nowhere south. “Clothes,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said. He opened the door wider and grabbed his clothes from you. His fingers grazed yours and you gasped. He was so soft and warm. Steam poured out the room, fanning across your face. He smelled like your soap and you bit back a moan.

“Yup,” you squeaked and then left him to it. Tea, tea, all you needed was some tea. Some sleepytime tea to do the trick. But you weren’t sure how you were going to sleep with a storm raging outside.

You hated to admit it but your winter getaway turned out to be anything but idyllic. And you had a teensy, smallish, not even worth mentioning fear of storms. It was the bigness of it. The fact that it made you feel so tiny, so insignificant, so aware of your mortality. That nature was the foremost authority and you lived and breathed by its good graces. 

It was an annoying feeling to you as a writer. You created entire worlds at whim. Played with characters like dolls. But you held no such power in real life. 

Terry left the bathroom, his footfalls softer now that he wasn’t wearing boots. Freshly dressed in his warm clothes, he looked younger without his beanie. He sported a mini, curled afro atop his head. It gave him a mountain man sort of look, like he would be at home out there in the woods. 

“Thanks,” he said. 

You nodded. “I wasn’t sure if you were into tea,” you said.

Terry waved you off. “Water is fine,” he said. He moved over towards the living room and opened the tarp on the floor. He knelt on one leg as he worked on stoking a fire to life. The flames gathered traction, flicking orange and yellow light across his features. 

You rolled the bag of tea around a spoon to squeeze excess water out. Then you doctored it how you liked, adding in cold water. You grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the living room as Terry finished with the fireplace.

Terry accepted the bottle, drinking down half of it while he turned off the main heater and sat on the other side of the couch. 

“Looks like we’re having a sleepover. Did you plan this too?” You asked.

“If I were powerful enough to control the weather, I’d use it for more nefarious purposes,” Terry said.

“Like what?” You asked, your curiosity piqued. 

Terry chuckled. “And give up my evil plan? Naw. I ain’t grow up on a chicken farm,” he said.

You laughed and shook your head. “What?” You asked, chuckling more. 

Terry laughed with you. “Chicken Run?” He asked.

“Shut up, you ain’t seen that movie,” you said.

Terry scoffed. “Bet,” he said.

“What’s the young rooster’s name?” You asked.

“Rocky, try again,” he said.

You squinted at him as you thought of your next question. Something only a true fan would know. “Who was the first chicken to go through Mrs. Tweedy’s chicken pie machine?” You asked.

Terry sucked in a breath and widened his eyes. “Okay, tough. But it was Ginger,” he said. 

You looked at him and raised your eyebrows, trying to cast doubt on his answer. He matched your stare, smirk on his lips, and didn’t fold. 

“Okay, fine, you’re right,” you huffed.

Terry laughed and drank the rest of his bottled water. You fell into a comfortable silence, both lost in your thoughts. “I haven’t seen Chicken Run in a while,” Terry said.

“Me neither. We should see if it’s streaming,” you said. You turned on the TV and snuggled under your inside throw blanket. With the heat blowing across your legs, you felt warmer than the heater could ever achieve. 

Before long, you were both laughing at the shenanigans of the claymation movie. You both tossed out quotes, going back and forth about things you noticed in the movie. 

One movie turned to two, throwing on How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It was among your favorite Christmas movies and a perfect distraction against the raging storm outside. The wind knocked harshly against the window every so often, causing your eyes to dart to it and your heart rate to speed up. You hated being such a baby sometimes. 

But, giving yourself grace, storms really could be scary. If it knocked the power out, it could also knock over trees into the house or onto someone’s car. Storms were devastating and of course you’d find them a bit scary. 

Terry scooted closer. “You afraid of storms?” He asked. His voice was like butter melting over a freshly baked biscuit. You hummed and decided to be honest. 

“There’s so many things that could happen in a storm,” you told him. 

He nodded. “I got something to help with that,” he said. 

You turned to him and hummed for him to respond. He scooted closer on the couch, close enough for your shoulder to lean on his. You giggled at his solution. “Stop hugging the throw too,” he murmured and you giggled. 

“This helps storms, huh?” 

Terry nodded. “Hell yeah. Feel better?” 

You pinched your lips together but went on and nodded. “It has its merits.”

As you worked on Wesley and Gabrielle’s relationship, you couldn’t help picturing how Terry would be in a relationship. Would he be the perfect boyfriend? Would he be as annoying as he usually was, always poking at you? 

“Before we get comfortable, we should grab some drinks. I only have tequila or wine,” you said. 

“I’ll take the tequila,” he said, making a face. You laughed and rolled your eyes at him. You got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing your favorite tequila and two shot glasses. You turned off the kitchen light on your way back, bathing the living room in darkness. The flames in the fireplace flickered across the wall, still pumping out delicious heat. 

You poured a shot for each of you, clinked the glasses, and then drank. During the movie, you talked and joked, also quoting this movie back and forth. Terry’s laugh was so adorable and infectious. Was there anything on this man that didn’t scramble your brain? 

He breathed and you were ready to drop your panties and beg for his dick. You were not above begging. But your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. You wanted it too badly but you wrestled with your brain. You shouldn’t but you oh so wanted to.

“Can I confess something?” Terry asked. 

You turned your head to him. You had managed to curl into his side, soaking in the heat of his body. You felt every rise and fall of his chest. You licked your lips and Terry’s eyes drooped down. 

“What is it, Terry?” You asked. 

Terry licked his own lips and you couldn’t resist following the movement with your eyes. His lips were so big, so juicy. 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our kiss,” he said. His voice was so soft, so velvety, that your shoulders dropped and you leaned in. 

“Me neither,” you said. You shook your head. The kiss invaded all of your senses, leading to distraction even when Terry wasn’t there. All week, you caught yourself veering off to replay the kiss over and over again.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment you threatened me with a poker,” he said and smiled. 

Your chest rose and fell in waves, processing what he was saying. “Don’t play with me, Terry Richmond,” you said. You just couldn’t stand it if he were. 

“When you said what you said at the bar, I wondered what kind of man you’d take to bed. And then I started thinking that I wanted to be the only one in your bed,” he said.

Your mouth dropped open. It’s not that you didn’t know you were gorgeous. It’s not that you didn’t think you could pull someone like Terry. It was the fact that he said it so plainly. So openly. So clearly for your brain to not misinterpret his words. You didn’t have to guess with him. And that was one of the sexiest things ever. 

You blinked a few times. “I–”

“And then I started hoping that you’d let me audition,” he said.

“Audition?” You asked. What the hell was he on about? 

Terry grinned and then leaned closer, bringing his large hand to cup your face. His thumb stroked across your cheek. Your eyes slowly blinked closed, your skin tingling where he stroked. His warm breath fanned across your face, smelling faintly like tequila. 

He rubbed his lips against yours but it wasn’t a full kiss. And that made you want it more. You wanted his lips on yours. You would simply die without it. 

“Let me show off my skills. If I do well, you can use me as inspiration for your latest book,” he said.

You giggled, biting the inside of your cheek. “And what do you get out of the arrangement?” You asked.

“You,” he said.

You gasped, staring into his eyes. The low light made his features stand out more. It made his expressions more severe, more striking. You were at a loss for words. This man handed over everything you wanted on a silver platter.

You were so nervous to accept. You had been let down in so many ways by so many men. You had reached a point where you weren’t actively looking for a relationship. You didn’t need some raggedy boy in your phone. 

But Terry was a man. A huge, perfect, wonderful man who got on your last fucking nerve. He always had something smart to say or some new quip to lob at you. But he was also thoughtful. Kind. Funny. Sexy as fucking sin. 

“Are you sure? What if you don’t pass?” You asked.

“Then I’d like to keep trying until you tell me to leave,” he said. He licked your lips and you sighed, ending on a moan. 

“Okay, what will you do for your audition?” You asked. The tequila traveled straight south, making your pussy throb. Your inner thighs tingled even as your breathing increased. 

Terry smirked. He finally crashed his lips to yours, kissing you harshly, brutally. Like he had merely been caged before and you finally set him free. You brought your hands up to his neck, pulling him closer. 

Your moans combined and danced as you leaned closer, pushed harder, kissed back just as fiercely as he did. 

His hands moved underneath your shirt, hands wrapped around your sides, gripping onto your meaty flesh. You moaned, arching your back into him. Terry pulled you closer, made you straddle him. 

An impressive bulge rubbed against your core and you moaned, closing your eyes. Fuck, you were overstimulated already and nothing even happened yet. You knew he had a monster in his pants. You just knew it. 

You made out with Terry like a horny teenager, clashing teeth and biting at each other’s lips. You grinded in his lap, rubbing yourself against him. He groaned, hands lowering to cup your ass. He took two big scoops and squeezed hard, causing you to squeak.

“O-Oh fuck,” you moaned. The pain hurt so good. He kneaded your ass and you dropped your forehead to his shoulder. You moaned low, breathing harshly through your nose. 

“You are so fucking beatiful,” he murmured against your temple. 

“Terry, fuck, I’ve wanted you so bad,” you moaned. 

“Why didn’t you say?” He asked. 

You shook your head. You couldn’t speak. Didn’t want to speak. Your body moved on its own accord, rubbing against his hot erection. 

Terry moved one of his hands to grip your chin and force you to look at him. “Why?” He demanded. 

“You could break me. And that scares me,” you whispered. 

“How do you think I feel?” He asked. “You could rip me apart.” 

You crashed your lips to his, scratched at the nape of his neck. He returned his hand to your ass to squeeze, knead, and mold with his large hands. You moaned into his mouth, needing more friction. 

Terry grabbed you by the waist and pulled you off of him. He made quick work of your jeans, pulled them down your legs, and off in one quick snap. You squealed with laughter, at the physicality of him, yet he still remained sweet and gentle. 

Terry peeled your panties from your body and he groaned. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, his voice one of awe. He slipped your panties off as well, biting your thighs as he pulled, and tossed it over his shoulder. 

Your pussy throbbed looking at the way he stared at the heart of you. The smell of your arousal permeated the air and you moaned, smelling how turned on you were. He pushed at your thighs until they rested against your stomach. 

He blew his breath across your pussy gently. “Oh, shit,” you twitched, hand reaching down to cling to his afro.

Terry groaned and blew once more, lowering his face until he was close enough to lick you from entrance to clit and back again. Your back bucked off of the couch, grinding into his face. 

Terry moaned and wrapped his thick lips around your clit. He suckled sloppily, licking you like a dog with its favorite toy. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you moaned, your stomach caving in and your eyes rolling back. 

His tongue was the sweetest torture of pleasure against your pussy. His drool mixed with your essence, causing his sloppy eating to echo in the living room. “Fuck, that pussy good,” he sputtered against your sopping wet pussy. 

“Oh fuck!” You screamed, your orgasm tearing through you too fast for you to comprehend. You flopped on the couch as your body shook and twisted with pleasure. Terry kept eating, slurping up the latest wave of essence on his tongue.

His beard grew more wet, sliding against your skin. It tickled and you wiggled, trying to move. Terry locked his arms around your thighs, shoving his face further into your pussy. His nose tickled the top of your mound and you groaned and moaned, loving the attention but unable to stand the tickling. 

“Hmmmm,” he moaned, shaking his head. His tongue flicked across your clit without mercy, suckling on the swollen nub. 

“Shit! Shit! Wait! Fuck!” You panted. You were out of breath, hardly able to make any sounds as Terry continued to eat you like a starving man to bread. Your stomach caved in once more, your lungs refusing to work any longer. 

You pushed at his forehead but he kept going. Your eyes rolled backwards, your thighs clenched around his head as another orgasm tore through you, yanking your soul around like a ping pong ball. 

Your pussy clenched and unclenched, wanting attention too. “Fuck me, fuck me,” you begged. You loved that he was a munch, Loved, loved it. But fuck you needed to be filled up. You needed to feel him deep in it. 

“Not done yet,” Terry said. He came up for air, his face shiny with your juices. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, savoring it. When he opened it again, he narrowed his eyes. “Show me those pretty chocolate nipples.” 

Your belly flipped painfully. Pussy throbbed. You lifted your shirt slowly, giving him a slight tease. Your overheated skin tingled with awareness as the cotton shifted across your body. 

You revealed your titties and Terry groaned and rolled his hips into the bed. He winked at you. “Play with them while I eat,” he said. He returned to lapping at your pussy and your thighs squeezed around his face. 

You were too sensitive. You jerked with every flick, every suck, and every glide of his lips. Your thighs shook with passion, tingled, and tensed. But you managed to pinch and roll your nipples, squeezing in time with his licks. “Please, please, Terry, fuck! I can’t!” 

He pushed two fingers inside to pump in and out of your entrance. He wrapped his lips around your clit and used some kind of devil, voodoo magic to create a sucking vortex that had you seeing an entire galaxy behind your eyelids. Your mind flashed with dense clouds of pinks, violets, fiery oranges, and the softest greens. 

You lost all ability to speak as another orgasm was wrung from you. You bowed forward, pushing his head into your clit as you came and came with howls and screams loud enough to wake the dead. 

White and black spots danced in your vision as you suffered through aftershocks, ribbons of pleasure causing your nerves to go haywire. “Fuck, fuck,” you twitched. 

You didn’t have the words nor the presence of mind to process what the hell just happened. You were spent. Put out. Dangle you on the clothesline to air out because you were out of it. 

Terry came up for air with a growl, kissing your inner thighs, then your stomach, then climbed up your body to capture your lips with his own. He smeared your essence all over your face and you locked tongues with him eagerly. 

You tasted too good on his tongue. Smelled too good on his lips. “Did I pass? I get the job?” Terry asked in between kissing you stupid. 

You nodded and licked your lips, tasting more of yourself. “You got it, you got it,” you panted. 

“I don’t have a condom, but–”

“I’m clean and on the pill,” you said. You kept up with that shit religiously, setting an alarm and everything. You were too chicken to try any other methods. 

“I swear I’m clean,” he said, going back to kissing your lips. You moaned, and rubbed against his body. 

“Fuck me,” you whined. 

Terry chuckled. “Keep begging, chipmunk,” he groaned. He managed to continue kissing you while he ditched his jeans and underwear. His jeans dropped to the floor with a loud flop. His shirt went next, his muscles bunching as he lifted it off of him. 

He removed your shirt as well, hands coming around to grab your titties. He pushed them together, lowering his mouth to suck on both nipples at the same time. You jerked and whined, grinding on the couch. 

“Please, Terry, fuck me. Fuck me, I need it. I need your big dick to split me open,” you begged.

Terry groaned and moved his right hand between you. He rubbed his dick up and down your folds, gathering up all the slick he could to coat his dick. He pushed into your entrance and your pussy started talking. 

“Mmm, growl at me,” he moaned. “Fuck.” 

He dipped the head of his dick in and out of you, slowly, your pussy doing more than growling as he toyed with your aching hole. You cried every time his tip stretched you. He was easily the biggest you’d ever taken. 

Terry put his left hand on your chest and moved his right hand up to your clit. This thumb pressed on your clit and a strangled noise burst from your throat. “I need you inside me,” you whined. “Please, please.” Your eyes watered.

You were going to lose your mind in a minute. You would dissolve into a puddle of goo or start barking like a dog if he teased you any more. 

Terry moved his thumb in circles around your clit, causing you to sputter and moan, completely lost to the sensation. “Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Your eyes snapped open to him. To the softest gray and darkest blue of his eyes. His eyebrows curved in a severe arch. The same focus he had while chopping wood, he brought to killing you slowly from the inside out. 

His thumb made your pussy relax enough for him to sink in deeper, further, aided by the fresh slick leaking out of you. If it weren’t for the throw blanket, you were sure you’d have to buy Mr. Omar a brand new couch. 

“So wet. Fuck, you’re gripping my shit tough,” he moaned. He flicked his thumb harder.

You sniffled, tears running down your cheeks. “Please, I can’t. I can’t no more!” You yelled. 

Terry leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You moaned and played with his thick tongue, licked his juicy lips, and gently bit his bottom lip. He moaned. “I say when you’re done,” he said.

“Oh fuck,” you said as you lost all control over your body. Terry pushed all the way down to the hilt with a guttural groan. Veins popped out of his neck as he used you to hold some of his weight. 

His dick throbbed, pulsed in time with his own heartbeat inside you. His dick pushed up against your sweet spot and before long, you were cumming on his dick. 

“Yes, yes, cream this dick. Show me you need that shit,” he moaned. He pulled back until he was almost out and then he shoved back in. He increased his strokes the more he did it, your pussy growling on his dick, while he rolled his hips. 

Your nails scratched at his chest as he moved his hands to either side of your stomach. The couch dipped with his weight as he pounded your pussy, punished her for whatever perceived slight against him. 

“Terry!” You screamed. 

“Scream it, baby,” he moaned. He pounded faster, nothing but wet, nasty smacks echoing in the room. Your pussy welcomed him in easily. He glided and fucked you to within an inch of your life. 

“Why you fucking me like this?” You panted. Your thighs were weak against his hips. He pounded so fast that the hair on his thighs created a slight burn on yours. The burn only seeped into your skin, driving your pleasure through the roof. The next one was gonna kill you. 

“Because you cum so pretty. Give me another,” he demanded. How many was his limit? How many would he pull from you? You were scared to find out. 

Tears ran in tiny rivers down your cheeks. The pleasure was too much. Too big. Too wild. Too uncontrollable and fuck, you greedily wanted more. Your head flopped from side to side. You didn’t have another one in you. You couldn’t give him what wasn’t there.

His head dipped to nip at your chin, your neck, and your breast. He suckled your nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. Like a wilted flower with fresh water, you came back to life. 

Electricity buzzed beneath your skin. Terry slipped out and then slapped his dick against your clit. Your pussy juices squelched and droplets bounced off. “Keep taking this dick like a good girl,” Terry moaned.

“Fuck, yes, Terry. Terry, Terry,” you moaned. 

“Cream that shit, fuck,” Terry moaned.

He fucked another orgasm from you. Your nails dug in hard enough to draw blood as you screamed with pleasure, your voice drowning out the roaring wind outside. Terry stroked three more times before finally releasing his nut.

He bathed your insides with hot, throbbing splashes of his cum. He jerked above you, head lolling from side to side as he rode out his climax. 

You both breathed heavily, bodies slick with sweat from the sex and from the still lit fire. You kissed each other with little pecks, needing air too much to lock lips. “Let me taste,” you said.

“Fuck,” Terry groaned. He slipped out of you carefully. You hissed as his glorious pipe slid out of you completely. His cum gushed out, pushed out by your pussy. You couldn’t stop clenching as you got onto your stomach.

You opened your mouth and looked at Terry. He stood up with one foot on the ground and one knee planted on the couch cushion. You gripped onto his waist and pulled him closer. Without hands, he made his dick jerk to attention, still fully hard. You took him in your mouth and hummed at the mix of your flavors. 

You relaxed your jaw and took him in as far as he wanted to go. You controlled your breathing as he gripped your head. He pushed you onto his dick, making you suckle the full length of him. Not all of it fit, so his dick started to poke against your cheek. 

“Lick it all up for me,” he said. His voice. His voice. He could command you to walk through burning flames and you would if it meant that he slutted you out like this every day from now on. 

You suckled him deep, your eyes never leaving his. You communicated without words that the final chink was in place. You were his. Locked in. Mind to mind. Body to body. Soul to soul. You were his to toy with, play with, his to do whatever he fucking wanted. Because you knew down to your bones that no one else would do it for you. No one else would be able to redefine the meaning of sex for you. 

His stare pulled you deeper and deeper into the pool of his eyes. Your eyes drooped as you let yourself get used. He thrust into your mouth, pulling your throat down on his dick. You gagged a bit and he moaned and jerked his hips. He lessened his strokes but kept up the pace. 

Saliva and his pre-cum mixed in your mouth and dribbled down your chin. Your gawking was loud and disgusting as you sucked him down. 

“You’re fucking perfect. Fucking perfect. Fuck, I’m finna bust,” he groaned, his chest rumbling with a growl.

His entire shaft throbbed as he held your head in place while he spilled down your throat. You swallowed his delicious cum, moaning at his taste. His eyes rolled back and you whined at the image. 

You suckled on his tip like candy and he stuttered with a chuckle. “Okay, okay, okay,” he tapped out, gently pushing at your shoulders. 

You giggled and then sat back and wiped your mouth. “Fuck. What the fuck was that?” You asked. 

Terry grinned. He leaned over, kissed you, and then sat next to you. He pulled you into his side, running his hand up and down your back. Your body felt more than relaxed. Floating on cloud nine in a way that you didn’t know was possible. 

“Ever since we met, I’ve been imagining what I’d do to you,” he said. 

“I love the way your mind works,” you huffed.

Terry chuckled and kissed your temple. “I’m just happy to be of service,” he said.

You tapped his chest. “I can’t stand you,” you said.

Terry rained kisses down the side of your face until he could nibble on your ear. “That wasn’t what you said earlier.”

“I cannot be held accountable for the shit I say while you’re balls deep,” you said, holding up your hand. 

Terry gripped your hand with a chuckle and brought it to his chest. He stared into your eyes and then kissed your hand. Then he moved your hand lower and lower, a grin spreading across his face. Your hand wrapped around his thickening dick. 

“Already?!” You asked. 

He shrugged. “Everything about you turns me the fuck on,” he said. 

Terry made quick work of putting out the fire. Then, he brought you into the shower to ‘clean off’. All he managed to do was haul you against the shower wall and dig into your guts once more, filling you to the brim with his searing hot cum. 

You dried each other off on the way to the bedroom before falling asleep as soon as your face hit the pillow. You smiled as you drifted off, the later half of your book filling in from your imagination. With Terry as inspiration, you had enough material to fill three books. 

The next morning, you were on fire. Well, not literally, but Terry’s body heat ensured you never needed a heater or a throw blanket again.

Feeling you move, Terry woke up and kissed your neck. He was curled behind you, his large arm dropped across your stomach. He was too cute when he first woke up. Eyes blinking open. Licking his lips. Face fussy and scrunched up.

“Hm, good morning to you too,” you said, wiggling your ass against his morning wood. 

Terry chuckled and moved his hand to your waist to still your movements. “Don’t play with me,” he said.

You continued to wiggle your ass. “Well, it is Christmas morning. Don’t I get a present?” You asked.

Terry hummed in your ear. “What kind of present?” He asked.

“You,” you said. 

“It’s my pleasure to serve,” he whispered in your ear before lowering himself in the bed, beneath the covers. Your legs fell open as he adjusted himself in between and went to work, licking and suckling and nibbling around your clit and entrance until you were a ball of putty in his hands.

Incoherent nonsense spilled from your lips as he made you glimpse heaven two times before coming up for air. He kissed you, face shiny once more with your essence. You licked it off of him, licked the corners of his mouth, and suckled his bottom lip. 

Terry groaned, sliding into you with ease. “Nasty ass,” he moaned.

But fuck, he was still so big. So nasty. He pounded into you, giving you long deep strokes. He lowered himself closer to your body so that your nipples rubbed against his chest. 

“You fucking me too good!” You screamed.

Terry moaned and closed his eyes. He placed kisses all over your chest, neck, and lips, keeping pace. He carved a Terry shaped hole in your pussy and in your heart, one that he would only be able to fill. 

“Cum on this dick. Let me feel it,” he begged.

Your moans increased. Like his words were just what you needed. You clenched around his dick and he groaned, hips jerking forward, before you finally gave in and gave him what he wanted. 

“Shit, fuck,” he moaned as he came with you, dick twitching and pulsing. You would never get sick of that feeling. Never, ever, ever. 

“Merry Christmas, chipmunk,” he said, panting for air.

“Merry Christmas, Terry.”

Terry spent the remainder of your stay fucking you into oblivion. Every morning, you woke up with new ideas, new tweaks to make the story better and improve on it. The sex scenes, in your very humble opinion, were the spiciest things you’d ever written. Filthy.

When you shared some snippets with your writing community, they about fell out with gleeful gifs and unhinged keyboard smashing. 

Every night, Terry fulfilled his promise of giving you plenty to work with for your books. He twisted you in more ways than one. Folded you like a pretzel. Moved you in positions you’d never heard of. And each session left you so spent, your brain unplugged for the night. 

On your last day there, you spent it wrapped up in the bed with Terry only coming up for air long enough to snack. And then he’d call you chipmunk or give you The Look. The one where he dipped his chin and his eyes lured you in. 

Then you were kissing, touching, and exploring. Then your hand was wrapped around his dick and his fingers were buried in your pussy to the knuckle. You made it a game on who would cum first. You should’ve known you’d lose that battle. Especially when he commanded that you cum on his fingers with that deep voice and Carolina accent.

He would shove his wet fingers into your mouth so you could taste yourself while he fucked you from behind. Or from the front. Or from the side. 

The side was becoming a favorite because you could look at him while still giving him access to your ass. He would smack it and squeeze it. Then you would hold your ass cheeks apart so he could watch his dick disappear inside you. 

Then he’d make a show of licking his thumb and swirling it around your clit to set you off like a bottle rocket. Then you’d scream and scream his name and beg and beg for him to fill you to the brim one last time. 

Just one last time. You just needed to feel it soaking your walls one last time. Really, the last time. Because you did have to get on the road soon. 

You promised to find a way to spend time together. You weren’t that far from the rental and since he had his own cabin, it wouldn’t be so bad to arrange dates and fuck sessions.

You didn’t know what kind of Christmas miracle this was or who upstairs was looking out for you, but Terry Richmond was the best present ever.

Merry Christmas, my loves! Love ya'll so bad!

The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist:

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

@semi-yah @halfreal-and-halffiction @motheroffae @melaninpov @pinkpantheris

@slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @dreamsinfocus @brattyfics @mermaidchansons

@monaeesstuff @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @charismablu @playgurlxoxo

@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

@steampunkprincess147 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @theblacklewinsky @soft-persephone @notapradagurl7

@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

[penascigarette]

this is every fic I've read since signing up for tumblr less than two weeks ago that has altered my brain chemistry. there are 30 fics on this list and every one is absolutely a banger.

a big thank you to all of you for taking the time out of your days to make ours a little bit brighter ✨️

read the warnings before you indulge in these timeless masterpieces

Acacius

Bloodline - @gutsby

Pairing: Dark!Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: The General needs an heir.

Blood Favor - @pedgito

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Summary: A female gladiator plucked from the arena by the most powerful general in Rome, convinced to serve under his command. You learn that his taste for blood might not be so different from your own.

Home - @milla-frenchy

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x fem reader

Summary: Acacius returns from Numidia several months after his departure, and comes back to his wife

Fit for a goddess - @ozarkthedog

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x afab wife!reader

Summary: you wear Marcus’s gold laurel crown while he worships you.

The Farmers daughter- @punkshort

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Summary: Forced to sell your body after your father's farm went under, you find yourself hand picked to service the Roman army on their latest battle away from Rome. What you didn't expect was to be selected to share General Acacius's room for the duration of the journey.

Cosmic love - @kedsandtubesocks

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

Summary: a missing statue, a handsome ancient roman general, an equally handsome museum visitor - and you caught in the magical (and wonderful) mess of it all

Dave York

Let them feel- @guiltyasdave

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader with a side of whichever Pedro boys you want x f!reader

Summary: sooo... yesterday the lovely em @/luxurychristmaspudding posted this poll with the compelling question in a room full of p boys, who is getting you off (in front of everyone else 👀)?, which led to the lovely daphne @/sizzlingcloudmentality posting let them see (go read that asap!), which then led to me asking "hey do you mind if i continue this?" and then writing 2k words in a state that i can only describe as possessed. enjoy <3

Let them see - @sizzlingcloudmentality

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: he gets you off in front of the other guys

Dieter Bravo

It might be nice - @sp00kymulderr

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Summary: It's more than enough. Having what you have with him now.

Frankie

Blindfolded Birthday - @jolapeno

Pairing: francisco "frankie" morales x ofc!reader

Summary: sometimes, it's necessary to blindfold him and use him.

Javier Peña

Unscripted Desire series - @gothcsz

Pairing: javier peña x f!reader

Summary: you’re a camerawoman that shoots pornos. javier peña is the pornstar you can’t stand. why is it that you’re always so affected by him?

Touch tank- @thundermartini

Pairing: javier peña x f!reader

Summary: Javier helps you get over a little self-confidence crisis.

Dirty laundry - @javierpena-inatacvest

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: After waking up on Sunday morning, you and Javi were supposed to start on your to-do list for the day. It doesn't take long for your to-do list to turn into different plans.

Joel Miller

Me on You - @luxurychristmaspudding

Pairing: young!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: after a night out dancing and a lift home turns into something more, you learn something about your dad's buddy.

Fixation - @mssalo

Pairing: joel x f!reader

Summary: You have an oral fixation, and Joel is more than happy to keep your mouth busy.

Night Walks AU - @toxicanonymity

Pairing: neighbor!Joel x f!reader

Summary: This is an AU moreso than a series. Very little plot. Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed. Turns out he's a little obsessed with you. You find him irresistible, despite your initial efforts to stay away.

Daddy Can Fix It - @baronessvonglitter

Pairing: handyman!Joel Miller x fem!plus size!Reader

Summary: All the housewives in your neighborhood rave about the local handyman. And with very good reason.

Tink - @notjustjavierpena

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Summary: You leave a Halloween party to go see Joel but it turns into a horror show when conversation between you takes a poor turn.

Golden - @slowdivinqs

Pairing: Joel x reader

Summary: A Sunday afternoon on your farm with Joel.

Lovers Once a Year - @joelsgoldrush

Pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: One always craves what is out of reach. Like the forbidden fruit that lingers just beyond grasp, tempting with its sweetness. Joel became the town’s greatest sinner, and you, his best friend’s daughter, are the tantalizing temptation he knows he should never indulge in. Your very existence marks the path to his ruin. He can't help but follow it.

Road trip - @elflutter

Pairing: bf!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: car sex with joel on the way home from a weekend trip ;)

Halftime - @gutsby

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: A chance meeting a week before Thanksgiving leaves you and your dad’s best friend to handle your feelings the only way you know how: fucking on the couch when your dad falls asleep during the game.

Heartbreak Detergent- @tokkiwrites

Pairing: boyfriend's dad joel miller x reader

Summary: After breaking up with your boyfriend of four years, you’re left heartbroken and desperate to leave it all behind. But as fate would have it, just as you’re about to walk out the door of his house, you run into his fatherㅡ the man who’s always lingered at the edges of your mind. the next sensible thing to do is fuck him.

Someone to be thankful for - @pedrospatch

Pairing: DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

See You At Three - @almostfoxglove

Pairing: Young!Joel x f!Reader OC (Ellie's aunt)

Summary: When your sister starts working nights, you're stuck with afterschool pickup duty for your eight-year-old niece. You love the kid, so you don't mind. And, sure—maybe you don't mind having an excuse to check out her classmate's dad, Joel, five times a week, either.

Put it in, coach - @magpiepills

Pairing: Joel Miller x f! Reader

Summary: you are an 18 year old high school senior on the cheerleading team, and Joel is the beloved and successful football coach. He helps you with some stretching after practice.

Vicious- @joelmillerisapunk

Pairing: dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

Summary: In the quiet solitude of your own home, you revel in the rare freedom of an empty house, indulging in forbidden pleasures on a hot summer day. The unexpected arrival of your dads buddy Joel turns your casual rebellion into something far more thrilling.

Pretty baby - @mrsmando

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Summary: working as a nanny for joel miller is about to get a whole lot more interesting.

Juno - @lotusbxtch

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Your honeymoon with Joel is off to a bang.

Roadside - @toomanystoriessolittletime

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Summary: On your way back from a long weekend that you got to spent with Joel, his car breaks down. While you both waited for Tommy to get there to help, Joel has some ideas on how to spend the time waiting.

Difficult - @schnarfer

Pairing: Young!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: How can you be part of a love story when you don’t believe in love?

Things I wrote

Smooth Operator Series

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!phone sex worker

Summary: You unexpectedly find yourself drawn to a new client during a late-night call, who ignites a surprising wave of desire within you. As you engage in a steamy conversation, you realize this encounter is unlike any you've had before, leaving you eager for more and questioning the boundaries of your professional life.

[dragon-kazansky]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Ten - Our two hearts

☆☆☆

You stand beside Dream while he fixes up some more lf his realm. He had mended quite a lot of it over the last few days, and the residents were starting to return. You had been introduced to many of them by Lucienne.

Dream had chosen this as a good place to start teaching you about the power he has given you.

He was creating more dreams and nightmares, but it was a slow process. It took a lot of concentration from him to do this. He explained everything to you as he worked, but it was still a lot to take in all at once.

He could see at one point that you were growing weary and came to stand in front of you. "Hold out your hand."

You look at him and then hold out your hand. He takes your hand gently in his, cupping it in his palm. His skin is pale against yours. He looks at you with a small smile. You feel something soft in the palm of your hand and look to see something beginning to take shape. A stem. Long and green, full of life. A bud began to take form. Pale pink petals began to bloom. He lets go of your hand as you look at the flower in your hand.

"You made that."

"What?" You look at him.

"I helped, but you made it." He smiles softly. "I didn't even tell you what to make, you did that all yourself. In fact, you have given me an idea."

"Um... what kind of idea?" You ask, looking up at him.

"I want to give you a gift."

You stare at him, hoping he will elaborate, but he doesn't. He just gives you a little grin and then returns back to his work on the dreams and nightmares.

You look at the flower in your hand and bring it to your nose. It smells heavenly. You smile.

☆☆☆

You walk through the palace with Matthew as your guide. Lucienne had called Dream to speak with him privately about something. He told you he would join you again later, so Matthew brought you back to the palace.

You were still holding your flower, admiring it. They way it smelled, the way it looked, the way it felt. You had made this very special little flower.

"Uh, your room is this way." Matthew caws.

You look up and see that you had stopped paying attention and were now veering away from your location.

"Oh, sorry."

You turn around and follow Matthew down the correct hall. You return to your room. Matthew perches on the end of your bed and watches you put your flower in a vase next to your bed.

"You made that?"

"Yes." You smile. "Isn't it pretty?"

You take a seat on your bed and turn to Matthew. He looks up at you with those big black eyes of his.

"Is he a good man?" You ask.

"Who? Dream? To be honest, I haven't known him that long. You should ask Lucienne, though. She's known him a long time." He cocks his head from side to side every so often. "But I think so, yeah."

You smile softly.

"So, are you two married?" He asks.

"What? No! I've known literally days." You look shocked by his question. "Haven't you been following us around all that time?"

"Well, yeah, but... you two seem kind of close."

"Do we?"

"Well, I've seen the way he's been looking at you recently." Matthew tells you that so causally.

"Oh? How does he look at me?"

Matthew is about to tell you, but someone comes into your room unannounced. You look up to find what looks like a scarecrow with a pumpkin for a head. He turns and sees you and then stares at you.

"Oh, uh, I wasn't aware you were in here, lady."

"Merv!" Matthew caws.

"Oh, right, um. Mervyn, at your service."

"Hello," you greet him.

"He's kind of the handyman around here. Which brings the question, what are you doing in here?" Matthew looks up at Merv.

"Uh, well, you see, his highness is working on something, and asked me to come see what kind of things you like. I just didn't think you were in here. Thought I'd coke snoop through your stuff and get some ideas..."

You chuckle softly and look at him. "You came to snoop?"

"Yeah..."

"That's considered rude. Why not just ask me?"

"Uh... I don't know."

You laugh and stand up. "What do you want to know?"

The next fifteen minutes were spent in a game of 20 questions. Mervyn asked you about your favourite colours, favourite animals, favourite flowers, favourite music, favourite foods, what you liked to wear, what you liked to do.

You told him everything.

He was doing this because Dream had asked him to. You were certain if he wasn't so busy with whatever it is Lucienne needed him for, he would have come to ask you all this himself. It made you feel warm inside.

Once Merv had all the answers he needed, he left. You chuckled as he went.

"You'll get used to him." Matthew said to you.

"I'm sure."

"So, you are staying?"

"I am." You smiled. "The Dreaming is my home now."

☆☆☆

Dream sat on his throne with a thoughtful expression on his face. In his lap was a big red book with your name on it. It contained your life history. Lucienne had brought it to him and stated he should read it.

He saw your childhood on these pages. He saw everything Rodrick Burgess did to you. More the lack of what he did for you. His only daughter cast aside. It infuriated Dream how poorly you were treated by that family. Now you were safe within his realm.

Also in the book was the moment you both met. He looks down at the scar as he reads that part. His soulmate. There was hope in his heart that you would see him differently in the future.

He certainly saw you in a different light.

Dream hoped his gift would be the first step to winning you over. He had concluded business with Lucienne ages ago and then gone to start on your gift. However, he was curious to read what was in your book, so here he was.

As he nears the part where he took you away, he heard footsteps entering the grand throne room. He lifted his eyes from the page he was on and found you walking over to him.

His heart skipped a beat.

Dream closed the book and put it down carefully to the side. He stood and made his way down the steps to meet you halfway. He was pleased to see you.

"Hello," he greeted you softly.

"Hello." You smiled. "Have you been busy?"

"Quite."

There was a slight eagerness to him. You could see it in his eyes and his smile as he stood there in front of you. He almost, almost, childlike.

"What's up with you?" You ask softly.

"Why should anything be up with me?" He asks, smiling.

"Because you're smiling. You don't exactly do that." You pointed out.

"Oh?"

You roll your eyes. "Just tell me."

"Come with me." He starts to walk away. You follow him, trying to keep up with his lkng strides. Wherever he was taking you, he was determined to get there quickly.

He led you out of the palace round the back. You had gone past your room, and down a hall, you were certain hadn't been there before. He took you through a door that led outside into a courtyard. Around the courtyard were empty flowers beds. In the centre was a fountain. Opposite the door, you came out of was an arch covered in flowers that led to more flowerbeds.

You look around you. "What's this?"

"Your garden."

You snap your head towards him and state at him in confusion. "My garden?"

He looks at you in amusement. "Yes."

"What do you mean my garden?"

"Exactly that. I've made you a garden," he says proudly.

"When did you have time to do this?" You knew it took a while for him to build his residents in the Dreaming, so a whole garden would have taken hours, you're certain.

"I can create places quite easily. A garden was simple enough. Once Lucienne left my side, I began this for you."

"You have gifted me a garden?"

"Yes."

You take another look around and smile softly. No one has ever given you something so wonderful before.

"Where are the flowers?" You ask softly.

"Ah, well, that's your job," he states.

"My job?"

Dream guides you over to the closest flowerbed and looks down at the rich soil below. He gestures to it with one hand as he raises his eyes to look at you. "You grew one flower with a little bit of help, so I figured gifting you a garden to practise in would help you."

You look at him on awe. "You did this for me?"

"Of course."

"You didn't have to," you say softly.

"I wanted to."

You feel your heart skip. A warmth settles in your chest. He did this for you. He made this gift for you.

"Thank you."

He smiles at you. His blue eyes seem to brighten. He's certainly handsome. You smile.

"I'll practise. I promise. No more gifts, though. You've given me enough."

He chuckles deeply. "No promises."

You can't help but chuckle, too.

Dream leaves you in your garden to tend to other matters for a while. You're kind of glad because you had a lot to think about. You had him to think about.

Suddenly, everything felt like it was in a new light, and you needed to know what it meant.

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @star-maker-rain-dancer - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi - @sloppyzengarden - @thecraziestcrayon -

[piastrinorris]

Cheers to the Weekend

Pairing: Tom Grant x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), pillow humping, cmnf (clothed male, naked female)

Summary: You and your boyfriend discuss what to do with your weekend off together.

Word count: 3k

"Babe, I'm here!" Your most favourite words. You jump up from where you'd been sprawled across the couch, running all of about five feet before being able to embrace your boyfriend. He buries his face into your shoulder, humming happily.

"You alright?" You ask as you let go, reaching over to gently intertwine your fingers with his instead.

"'M very tired," he admits with a sleepy smile. "How was your shift?"

"My cheeks hurt from all the customer-service-smiling I've been doing," you admit with a grimace. "Still, that family's the weekend staff's problem now."

"Yep, and now your only problem this weekend is having your annoyingly doting boyfriend constantly wanting to snuggle with you, watch TV with you, maybe go for a little walk on the beach with you…" Tom's head cocks from side to side as he lists off activities.

"That sounds like the opposite of a problem, actually," you grin at him, pulling him in for a kiss. He kisses you back, starting with little pecks that gradually linger more, getting more and more intense with each one, pulling you into the bedroom.

He pulls back with one final chaste kiss. "So, what was that family's deal?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the mattress to start unlacing his boots.

Getting yourself comfortable on the bed, you sigh loudly, "Mum was trying to find every excuse to get free stuff while her kid emptied all the soil out of Fergus' pot onto the floor. "

Tom lets out a sharp gasp as he tugs one shoe off, "Not Fergus the ficus! That's murder!" You laugh, and he smiles over at you adoringly. "See, this is why I couldn't do your job, I'd have told them all to piss off and made that kid scoop it all back in," he shakes his head as he kicks off the other shoe. He flops onto the bed on his stomach, groaning into the pillow. The way his face squishes into it makes you laugh again. "Ugh, was your bed always this comfortable, or is it just the day I've had?"

"It's definitely just you," you point out amusedly, laying on your side and propping yourself up by your elbow. "I could never do your job, either. Big, strong handyman, slaving away at that workshop, carrying all those big, heavy things…"

Tom laughs as he pushes himself up. "Y'give me far too much credit, angel."

You soon fall into your natural position in bed; Tom's arm wrapped around you, his fingers rubbing up and down the top of your arm, your head against his chest, his heart thumping against your cheekbone. It isn't long, though, before he squeezes your shoulder in a way you know means that he wants you to lean up so he can kiss you some more. Tom hums, "Really missed you today."

"Missed you, too, Tommy," you purr between kisses.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you," Tom admits, and you grin.

"Oh, yeah? What about me?"

"Just, y’know. Thinking about all the stuff we can do this weekend, all those things I were just saying about," he muses.

You grin coyly, "And nothing else?"

He rolls his eyes and tuts jokingly. "Yes, yes, and that stuff, too, horndog."

"What?" You giggle. "You're the one thinking about that stuff at work."

"Oh, and you're not?" Tom asks you in disbelief.

"...I didn't say that," you tease, moving over to straddle him.

"Oh, hello," he grins at the change of position, his hands running up and down the sides of your body, wrapping his arms around your back once you lean down to kiss him intensely, hips grinding down against his. He hums against your lips, "Mmm, somebody's eager, aren't they?"

"No shit, look at you," you grin back before kissing him again, your tongues engaging in a twisting dance of passion, accompanied by the harmony of you both moaning together.

"Fuck, yes, sweets, y'feel so good like that," Tom groans. "Keep making those sounds, yeah? Please, s'fucking hot." You move just slightly to moan deliberately into his ear, and his grip on you tightens. "Mmm, is this what you've been thinking about all day, love? Counting down the minutes until you could ravish me?"

With a sheepish giggle, you lie, "No…"

"Certainly seems like it," he raises his eyebrows at you as you sit upright, rocking yourself in circles against the erection you feel pressing through his tracksuit bottoms. He bites his lip tightly as he watches you, his hands slipping underneath your pyjama top to squeeze your hips, digging his grip in. He groans, "Want this off, want to see my fingers press into you."

"Is that all you want to see from me being topless?" You mimic his tone from earlier, and Tom laughs as he helps you pull the garment off of your body. He constantly slides his hands up and down your body, stopping each way to grip your breasts and your hips. Every squeeze earns him an evermore desperate buck of your hips.

Tom smiles dreamily up at you. "'M never gonna get tired of this view, pretty girl. My pretty girl."

You hope your, "'M not," is muttered quietly enough for Tom not to hear it, but no such luck.

"Uh, excuse you, you're fucking gorgeous, babe. 'M a lucky, lucky boy," he smirks, pulling your face down to kiss you again. He gasps out a moan against your lips, "And the way you're humping me like that, fuck, so good. Make me feel so good, looking like that, 've hit the jackpot, me. Fuck, is that good for you, too, yeah?"

You play with the collar of his shirt. "Please, Tommy… Wanna really make you feel good."

He groans again, this time out of exhaustion. "Listen, babe, literally any other time, you know I'd have my clothes off at that in an instant, but… 'M just so tired tonight, angel. I'm sorry."

"I could just ride you?" You offer, and he chuckles, rubbing his face wearily.

"You know I don't like just sitting there and letting you do all the work," he frowns up at you.

You mirror him, "And yet you'll spend the best part of an hour going down on me without expecting anything back?"

He pulls a face of intrigue. "What a wonderful idea." Before you can react, he wraps an arm and a leg around you, swinging his whole body around to roll you onto your back, as he hovers over you.

You giggle, "What happened to being tired, eh?"

"That was my last bit of energy," he grins back. "Well, almost. Think I've got just about enough to get these off you." He hooks his fingers over the elastic of your shorts, pulling them down your legs before settling himself between them. "There she is," he coos under his breath, his fingertips tracing the outside of your folds. "I've especially missed you."

You groan, "Tommy… 'S not faaaair."

"What isn't, angel?" he asks, sliding his middle finger inside of you with ease. You gasp out a long moan, your eyes unfocusing, and he grins up at the sight of you.

“Wanna make you feel good, too,” you whine.

He tuts, shaking his head. “Now, now. Sulking in’t gonna get you anywhere, is it?” He pulls his finger almost completely out of you before sinking it back in again quicker. You thrash your fists against the mattress and he breathes out a soft laugh. “What did I just say, sweets?” he asks in the same soft tone as before.

“Not sulking,” you pout. “Just wanna - wanna touch you and taste you and fu- Fuck, Tommy, I really wanna fuck you, please,” you plead as he adds another finger.

He does climb up your body, still working your core with one hand, to silently kiss you. His motions get far more rapid, moving in and out of you until his fingers are so slick with your juices that they just slip out of you, to which he then starts rubbing your clit at the same speed. Your cries of pleasure come out as muted vibrations against his lips, and you don’t realise him taking the pillow next to you and pulling it back down with him even as he breaks away. You blink your heavy-lidded eyes over and over, watching the imaginary spots that shower your field of vision slowly dissipate. 

“Plenty of time for that, love,” he soothes once he’s settled back down where he wants to be. “But right now, I fucking need your thighs around me.” His palms slide up and down the inner sides of your legs as a gentle prompt, and you comply, crossing your ankles loosely between his shoulder blades. He sighs contentedly. “So soft…” He shuffles into position to press a kiss to your clit, his hands wrapping around the flesh of your thighs to hold them in place. “So warm…” you hear him from the cave he’s made for himself between your legs as you feel him nuzzle his way further down to your core. “Perfect.” 

His tongue works as tenderly as it would if he were kissing you, gently poking its way through your folds and sliding through. Your fingers card through his curls as his head turns, this way and that, as he plays you like an instrument, eliciting different noises from you with every motion. Your legs twitch, instinctively squeezing together around his head, and he moans delightfully, pushing down on your thighs to tighten their hold on his head even more. He snakes his tongue inside of you, extending it to its stiffest, most pointed length as he bobs his head back and forth to fuck you with it.

Your legs wrap tighter still around him, and you feel his grip slip around to your ass cheeks to grip them roughly. The sensation of his fingernails digging into your supple flesh have you crying out in pleasure, which you can tell from his moans is turning him on insanely quickly.

But, with your thighs in a vice around him, it gets harder for you to grab his hair, make a mess of his curls so that when he resurfaces, it's obvious for the rest of the day what he's been up to. You don't get to look into those dark, rich eyes of his that caramelise when the sun sets just right through the window.

You pout, "Tommy…" as you relax your thighs, pulling them slightly away from him.

"Everything alright, sweets?" He asks with concern.

You continue in the same tone, "Miss your face."

With a soft laugh, he kneels up slightly, your heels naturally sliding off of his shoulder blades as he does. "Of course, angel, 'm sorry." He pushes your legs wide open, looking down adoringly at your glistening folds. "Such a perfect, pretty thing, isn't she?" he smiles, running the pad of his finger along them. Placing his hands just within the crooks of your legs, he gently pushes outward, spreading you even wider. He marvels at the sight in front of him studiously, his eyes darting around until he places another, calculated, kiss down between your legs, his lips and tongue working in ways no form of self-pleasure could ever replicate. 

His eyes flutter shut as he flicks his tongue in all kinds of formations: he lays it flat against you as he licks along your folds from the bottom up; he gently traces the insides of your lips with the tip; he waggles his tongue back and forth, at a speed your eyes can barely keep up with, as it works your clit from every angle he can move his head to reach. Every sound of pleasure you make is harmonised by his humming against you.

As you melt against him, warm brown eyes flicker up to look at you through his eyelashes as he starts suckling on your clit. All you can see of him are his curls, now wildly spread out thanks to your handiwork, his eyes and his nose, but with just those alone, his expression tells you how much he adores you. The way his brow softly knits together, the glint in his eye, it makes you feel like a goddess that he's obsessed with worshipping. 

You cry out, "Fuck, Tom… Feel… So good, 'm gonna -" The rest of your sentence is swallowed in a high-pitched whine as you feel the first pang of your crescendo forming.

Tom groans against you, pulling away just to tell you, "Perfect timing as always, angel, this has been turning me on like mad, wanna make you cum so badly."

You whimper, "Please… Want yours, too, Tommy."

He tuts, shaking his head. "No time, sweets. Think you coming on my face is exactly what I need to get off, too." Before you can answer back, he resumes suckling on your clit, burying two fingers inside of you and working them at the same speed he had earlier, until you're seeing those spots again. "So fucking gorgeous when you're all fucked out, babe," he croons. "C'mon, be a good girl and come all over me."

As you let your orgasm take full control over your body, he stops fingering you to immediately get his tongue in there, cleaning you up as you cream all over his mouth for what feels like eternity. His look changes as he devours you, one you recognise as his own orgasmic expression. You notice a little movement in the corner of your eye, and prop yourself up on your elbow to investigate.

You'd not even noticed you were a pillow short, let alone that he had slid his tracksuit bottoms to his knees to fold the pillow between his thighs, humping it as erratically as he'd move if he were coming. You let out a small, disappointed whimper. "Y'didn't need to use a pillow, 'm right here."

"Can't eat you out and cum inside you at the same time, sweets," he points out with a smirk, his whole body looking on the verge of giving up all movement as he slides back up to be eye-level with you.

"I could've sat on your face and sucked you off at the same time," you retaliate in a similar tone, and he chuckles.

"Nah, needed that. To just make my girl forget that anything else exists for a bit. Helps me feel the same, too," he explains, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "S'pose I should clean up what's in these boxers, though, eh?"

"Is it weird that it actually turns me on, knowing you came in your pants over me?" You ask as he heads into the bathroom, and half his laughter gets drowned out by the sound of running water. As he's cleaning himself up, you notice the discarded pillow and start rearranging the others until the one he'd been humping is beneath your head.

As he returns, he looks quizzically at the bottom of the bed, pointing to where the pillow had been. You bury half your face into it, smiling coyly as you look over at him, and he bites his lip. "Speaking of things that weirdly turn y'on, that's so doing it for me," he groans under his breath as he sits on the corner of the bed and reaches again for his shoes.

You frown, "Where you off to?"

"We have to eat at some stage, horndog," he teases, leaning over to tap your nose playfully.

"What are you gonna go and get, then?" You ask as he puts on his second boot.

"Thinking that Chinese place just outside of here, it's never that long of a wait," he shrugs, and you hum happily as you redress yourself in your pyjamas, opting to stay sitting up on your bed as he gets up.

"Sounds good to me. Could I have a -" Tom interrupts you by reciting your order exactly as he walks towards the door. Feeling nothing but the pure ecstacy of being around someone who remembers even the littlest details, you mindlessly call back to him, "You're the best! Love you!"

Your little bubble of contentment pops when you realise what you've said. How it's the first time you've said it. And it's just on a throwaway goodbye on his way to get a takeaway. He rushes the few paces it takes to get back to your bedroom to look at you, his expression tough to read, and say, "Say that again." You start to fluster, unsure how you can potentially backtrack from here, but he kneels one leg back onto your bed, leaning over to cradle your cheek in his hand. "Please. Say it properly, to my face," he pleads softly.

Grinning widely, you place your hand over his and look him dead in the eyes as he gives you that worshipping gaze all over again. "I love you, Tommy." A surprised chirp escapes the back of your throat as he tackles you back down onto the bed, furiously kissing your lips over and over and over again, and you laugh against him. "What happened to getting food, horndog? Now you've made me hungry!"

"'M not doing this to fuck ya, 'm doing this 'cause I love ya," he mutters as he kisses your neck. You lay back and revel in how good it feels until your stomach betrays you, growling loudly. The breath from Tom's laugh tickles your neck as he slides down to pull your pyjama top up enough to expose your tummy so he can kiss it. "Alright, message received, loud and clear, boss," he says directly to it before climbing off the bed. You giggle as you readjust your top, and he looks at you softly. "I do love you, y'know."

"If you did, you wouldn't keep me starving here, now, would you?" You tease, falling apart with laughter once more as he bolts out of the door. You head back to where the sofa is - where you'd left your phone - and send him a text: I love you, too, btw. 😘

[enriquemzn262]

As far as decent seasonal anime goes, have you checked out Handyman Saitou in Another World? Not an Isekai fan usually but I liked the concept and characters. Reborn to Master the Blade (fantasy, not Isekai) is a lot better than I expected. There's some fan service, but it delivers on strong female characters. Not sure if you've seen any of Vinland Saga, but season 2 is another one of my favs airing. It's less action than the first season though.

I’ve seen enough “weak characters with one actually overpowered ability” stories to have 0 interest in the handyman one.

The Master one I haven’t even heard about, might check it out.

As for Vinland, not gonna lie, I have exactly 0 interest in vikings, so I don’t even acknowledge it existence, I might someday, but eh, don’t keep your hopes up.

[uncloseted]

i've been thinking about your ig stories because there's been a debate lately on my twitter timeline because a girl said that "no one talks about the awkward moment when you're a woman living alone and you have to call an internet technician and you're alone with two men in your apartment". some people agree with her but some say she's exaggerating and that she's making women seem like immature idiots, and that she's classist because they're always afraid of electricians and plumbers and never

doctors or lawyers. but we are afraid of doctors. i am an adult and i almost had to go to the traumatologist with my dad because he heard that he touched his patients in weird ways

I think both can be true. Inviting unknown people into your home does increase danger, however slightly, and people can feel truly threatened even if no threat is actually present, and the system that created that perception of fear can be classist or racist. A lot of the time, it really is a mix of all three. We can know intellectually that the internet technician probably isn't a threat, while also being aware that inviting any unknown person into our home is a little bit of a threat, and while being aware that the reason we feel that way is mostly because we've been fed racist or classist stories for our entire lives about women who die at the hands of home service people. And we can recognize that those automatic reactions are really hardwired and hard to get rid of, even though intellectually we know other people are greater threats than home service people are.

For the sake of it, because you all know how much I like statistics, let's look at what the numbers say about this:

Over half of women have experienced sexual violence involving physical contact during their lifetimes. One in 4 women have experienced completed or attempted rape. On average, there are 463,634 victims (age 12 or older) of rape and sexual assault each year in the United States. That is legitimately a huge problem, and it's one that we should be taking seriously.

However, about half (51.1%) of female victims of rape reported being raped by an intimate partner and 40.8% by an acquaintance. About 7% of assaults are perpetrated by a relative of the victim. About 5.6% of women reported some type of sexual violence by a workplace-related perpetrator, and 0.8% have been raped by a workplace-related perpetrator.

So that means that 426,543 women experience rape or sexual assault perpetrated by someone they know (about 0.28% of all women in the US or about 1 in 400). Only about 37,091 women each year experience rape or sexual assault perpetrated by a stranger (about 0.02% of all women in the US or 1 in 5,000).

Of that 37,091, I couldn't find a lot of good data about who the perpetrators were in terms of whether or not they were home service people, but I did find that about 55% of assaults are at or near the victim's home. If we take that to be true regardless of the victim's relationship to the perpetrator (just for simplicity's sake, because I couldn't find more specific data than this), that's about 20,400 women who would have been sexually assaulted in their own home by a stranger such as a handyman or internet technician or a random home invader (0.012% of all women in the US, or about 1 in 10,000). That's about the same odds of being injured by a toilet, dying of being hit by a car while walking, or dying in a mass shooting. Not nothing, but definitely not very common, either.

And like I said before, that's still a lot, and it's still a big problem. But centering those incidents of sexual assault by a stranger in their home means that we're decentering the 443,234 women who are assaulted by someone they know, and we're not doing a whole lot to protect them. It's kind of like if our entire culture was focused on preventing Japanese Encephalitis while ignoring Lyme disease- Japanese Encephalitis is definitely a problem, but way more people get Lyme Disease every year, and it's important to pay attention to it and to reduce the problem because it's what's causing the majority of the suffering.

Plus, by culturally shifting the focus off of women who have experienced sexual assault perpetrated by someone they know to women who experience sexual assault by a stranger, we're creating a couple of implicit narratives: that sexual assault can be prevented if the person just has the right training or tools, that women should be vigilant at all times, lest they be taken by surprise, and- this is the most problematic one- that if women are assaulted by someone they don't know, it's because they weren't being careful enough. In some ways, it's a version of, "she shouldn't have been wearing such a short skirt," or "she shouldn't have led him on" wrapped up in the language of caring. It creates a culture of fear that, in itself, prevents women from fully participating in public life, and I think that's dangerous.

And like I was saying on my stories, this is a convenient narrative because it means that people can think of perpetrators of sexual assault as the "other", not as someone that they know. And this is where things like racism and classism come in. It's much easier for someone to imagine that the perpetrators of sexual assault are a different race or social class to them than it is for them to imagine it might be their brother, friend, boyfriend, father, etc. And if it's some "monster" that just jumps out of the shadows, they don't have to consider how the actions of the men around them might be impacting other women. Nobody wants to believe that a guy they know has committed a sexual assault, and I think that cognitive dissonance is what makes this narrative so inviting.

But that also means that we can't effectively combat the majority of the problem. Like with other types of crime, combating sexual assault is complicated and requires a multi-faceted approach that requires us to have robust educational programs, create strong social networks, and have frank discussions with the men in our lives about consent and misogyny, among other things. Poor coping skills, low self-esteem, difficulty establishing and/or maintaining appropriate intimate relationships, a chaotic, unstable, or violent home environment, and difficulty developing meaningful peer networks are all risk factors for a person becoming a sexual offender. For example, prevention programs like The Men's Program or One in Four, that focus on empathy toward rape survivors and intervention of sexual assault situations, found that participants committed 40% fewer acts of sexually coercive behavior. It's a long road, and it's one that's largely an uphill battle, but I think these types of programs and interventions don't get nearly the attention they deserve, especially by people who purport to care about women's safety.

I want to be clear, I'm not saying that taking precautions is a bad idea. It's a good idea to have an alarm that you carry around on your keychain, and to lock your doors and windows, and to vet anyone who comes into your house to do work or who preforms a service for you, and to trust your instinct if you have a technician or an Uber driver who's giving off a weird vibe. Rather, I'm just trying to say that it's also important to vet the people who are closest to you, and it's important to make sure that the precautions we're taking are proportional to the actual level of risk we're in.

People capitalize on outrage and fear, and it's important not to let them turn your world into a scarier place than it actually is. This is a little bit of a rambly post, so I apologize for that. But I guess what I'm trying to get at is that I think most people are really just trying their best with the tools that they're given, and I don't want us to lose sight of that in the name of safety. We need to band together as a community instead of becoming more and more distrustful of the people we come across, for our own sakes and for the sake of society at large. And the kinds of videos that I was talking about on my stories are actively working against that goal. They're reinventing "Stranger Danger" for adult women, and I think that will be as detrimental for women as it was for children who grew up during the "Stranger Danger" era.

[sevketbuyukakcay]

Name: Sevket Büyükakçay

Age: 29

Face Claim: Emre Bey

Hometown: HMB,California

Occupation: Owner of Sev’s Handy Services -

Neighborhood: Montara 

Gender & Preferred Pronouns: cismale // he & him

Birthday: August 19, 1994 

Sign : Leo 

Status: Single

born and raised in half moon bay sevket came from a small little family. his mother a stay at home mom and his father owning his own handyman services known around town. it wasnt much money and the family got by with what they needed. however regardless of never being rich sev was always a happy child. the boy never once complained about not having the newest shoes and gaming toys. he was rich in family and both his parents had loved and spent lots of time with him that was good enough for him.

through high school sevket kept mostly to himself. he enjoyed spending time in the library and loved spending time with evie. evie and him had became the best of friends in grade school and all through high school he had grown closer and closer to the female she truly was really the only one he had confided in. when he was a freshman his fathers work had slowed down which causes the family to hit even harder times. this resulted in sevket spending a lot more time with evie from time to time to avoid the fighting it caused at home. when tenth grade rolled around his fathers business had picked up and was better than ever. the fighting between his parents had stopped or at least he had thought.

a slow burn love sev thought he had with evie and the two had finally started dating his junior year. he had felt like everything in his life was going perfect. yet over the years the two had dated something had just felt off.. sure savket had loved evie however it didnt feel like that romantic type of love. yet he clung to it.

when sev had turned 18 and graduated his father and mother had broke the news that they were getting a divorce. sevket world was crushed thinking his family had this perfect marriage that could survive anything. it was a slap to the face but it only made sev cling to the perfect happy imagine of what a marriage should be. upon graduating despite that odd feeling with ev he instantly started bothering her her to marry him. he was determined to prove to his parents that love could concur all and nothing would break up true love. yet true intimate love was certainly something that ev and sevket were missing. sev ignored it and continued on with the engagement even though it certainly felt like more two friends living together.

sevket had skipped out on college and worked along side with his father with his handyman business. by ev's sophomore year of college that perfect idea of marraige had fallen apart with his fiancée' . when she had confessed that she had cheated sevket was still persistent on making it work. yet as the two had tried to work through it all it had just made more sense that there never was romantic love within their partnership. it never was truly anything slowburn. evie was his soulmate.. but she was his soulmate in a strictly platonic way. of course he had been a little upset she had cheated only because she hadnt talk to him first he had understood and could never hate or blame the woman. she was still perfect in his eyes and would always be.

as she left for london he had focused on his own life. gym and work became his life. eventually he was able to open up his own handyman service and became the biggest "do it all" kind of guy around town. were having issues with your sink pipes.. sevket could fix them.. needing your pool cleaned.. sevket would clean it. a man with a big heart and it paid off because his own business had finally took off. now at 32 the man has moved both his parents into his house in montara and now takes care of them when needed.

[nityarawal]

Rona- Could you please keep working on Dr. Kazi to write a letter now?

Did you find a Dr who can do the AI challenge for court today? Whose quickest at problem solving dissolutions?

IEHP psych sounds like a scam on street people. 

They are mass murdering us in apartheid! Courts kill 1000 per court annually!

Did Dr. Kazi review Dr. Cash's reports and connect?

Dr. Cash is my Forensic psychologist working pro-bono to clean up IEHP fraud. He wrote Psychology for Dummies! 

Can you make sure clerk didn't lie about canceling her rancid creepy court Dr's appointment? I don't agree with crap warfare anymore.

Care. 

Not court.

Dr. Kazi- 

We needs Tick Bight Report From Dr. BROWNING and

Dr. Nadia at Dr Queresheri's 

See Complaints about her Nurse Darlene Violating hippa rights. 

They both left. Darlene is being prosecuted for allowing her boytoy to rape daughter Melody Gray- and now we worry she stole her daughter- in foul play for him. She tried to hurt Melody with RO but Judge is on our side and DA has been asked to restrain iehp trolls.

Handyman Dennis Sketchly & Alex Dustin Grover- militia planted Tick in bed in December. No pets. It was a nazi trick and I've been slummed by Idyllwild Realty & militia 20+ times. I'm a realtor. I can find a nice home. Can you keep court Rats away though. I'm camping because of budget- but also to avoid militia court trolls. So sick of them. I call it fast now when I spot that bs!

X and my brother previously smeared me to the community about private personal medicine choices etc. 

Not interested in selling courts more data. 

We need refunds for 18 months filmed & caged!

Many court hookers abused me for them. 

Darin David Joye broke heart bullying me into Plea bargains for "job," with Abi Odam- my mediator coach I hired for 6 months!

Many hired to seduce/rape/sell etc. 

We think I have lymes, spirochetes, and cyst in brain- possibly skin/female cancers. Extreme fungus growth from dirty conditions at court and being a state refugee tortured on Apartheid stipend. 

It doesn't cover rent! 

Financial fraud from x and courts, blue Shield insurance- has made it hard to see as many naturopaths as I would like but I have extensive training and am a researcher/journalist. I'd like an honorary doctorate for civil service I've done globally on this Apartheid resolution. Noble peace prize? 

NEED SPIROCHETE REPORT

FROM DENTIST DR. CAREY O' REILLY IN ENCINITAS - He's leading expert and posted many videos of our Mouths gingivitis bacteria on YouTube. 

He was mortified my x brought disease home too.

He treats kids too.

Advanced Dermatology- 2 reports/labs

Dentist - 

Riverside Healthcare- labs

Dr. Keane fired

Dr. Singh charged with attempted murder on Probate fraud with thousands of attys/judges/clerks/scams.

I re-endacted probate. I'm not dead. 

I sent Dr Murphys gay Forensic psychologist report with Ashby Clark Sorrensons help- before he attempted my life with Grant Funk & X team with ROs.

Murphy says I'm a genius with a .001% highest vocabulary & IQ. He said courts were too dumb to understand my family of Geniuses. 

Dr. CASH - FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGIST

wrote Psychology For Dummies

Need Metropolitan Hospital report 

For Dmv.org registration for Judge Hodges at Traffic courts. His clerks had me raped many times in 5 years and robbed with Psyche abuse in Judge Judith Clark's murderous courts.

I won and need refunds on wrongful rental car arrest. I proved competency once again. Courts are literally ill with doubt. Murdering is a gruesome job- they suffer- and we don't care. 

Charge them please. 

I was also hospitalized and 5150'd by x to Las Calinas on a murder attempt. I had a dire allergic reaction when an officer dosed me with Depakote and said it was vitamin d. I Begged to go to the hospital. 

Monday they attempted to force me to die on 12 drugs in Psyche court- no call out under Mathew Robert's for Lori Clark Viviano's bribes in public defense rapes.

I appealed and won medical freedom and competency. 

I was hospitalised in Riverside too by psychologist boss Carmel Benson on bribes- raped from work for months- then neighbor murdered!): I always prove competent immediately and don't appreciate my bosses selling me on black market. 

Mary Schmitz and Joan did this at their animal Rescues and I was beat up from work over expired car registration. 

We all know SSI doesn't cover housing or food! 

How to pay for government extortion as a refugee camping? 

Cop Rape is imminent daily. Scary! 

Need Calm And Ground Julie Steiger reports and receipts for 11 months of out of pocket court ordered therapy. She quit early on bribes with CPS & attys. Shes involved in foul play at Idyllwild arts now caging children that didn't appreciate 12+ teachers molesting them! Need $5k + damages in refunds!

I was caged at RPDC shortly after she quit. I got x rays of broken ribs there and Covid2. Please submit data. 

I paid for a year of therapy with Blue Shield Dr Amy Bell. She witnessed violence and saw me immediately after. So did Rebecca Stewart at my Leucadia acupuncturist.

Sunil and I saw several couples therapists. His atty Dr. Alan Silverman was referred by his Mistress paralegal- his x neonazi converted Jewish whore. She doubled on bribes at CPS and called herself a court officer after 7 years of winning her custodial real estate battle with Sunils next atty Jeff Fritz- and my real estate- free help- at my expense with kids for years! These peeps mixed my family! Jeff retired- hired Lori Clark Viviano. She arranged hit and run. Kids and I had to see chiropractors for years in Encinitas, Carmel valley and Idyllwild. Then they attacked my cars, homes & kids. Dr. Alan Silverman teaches Dr Gardner grooming yo pedophiles with Sunil's other lover Daniel Smachtenberger from physics in college. Daniel has lymes and probably gave early spirochetes when Sunil was cheating and stashing cash as UK spy. 

I worked for months with Therapist Tima Ivanova- she quit - conflict of interest with a friend who investigated murder of my property manager. 

I had one other awful iehp therapist that would multitask on the phone and barely heard me. It was hurtful. T Mobile also didn't work at most homes so it's a major hassle to waste time on bad iehp Drs!

I did 18 months of State therapy incarcerated too. I hated it. A Dr. would ask a question & walk away. It was 1-5 minutes of terrorism generally. 

Close that 3rd world detention slavery center! 

I never met a good Dr there and met thousands of worst psychiatrists & a plethora of rushed ignorant Dr's.

Dr. Kazi also found out that I'm allergic to tomatoes & peanuts as a result of ww3 hostage for terrorism. When is the president defending Persian Americans slaughtered in Apartheid by a million Jewish attys & neo nazi defense team? 

Need professional Mammogram order 

Get last ones- Dr Natalya did an awful breast exam! Need real obgyn!

Encinitas Dr said fibrocystic breasts.

Hospitals wouldn't let me have vitamin d or vegetarian diets for 6-9 months in Christian terrorism.

Need to go over 9 labs w/ Dr Kazi next week!

Scripps La Jolla ICU report from 2017 Mark Milton beating with victim reports filed for DA. 

Head injury is best if I practice my own medicine. Courts failed in covid 1,2 &3 Germ warfare. They're filthy! 

Any professional would close down with health department!

Judges have eye sight & contract/real estate training issues. They didn't pass bar? Perhaps!

I need a dissolution. Not another attempt on my life! Dr's steal from my work and family time. I know I'm entertaining. I've never met an iehp Dr or County service that can help heal practical health issues. I have 20+ hairballs & bio matter. I know how to take care of myself as a yogini, mom & educator journalist. We feel sorry for awfully sick court people- but they stole and hurt us in their Kinks. They don't deserve to keep Job's and we need Sanctions on all services rendered plus refunds on every single Offenders license. Thousands took bribes. Mother Nature wants family united.

Israel is just another gaslighting drama- an attack on family/sacred. We're not amused- nor impressed. Our kids need to live in their homes safe. We don't want government raping our families in schools, Apartheid nor courts. They failed my family, Israel, Lahaina and Pres wrote an Iran check to the wrong person. 7 billion go to Persian Americans too. Annually. Tell Jewish Doctors & lawyers to soul search and make reparations for millions of Slaves in America. It's a gross civil emergency what our defense team has done.

They are mass murdering.

Let me know if you can do a conclusive disclosure from all these Dr's. Iehp won't help. None of their Dr's are credited. Medical? Send me your favorite Dr's info only on referrals. I'm very prudent for myself and my sisterhood. Our lives were attempted- so we whistleblow- to stop abuse for our Dr's, patients, students, teachers and mothers. I speak on behalf of 2b mothers globally who demand end of Apartheid. 

We need 50/50 defenses/dissolution and defend rapists immediately with vasectomies and maximum charges. This is sick a rape has to be reported over 20 years in USA. Not one woman nor child ever thought psychiatrist drug induced rape was good for them or anyone's Psyche. How does it make you feel? 24 officer rapes. Police reports at Metropolitan Hospital. 

You can get kids files from the same Dentist, and Christine Wood is there Dr. At El Camino pediatrics. Dr. Eric eisen felt Dr's Clogged their organs with drug warfare & they bloated sick in pictures! You're not meant to take pharmaceuticals for more than 30 days but court Dr's constantly murder & OD. Mom said kids had nightmares so Sunil rufid them. Did he rape them when they were under? His bf reccomends this kind of drugging/grooming/pedo is famous dad and they both consult on mommy murders/rapes in court. I need ROs from all these gross stalkers from x monk David Kaplan's circles! 

I saved myself several times. 

I will now too.

You need to gather ALL medical files! I saw 3 horrible medical dentists. I need my money so I can practice medicine as I was trained at best ayurvedic medical and psychological college in globe.

No one is selling me again. Please do your job so moms can do ours appropriately.

I also wrote all my sandiego Dr's for you on intake forms? Please get my MD Dr. Blaine's files and rest. Those were best Dr's prior to hospital bullying into iehp.

Jay Curatolo is PS promising to provide a DA victim report and fair speedy trial and dissolution. They've literally used 1000's of employees to extort everything we have. We're so done with these bastards! 

7 years is a lot of data!): 

Thank you!

Peace!

Merci!

Nitya Nella Azam Davigo Moezzi Huntley 

On Tue, Oct 10, 2023, 9:16 PM nitya rawal <nityahuntley@gmail.com> wrote:

Thank you for your help! I will leave state tomorrow & get my daughter-  until Dr can assure my safety from rapists. 

No, I didn't even eat. 

War is terrifying on one's family. ):

10/10/2023

Afternoon Songs 

Anjali- 10/10

We're All Crying 

For Israel

Crying For Anjali

Didn't You Get The

Memo

My Sacred 

Family

Almost Desecrated

Israel We Love You

Jews We Love You

But Why You Let Your

Neo-Nazi Attys 

Take Our Kids...

https://www.tumblr.com/nityarawal/730854352139517952/10102023-afternoon-songs-anjali

On Tue, Oct 10, 2023, 5:11 PM PDUC Team <team@palmdeserturgentcaremd.com> wrote:

Hi Nitya,

Attached are all the lab results we have received. Unfortunately, like I have mentioned earlier, his stand remains the same, the letter would be beyond our scope of determination. I do hope you were able to call the number I gave you. 

Please do not reply to this message, we are more than happy to accommodate any of your concerns over the phone. 

Cheers, 

Rona

7603405800

From: nitya rawal <nityahuntley@gmail.com>

Sent: Tuesday, October 10, 2023 4:29 PM

To: PDUC Team <team@palmdeserturgentcaremd.com>

Subject: Re: Referrals

 

Thanks! Could you send my blood labs too? Did you get my other emails for Dr. Kazi? How's his court letter coming?

Nitya 

On Tue, Oct 10, 2023, 3:28 PM PDUC Team <team@palmdeserturgentcaremd.com> wrote:

Hi Nitya, 

As we spoke about, attached are your referrals approved by IEHP. I opted not to include the psychiatry as you do not want anyone in Hemet. Below would be the details I have given to you: 

Psychiatry Walk-In Clinic for IEHP

(760) 674-7132

Address: 41990 Cook St., Suite F-2002, Palm Desert, CA 92211

Monday – Friday, 9am – 5pm

I understand that you do not want to use IEHP because of previous experiences but just for the sake of time, I would highly recommend for you to contact the above walk-in clinic while waiting Dr. Kazi's approval for the letter you are requesting so you will have options. 

Please do not reply to this message, we are more than happy to accommodate any of your concerns over the phone. 

Cheers, 

Rona

7603405800

[hoshi-kawaii]

My FIL who has white man victim syndrome was complaining about a commercial because it showed a female owned tree removal service and to him that's just woke bullshit??

Like you are just looking for reasons to be angry and feel victimized and its hard to be around you.

He called out the same commercial for having the term "handyman" then showing women owned businesses that offer such services.

[carenclean]

World Class Handyman Services at Your Doorstep - Care N Clean Dubai

It can be a difficult task to run a big house, office, or school alone. There is such a tremendous amount of work to oversee and a brief period to do it. When you have a great amount of work to do, you need to release a few things. Minor issues like building maintenance end up being a big problem for you. You would be surprised to know that with development in today's society, certain professional companies are willing to handle these minor issues with home handyman services.

Read this blog to know what handyman services are and how you can profit from them.

What Are Handyman Services?

You are probably going to have known about handyman services. Do you understand what services do they provide?

A handyman offers an extensive list of services. You can get any minor fix work and maintenance work in your home. They can provide everything from the exterior services like paint final details to the installment of carpets. They can also do other work like electrical repairing, plumbing, power washing, tile work, and much more.

Benefits of Handyman Services For Your Home

Now that you know what home handyman services are, you'll need to think about the benefits of working with such help.

More affordable than In-House Maintenance Staff

You might be in a place where you're thinking about whether you should enlist an in-house upkeep staff to assist you with fix work. The upside of having a handyman fulfill the work is that it's more affordable than recruiting a full-time or low-maintenance representative. You can have a professional company reserving with a dedicated group of people like Care n Clean who offer handyman services. That saves you from paying a staff part for quite a long time when there's not much work to complete.

Your Building Maintenance is Up to Date

There is nothing more awful than not giving any attention to building maintenance. It can be as basic as weeds developing around your home or an entryway that needs to be changed. It is not easy to stay aware of everything. However, when you let these things go on, they can deplete your energy. You look at them, get irritated that they're still issues, and proceed onward with your day. Hire an expert home handyman with one click on our website and save yourself from these minor irritations.

Spot Potential Problems

You presumably will not have the chance to go through and review each place in your house. That means you are not ready to spot little things that are expected issues. For example, there might be a sink that has a small hole. You will not notice it until it turns into a leaky tap. A home handyman will detect these minor issues and help you keep steady over them.

Care n Clean has professional people that come with every one of the essential tools and strategies needed to do a remarkable job and dependable home handyman services. They aim to keep your home in great shape and help you with little maintenance when required.

[addictedtomanga]

Shoujo manga recommendations - social gap

1.      Kiss/Hug

Ryuu, a super-business-like transfer student from England with black hair and blue eyes just arrived! During the night of the Tanabata festival, Ryuu and Yukino became attracted to each other at first sight. He then declares, "You will be mine!" This brought confusion to Yukino, who has zero experience in love. But could she actually be falling in love?

2.      Last Game

Nothing is beyond Naoto Yanagi, heir to the Yanagi business conglomerate. Idolized for his athletic and intellectual competence, looks and wealth, Naoto lived like a king during his elementary school days—then entered Mikoto Kujou, a plain, gloomy-looking transfer student.

Due to her low financial status, Naoto was initially apathetic towards Mikoto. But despite having just arrived at his school, she completely eclipsed him in everything by consistently scoring top marks in exams and placing first in athletic events. After a brief confrontation with her that left him shocked, Naoto vowed to outdo her no matter the cost.

Ten years later, they are now students attending the same college. Having failed to defeat Mikoto throughout middle and high school, Naoto decides they will have one last game: if he can make Mikoto fall in love with him and then break her heart, it will be his victory. However, he finds himself falling in love with her instead...

3.      ReRe Hello

Ririko is a hardworking girl who has been performing the role of a mother in her household after the death of her own one when she was five. When her father, a handyman, is stricken with illness and admitted to a hospital, Ririko decides to take up the role of a handyman to help her father's business in his absence. Her first client is a rich teenage boy with high expectations of his helpers. Will she be able to satisfy him?

4.      Sabaku no Harem

Mishe a strong willed girl raised from poverty has caught Prince Kallum's attention. Attention as in, "you will become one of my concubines," thus begins Mishe's adventures into Prince Kallum's world.

5.      Shitsuij-sama no Okiniiri

Himura Ryou, who after losing her parents, is taken in by her grandparents who are from a distinguished family. Through them, she transfers to the famous Souseikan Academy. On the first day at school, Ryou receives guidance from a guy in a tuxedo when she gets lost in the vast garden of the academy. Then she learns that he's Kanzawa Hakuou of the shutsuji apprentice course, which is also known as "B class," Ryou...!?

6.      The Maid at my House

Runako is studying hard to someday succeed as owner of her family's maid dispatching service company. One day, a request comes in from an entertainment production company and shockingly, it's for their super-popular star, Seirei Moroboshi! But could it be that the image he projects on the TV is far different than his true secret face...?!

7.      Adele to Darius

Adele was just another maltreated slave girl being sold at the country market. She was sold one day to become an addition to the harem of the country’s King of Cruelty. Rumor has it that the once the King takes a slave girl for the night, he then executes her in the morning. Once in the harem, she sees that all girls who are called into the King’s chamber really do not return. To fight against this fate, Adele resolves to volunteer to be called to the King’s chamber and find out the truth. But things are not what they seem…

8.      Boku no Ie ni Oide

In order to live a normal high-school life, Mirei started her first part-time job. But after receiving her first paycheck, she almost kills a highly-ranked bishounen…?! An encounter with a super poor and pessimistic innocent girl, is this a beautiful miracle?!

9.      Hana ni Arashi

Even though her body has unusual ability, Kunimi Riko is still (trying to be) a normal high school girl. One day, a guy suddenly came to see her. He's Tachibana Ran, the heir of the world leading super millionaire Tachibana family! A high tension romance between Ran, who suddenly proposed, and Riko, who turned him down. 

10.  Ibara no Okite

Earl Craven’s territory is laden with rules to abide – when the earl himself walks in the hallway, all servants present should turn their back on him, avoiding his gaze, which is why even his servants call him “the devil”… except for one. Priscilla is a maid in Earl Robert Craven’s abode and is the only one who captured the young earl’s tender heart. But what happens when a rich woman comes and calls the earl her future husband for the sake of business? Will their love prevail, or will their social status hinder them? This is a story about the struggles and trials of the star-crossed lovers.

11.  Nikoniko x punpun

Ootani Rin, a girl from a poor family due to her father's gambling, is attending a high school on a scholarship. She has been taking care of her sisters and mother ever since her father ran away. Her school doesn't allow its students to work part time, but she's not worried about it since all the students at her school are rich. However, one boy takes an interest in her, and finds out about her part-time job. To keep him quiet, she has to make him a bento.

12.  No rest for the poor, fall in love Botan

Botan, the poor girl in an exclusive school is on top of the class. But the uber rich boy, who is second in rank in school proposes to her that if he places in the first place, he get her to do what he wants. Can Botan beat him? And what is it that the boy wants from her?

13.  The honeybee earl and the flower dress

Dahlia is the only female dressmaker in Galleria. She kidnapped and commissioned by the infamous "Honeybee Earl", who is known to jump from woman to woman like a capricious bee jumps from flower to flower, to make the ultimate wedding dress for his fiancee. Can Dahlia complete the dress without getting stung by the Honeybee Earl?

14.  Ouran high school host club

At Ouran High School, an academy where only the children of the rich and powerful attend, there exists a club consisting of the most elite of the student body: the legendary Host Club. Within the club's room, six beautiful, bored boys spend their time entertaining equally beautiful and bored girls.

Haruhi Fujioka, a poor scholarship student, has no interest in the Host Club—until she breaks a valuable vase in their clubroom. After being mistaken for a boy, Haruhi is forced by Kyouya Ootori to work for the Host Club to repay her debt. Tamaki Suou, the princely leader of the club, eagerly takes her under his wing to teach her the ways of the host.

Things, however, are never quite so simple with the Host Club around. Even the most mundane events can turn into huge spectacles with the likes of prankster twins Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin, stoic Takashi Morinozuka, and sweet Mitsukuni "Hunny" Haninozuka. The crazy adventures of the Host Club are just beginning, and Haruhi must learn how to survive in the glitzy world of the hosts.

15.  Kaichou wa maid-sama

Seika High School was an all-boys school, but it has since turned co-ed. Misaki Ayuzawa is the first female student council president of the school, eventually earning the nickname of the "Demon President" due to her mastery of Aikido and imposed iron rule.

However, Misaki harbors an embarrassing secret—she has to work at a maid café to support her family. If anybody from her school was to find out, her reputation would be utterly destroyed. And after Takumi Usui—the most popular boy at school—discovers her secret, that might just happen. Kaichou wa Maid-sama! follows their story as they spend more time together and eventually begin to understand each other's secrets.

16.  Special A

Have you ever known someone who was better than you at everything you did? Hikari does. She's known Kei since they were both six years old and he's surpassed her at everything. Now they are the top two students in an extremely prestigious high school, with Kei holding firmly to that number one position, and Hikari is still determined to beat him, no matter what it takes.

17.  Bitter Trap (TAKAGI Shigeyoshi) 

Nanao came from a rich family before their business failed. Now the only hope for her family to pay off their debts is if she can cement a marriage with the prestigious Takatsuki family within a week. How will Nanao overcome this problem when one of the three eligible Takatsuki men is her former arrogant schoolmate, Yoshito, who completely distrusts people? And did we forget to mention that Nanao is already the ninety-ninth candidate for the position of future wife?!

18.  Usotsuki Ouji no Karekano Gokko

A poor commoner chatterbox accidentally entered the celebrity high school and the unthinkable happened...?

19.  Takane to hana

Sixteen-year-old Hana Nonomura is forced to be the substitute for her older sister Yukari at a miai: a meeting between two people considering an arranged marriage. Hana's prospective suitor turns out to be the handsome heir of the wealthy Takaba company, Takane Saibara, who is 10 years her senior. He promptly shows disdain toward Hana and, in response, she tells him that she is equally unimpressed by his status and personality.

Hana believes that her actions at the meeting should have put an end to the discussions about marriage with Takane. To her surprise, not only does the man want to proceed with negotiations but he also starts to show interest in her! This is just the beginning of a special relationship between two polar opposites!

[fereality-indy]

Wendip Week 2020 - Time Travel

What if Wendip kids time traveled to the first summer?

Time Travel 

“Mom! Dad!” one of a pair of well hidden teens call out as the car hits the ground and rolls. When it stops, the passenger door opens and Dipper falls out.

“So... close.” Dipper said as he begins crawling, “Mabel... I'm... almost there.”

“Remember, just cause they can’t see us doesn’t mean they can’t hear us.” The other hidden teen quietly said as he pulled a device from out of his pocket.

Dipper stops in crawling front of a cloaked figure who walked into the his path. The cloaked figure offers him his hand and pulls back his hood, “Heya, Dipper. How's it hanging?”

“Look it’s Uncle Soos. Man he’s lost so much weight.” The first teen softly added.

Dipper’s face brightened as he saw his friend, “Soos!”

Wendy stands up from behind the car, she appears bruised as she says. "Soos?”

Smiling as her, Soos replied “Handyman of the apocalypse, at your service.”

“Alright that was nice. We’re gonna have to call him that the next time we see him bro.” The redheaded teen girl said as she looked out at her parents and her ‘uncle’.

“If they don’t kill us for doing this I’ll think about it sis.” The male ten said he pressed a button on the device and aimed it at his parents. “Man, they look so young. It’s hard to believe dad was ever that little. And mom, wow.”

“It’s happening, you got it working?” the older teen asked her ‘little’ brother.

“Of course I do, sis. I’ve been operating this camera since Aunt Tambry gave it to me.” The mahogany mopped male said as he watched a group of wannabe ‘Asphalt Maniacs’ have surrounded their parents, cheering. “Wait a minute, is that Penny’s dad down there with them. Man he was such a chump.”

Gideon steps onto the hood of the truck, “Wooowee. I dare say y'all almost had the jump on me there for a second. But this ain't your Gravity Falls anymore! Out here, I win.”

He then claps and gets thrown a conch, which he blows before he added. “Bill's henchbats will be here any minute to retrieve y'all. MABEL'S MINE NOW! Hahahaha!”

Dipper looked down at something in his hands that the teens couldn’t get a good look at from where they were before he responded, "Is she?”

Meanwhile Gideon began to huff, looking much more like a petulant child than the calm and composed father of one of their out of town friends, "Well, yeah. I have her trapped, ergo, Mabel is MINE!”

“Whoa, wait a minute. Mr. Gleeful was a bad guy? And he tried to kidnap Aunt Mabel?” the female teen said as she processed what she had heard.

“Why I outta go down there and give that lil ship a piece of my mind.” The male teen added.

“Can’t let you do it Ran. The speech we came here to tape is about to happen. Besides, we promised Officer Blandin that we wouldn’t change history.” The girl said to her brother.

“I know Debs. But sheesh, just hearing that makes me angry.” Ran responded as he held up the camera and it’s small directional microphone towards where his father stood.

Dipper looked back down at whatever was in his hands before he spoke “Gideon, listen to me, if I've learned anything this summer it's that you can't force someone to love you.”

Looking at Wendy for a moment, Dipper then turns back towards Gideon and continued. "The best you can do is strive to be someone worthy of loving.”

Gideon stood up straight as he yelled, “Oh, I'm worthy o' lovin'! These prisoners love me!”

The two teens continued to watch the gathering until Gideon and his goons drove off towards the floating pyramid.

“Wait a minute, that was it? That was the speech that told mom that dad was the one? Really?” Ran was saying as he shut off the camera and began putting it back into the pock on his cargo pants. “I mean, I thought it was gonna be some grandiose speech worthy of Stoneworker.”

“Oh com’on bro. Cheer up. We came here to get a keepsake for Mom and dad’s anniversary, not so you could get a hint on how to talk to your ‘girlfriend’.” The seventeen year old said to her fifteen year old brother. She pulled a familiar tape measure off of her belt.  

“Hey,  Meaghan is just a friend, who happens to be a girl. Wait a minute, why? what have you heard?” Ran was asking as his sister snapped the tape measure closed and they disappeared.  

[blackkudos]

Rosario Dawson

Rosario Isabel Dawson (born May 9, 1979) is an American actress and singer. She made her feature film debut in the 1995 independent drama Kids. Her subsequent film roles include He Got Game (1998), Josie and the Pussycats (2001), Men in Black II (2002), Rent (2005), Sin City (2005), Clerks II (2006), Death Proof (2007), Unstoppable (2010), and Top Five (2014). Dawson has also provided voice-over work for Disney, Warner Bros., DC Comics, and ViacomCBS' Nickelodeon unit.

For her role in Rent, Dawson won the Satellite Award for Best Supporting Actress – Motion Picture; for her role in Top Five, she was nominated for the Critics' Choice Movie Award for Best Actress in a Comedy.

Dawson is also known for having several roles in comic book adaptations. These include Gail in Sin City (2005) and Sin City: A Dame to Kill For (2014), providing the voices of Diana Prince / Wonder Woman in the DC Animated Movie Universe and Barbara Gordon / Batgirl in The Lego Batman Movie, as well as her portrayal of Claire Temple in five of the Marvel/Netflix series: Daredevil (2015–2016), Jessica Jones (2015), Luke Cage (2016–2018), Iron Fist and The Defenders (both 2017).

Early life

Dawson was born on May 9, 1979, in New York City. Her mother, Isabel Celeste, is of Cuban and Puerto Rican ancestry. Isabel was 16 years old when Rosario was born; she never married Rosario's biological father, Patrick C. Harris. When Rosario was a year old, her mother married Greg Dawson, a construction worker. Dawson has a half-brother, Clay, who is four years younger.

Isabel and Greg sublet their 199 Avenue A apartment to Paul de Rienzo and moved their family into a reclaimed building after being approved by the 544 East 13 Street residents on the Lower East Side of Manhattan as members of a affordable housing plan. During that time Rosario and Clay would also grow up in Texas. Dawson has cited this part of her history when explaining how she learned that, "If you wanted something better, you had to do it all yourself."

Career

As a child, Dawson made a brief appearance on Sesame Street. At the age of 15, she was subsequently discovered on her front-porch step by photographer Larry Clark and Harmony Korine, where Korine lauded her as being perfect for a part he had written in his screenplay that would become the controversial 1995 film Kids. She went on to star in varied roles, ranging from independent films to big budget blockbusters including Rent, He Got Game and Men in Black II.

In 1998, Dawson teamed up with Prince for the re-release of his 1980s hit "1999". The new remixed version featured the actress in an introductory voice over, offering commentary on the state of the world in the year before the new millennium. The following year, she appeared in The Chemical Brothers' video for the song "Out of Control" from the album Surrender. She is also featured on the track "She Lives In My Lap" from the second disc of the OutKast album Speakerboxxx/The Love Below, in which she speaks the intro and a brief interlude towards the end.

In 2001, she appeared in the movie, Josie and the Pussycats as band member Valerie Brown.

Dawson starred as Naturelle Rivera, the love interest of a convicted drug dealer played by Edward Norton, in the 2002 Spike Lee film drama, 25th Hour. In the 2004 Oliver Stone film Alexander, she played the bride of Alexander the Great. In the autumn of 2005, Dawson appeared on stage as Julia in the Public Theater's "Shakespeare in the Park" revival of Two Gentlemen of Verona. It was her first appearance on stage.

In the film adaptation of the popular musical Rent in 2005, she played the exotic dancer Mimi Marquez, replacing Daphne Rubin-Vega, who was pregnant and unable to play the part. She also appeared in the adaptation of the graphic novel Sin City, co-directed by Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller, portraying Gail, a prostitute-dominatrix. Also in that year, she appeared in a graphically violent scene in the Rob Zombie film The Devil's Rejects. Though the scene was cut from the final film, it is available in the deleted scenes on the DVD release.

She starred as Becky in 2006's Clerks II, and mentioned in Back to the Well, the making-of documentary, that the donkey show sequence was what made her decide to take the role. In May of the same year, Dawson, an avid comic book fan, co-created and co-wrote the comic book miniseries Occult Crimes Taskforce. She was at the 2007 San Diego Comic-Con to promote the comic. She co-starred with former Rent alum Tracie Thoms in the Quentin Tarantino throwback movie Death Proof in 2007, part of the Tarantino/Robert Rodriguez double feature Grindhouse. She teamed up with friend Talia Lugacy, whom she met at the Lee Strasberg Academy, to produce and star in Descent. On July 7, 2007, Dawson presented at the American leg of Live Earth.

In 2008, Dawson starred with Will Smith in Seven Pounds and in Eagle Eye, produced by Steven Spielberg. Beginning in August, she starred in Gemini Division, an online science fiction series. In the computer animated series Afterworld, she voiced the character Officer Delondre Baines. On January 17, 2009, Dawson hosted Saturday Night Live. Later in the year, she voiced Artemis of Bana-Mighdall in the animated film Wonder Woman.

In 2009, Dawson performed in The People Speak, a documentary feature film that uses dramatic and musical performances of the letters, diaries, and speeches of everyday Americans, based on historian Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States. In 2009, Dawson also voiced the character of Velvet Von Black in Rob Zombie's animated feature, The Haunted World of El Superbeasto. For the Kasabian album West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum, she is featured singing on the track "West Ryder Silver Bullet".

In 2010, she starred in the movies Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief, as Persephone, and Unstoppable, as railway yardmaster Connie. In 2013, she played Apple's mother in the independent film Gimme Shelter. The following year, she reprised her role as Gail in Sin City: A Dame to Kill For. In 2015, she played Claire Temple in the Netflix web television series Daredevil, a role which she reprised in Jessica Jones and Luke Cage. Dawson's likeness was also used in the Jessica Jones tie-in comic as her character on both shows. Dawson has continued this role in 2017 in Iron Fist and The Defenders. In 2018, she played the female lead role in the Netflix movie, Krystal. In 2020, she was cast as the Star Wars character Ahsoka Tano in the second season of The Mandalorian on Disney+.

Personal life

Dawson is a self-professed Trekkie who mentioned both her and her brother's love of Star Trek in an interview with Conan O'Brien, and also demonstrated her knowledge of several Klingon words.

Dawson adopted a 11-year-old girl in 2014.

From 2016 to 2017, Dawson dated comedian and television host Eric Andre.

In March 2019, Dawson confirmed that she is in a relationship with United States senator Cory Booker.

In October 2019 Derek Finley, a trans man, filed a case in Los Angeles against Dawson and her family for alleged incidents involving discrimination, verbal abuse, misgendering and physical assault. Finley had been employed as a handyman, living with the family and had known them for decades. The Dawson family has not publicly commented.

In February 2020, Dawson publicly came out as a member of the LGBT community.

Politics

Dawson was arrested in 2004, while protesting against president George W. Bush.

Dawson endorsed Barack Obama for re-election in 2012, and Bernie Sanders for the Democratic nomination in the 2016 Democratic Party primaries. On April 15, 2016, Dawson was among the protesters arrested during Democracy Spring in Washington, D.C.

In mid-2019, Dawson endorsed her boyfriend Cory Booker in the 2020 presidential election. Booker ended his campaign for president on January 13, 2020. Had she become First Lady of the United States, Dawson said she would have advocated for solutions to youth homelessness. On March 9, 2020, Dawson endorsed the presidential campaign of Bernie Sanders, whom she had also previously endorsed in his 2016 bid.

Philanthropy

Dawson is involved with the Lower East Side Girls Club and supports other charities such as environmental group Global Cool, One Campaign, Operation USA, Oxfam, Amnesty International, Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG), the International Rescue Committee, Voto Latino, and Stay Close.org, a poster and public service ad campaign for PFLAG where she is featured with her uncle Frank Jump. She has participated in the Vagina Monologues (she refers to her vagina as "The General") and serves on the board for V-Day, a global non-profit movement that raises funds for women's anti-violence groups through benefits of this play.

In October 2008, Dawson became a spokeswoman for TripAdvisor.com's philanthropy program, More Than Footprints, Conservation International, Doctors Without Borders, National Geographic Society, The Nature Conservancy and Save The Children. Also in October 2008, she lent her voice to the RESPECT! Campaign, a movement aimed at preventing domestic violence. She recorded a voice message for the Giverespect.org Web site stressing the importance of respect in helping stop domestic violence. In 2012, Dawson partnered with SodaStream International in launching the first annual Unbottle the World Day, a campaign conceived in an effort to raise awareness to the impact of cans and plastic bottles on the environment. Dawson also sits on the Board of Directors of Scenarios USA, which works to support a generation of reflective, outspoken, and confident youth through filmmaking and uses film to educate students through a variety of programs.

[naesoonghonors]

Suspiria, a young woman's bad dream

Suspiria (1977)

Well, this movie was not what I thought it was going to be, but perhaps that’s my fault for being so ignorant of 1970’s Italian (surrealist?) Horror. It is a completely different language film language from even the previously reviewed ‘Diabolique’. But the unique treat of this stylish women centered horror is worth being thrown for a loop.

This movie kicks off with some very obvious symbolism of our young heroine Suzy in a white dress following in the footsteps of a bright red dressed woman. Suzy unaware of the foreshadowed danger continues making her way through German airport where she has arrived to attend a prestigious dance academy, Freiburg Dance Academy. In the first oddity of the movie Suzy hails a cab. She asks the driver, male, to get out and help her with her two tiny bags in the pouring rain. And the most surprising thing to the room I was watching with was that he didn’t. She honest to god only had two tiny bags but was is odder for her to ask considering the circumstances or for the man to ignore her asking completely. So the main character is set up with a bit of a … hostile? Perhaps uncaring? Environment. But what this reads in retrospect is that Suzy will have to quickly learn to be independent and unafraid to do what she needs to. Regardless Suzy makes it to her destination but as she comes to the door a woman rushes out disturbed, muttering, and then running away into the night. Suzy is… unbothered by this for the most part. She remarks on its oddness but does not act on the woman in any way. So Suzy goes up to the door and asks to be let in via the intercom system but is denied. So she decides to leave and come back in the morning.

The camera decides instead to follow the fleeing Patricia as she stays the night with a friend. She is followed and haunted by an unknown apparition. It reaches to grab her from outside the window with large masculine looking hands. Odd considering we know this is sent to kill her by a seemingly all female coven. But perhaps that’s purposeful. The witches are only known to be using witchcraft through subtle machinations. While never revealed the coven does keep around a couple men in laborer roles to maintain the estate. This may be an illustration of their backwards and ironic dominance of men. While most witch stories have witches in some sense serving under the devil, the ancient Mother Susipiriorum and her two sisters seem to be their own forces of nature. The school having a large portion of male staff is supposed to be odd to the viewer. Even how housework as depicted by these men would usually be a role assumed by women. Like a certain male student is worried about getting home in time for supper. He has to be loyal to the school as he is unable to pay their full tuition, so he became the schools errand boy. They even degrade the handyman saying that the girls can say whatever they please about him because he doesn’t speak English. Instead of ugly Romanian man instead make him a buxom Russian maid and this dialogue becomes much more normalized, particularly for the time.

Despite the girl power narrative of these strong murderous witches oppressing men, I say sarcastically, the coven is very much a self-serving organization. Any possibility of a student, no matter their gender, finding out about their coven is in instant danger for horrific murder. Their ultra-violence isn’t even used in a spell or ritual sense, they just seem willing to murder women and men alike for any reason they deem worthy. They have a blind man killed by his own service dog for his dog biting a little boy one of the head mistresses was fond of. Oh yeah, I hadn’t mentioned yet but on of the women in charge of the school keeps around a little Victorian child she calls her nephew almost like a pet. Overall this narrative has a very dream like feel makes intent difficult to follow.

Back to the plot at large Suzy comes in the next day to begin her time at the academy, and every character to greet her is sure to first mention how beautiful Suzy is. Of course in a performing art like Ballet not looking hideous could be seen as part of the job but the why not compliment her body? As a ballerina that is what would be more focused on. But in 1970’s Germany, and under the directorial lead of a 1970’s Italian man, it is a fit for the time. Beautiful comes to be synonymous with acceptable when relating to women. When Patricia is kicked out of the academy/ murdered She is spoken very ill of by staff and fellow dancer alike. Almost immediately these women are willing to turn against their own because they were perceived of as wrong. Even though Patricia did nothing wrong besides get caught spying of the murderous coven hiding in her dance school. Women throughout history have had very polarizing view thrust upon them. Very infrequently even outside of film is an ‘okay’ woman accepted. They must be poised, graceful, or the very best to be considered. Otherwise they can quickly become cast out as social pariahs just as Patricia instantly was. So Patricia is thrown under the bus by her fellow woman in order to keep their nefarious, world controlling ways secret.

The witch’s coven seems to thrive with the easily manipulated dance students living above them. They do however seem completely unwilling to add more to their coven. Suzy is descried as ‘strong willed’ but framed as that is thought of as a negative thing. These witches and their craft are framed as negative and not as a tool for women but as evil. Suzy later in the movie visits a professor of the occult. He claims witches can only cause harm and sickness, only working to accumulate personal wealth and power. He also contradicts himself and claims witchcraft is just mental illness. Okay, sure, lets ignore all the supernatural murders. Only working to accumulate wealth and power? So what that’s what men do every day. I would love to hear this professor explain how using magic to murder people you don’t like is any morally different from what the rich and wealthy do every day. But I guess when women do it it’s strange and unnatural as opposed to the very natural concept of a ruling elite class of families controlling the world already. But what is most telling of the times is the doctors most harshly delivered line that these women do not giving life only death. Because what else can women do besides give birth in order to not be compared to literal murder witches.

This movies plot is for the most part irrelevant. But Suzy finds the witch coven using her wit and strong will the witches attempted to suppress in her. But the ultimate outcome I took from this film was the need of young women to question and even break old norms. As Suzy sets the house ablaze and escapes, I see the metaphorical winds of change ushering her out of the building that dared to attempt to keep her down. The final famous shot of Suzy is that of her walking away from the burning academy smiling. Not in a crazed grimace but a knowing smile. Suzy knows she has destroyed this terrible institution and she will be able to move past this terrible dream. She does not need these outdated traditions that only manifest to hold her back or attempt to suppress her will and character.

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[sunlightdances]

Half of Your Heart (1/6)

Title: Half of Your Heart Author: Katie @sunlightdances Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: All you’ve ever wanted your entire life was to have a job working at a National Park. You finally get a chance, but things are not as they seem. Working in a remote area of Rocky Mountain National Park, you just hope you can get through your first summer. Rating/Genre/Warnings: Eventual M. Fluff, a little angst, and smut. Warnings for canonical descriptions of violence and harsh language. Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural, or any characters from the show. Any similarities between descriptions and plot in this fanfic and the TV show are coincidence. My work is not to be posted on another site (except for reblogs) without my express written permission! Author’s Note: This has been a long time coming. I wanted to do another series as soon as I completed my first, and a recent trip to Colorado got my wheels spinning again. Thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks again to @deanssweetheart23 for the banner!

Links are being stupid, so you can find the masterlist for this fic on my blog in my sidebar!

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Your first thought when you pull your truck up the long gravel drive is that this cannot possibly be the right address. You frown, looking down at the map on your passenger seat, a bright red circle over the area you were in.

When you got your assignment from the Park Service, it was a dream come true. Now though, looking ahead at the derelict cabin ahead of you, it was looking more like a nightmare.

You cut the engine and lean on your steering wheel, blowing a strand of hair out of your eyes. “Okay,” you sigh to yourself, “Let’s go see what the hell I got myself into.”

You haul a bag out of your truck and head up to the rickety front steps, watching carefully so you don’t end up stepping right through a weak spot.

Your interview with your supervisor was suspiciously brief, and you didn’t get a lot of details. He seems like he’s not much for words, so you had just taken it with a grain of salt in the moment. Now? You wish you knew more about the area you were in and what exactly the full extent of your duties are.

“There��s a campground at the Northeast end of the Park. It’s not as popular as our other campgrounds, but we get mountain climbers and hikers out there. It needs some cleaning up. I’m going to send you and another team out there to get started.”

Just then, the door bursts open and two men almost fly through it, each of them glaring at the other, straightening their uniforms as they struggle for breath.

“Sorry we’re late.”

Your supervisor glares at them. “You’re lucky Bobby put in for you, or--” He stops mid sentence, glancing at you. Awkwardly, he clears his throat. “Anyway. Y/N, this is Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean, this is Y/N. She’s new.”

“So are we.” Sam says with a friendly smile, shaking his hand. You’re struck at first by how tall he is.

“The three of you are going to be doing some maintenance. Some of the campsites need to be cleared out of brush, and the main shower building needs some work.” He turns to you, “I know this probably isn’t what you pictures when you graduated, but we all start somewhere.”

“Honestly as long as I’m working here in the Park, I don’t care what I’m doing.” You say honestly, and you can feel -- what was his name? Dean? You can feel his eyes on you. You blush, feeling self conscious.

You supervisor smiles, a little rough around the edges. “There’s an old cabin at the end of the road towards the campground. It’s a little rough, but nice enough. You’re staying there, Y/N. Sam and Dean are going to take up the role of camp hosts and stay in the campground.”

That brings you to now, inside the sparse living quarters you’ve been assigned. You’re not a materialistic person, you don’t care about that, but-- when you heard this campground was remote, they weren’t kidding.

There’s not even a camp store close by, so you make a mental note to make the drive to Estes Park and force yourself to deal with the crowds long enough to do some heavy duty grocery and supply shopping.

A knock on the doorframe as you’re standing there with your bags makes you jump, and you turn around to see Dean, one of the other rangers standing there, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry - I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” you smile weakly. “Are you settled in at the campground?”

He nods. “Just down the road. Have you been over there yet?”

“Not yet.” You set your bag down by your feet. “Looks like I have my work cut out for me here, too.”

Dean grins, eyes roving over every inch of your new home. You notice the way his eyes linger on the flimsy lock and the broken windows, and watch curiously as his expression hardens, just a bit. “My brother and I can help you fix this place up. All the way out here… you should at least get the windows replaced.”

You shrug. “The Park Service is supposed to handle all of that. I don’t think--”

“It’ll be faster if we help you do it.” Dean suggests. “Unless you don’t want-- sorry if I’m overstepping--”

“No, no.” You take a step closer to him. “I appreciate it. Thank you. I just-- I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this, that’s all.”

He’s quiet for a minute, biting his bottom lip. “Well, I don’t think we actually have to get started on the campground until tomorrow. So just walk down there if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

He gives you a little wave as he heads out the door, and you try not to feel self conscious when he looks back over his shoulder as he gets to the end of the gravel drive.

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4 hours later you’re exhausted. You managed to find some cleaning supplies tucked away in a closet and scrubbed down the entire cabin. There’s not much in the way of furniture, but a new mattress was supplied for you, and you collapse into it with relief.

A knock on your door makes you groan, and you barely manage to make it to your feet, shuffling into what is technically the living room so you can answer the door.

The other, taller one -- Sam, your mind supplies -- is there, a shy smile on his face, and a toolbox in hand. “Hi. Dean mentioned you need a new lock put on?”

“What are you guys -- the welcome committee?” You tease.

“Figured it’s the least I can do if we’re going to be doing manual labor together,” He says, grinning.

“I appreciate it. So… have you guys been with the Park Service for long?”

“Ah… no. Not really. A few months.”

You hum non committedly as you watch him get to work, and in the distance you can make out the sounds of families at the campground. It brings a small smile to your face - you remember the trips with your family as a big reason why you wanted to work at a National Park in the first place.

“Always wanted to be a handyman?” You ask, and he snorts.

“Not exactly. You know how it is. Shit duty before you can get the real work.”

You frown. “Yeah.” You stare out the window, admiring the view of the Rockies. “It’s beautiful out here though, I’m just glad to be here at all.”

Through the open door as Sam works, you can see Dean approaching, taking a minute to admire the way he looks in his uniform. You’re not blind, he’s a good looking guy. There’s something there keeping you at a distance though, the clench of his jaw and the way his eyes dart around making you a little unsettled.

“Were you calling me?” He asks his brother immediately, not even bothering to look at you. You bristle a bit, but ignore it.

“What?” Sam looks up briefly from where he’s finishing screwing in the plate on the new door lock. “No. I’ve been here the whole time.”

“I thought--” Dean looks back out the open door. “Never mind. Are you almost done? I need to talk to you.”

Again, you bristle, because it was like night and day with this guy. Wasn’t he just here this morning having a polite, borderline-flirty conversation with you? You roll your eyes at yourself, because you don’t have time to care about this. Sam and Dean are coworkers, and for right now, neighbors. That’s it.

“That’ll do it,” Sam says. “You should be all set. The key is the same, but just a little more secure.” He smiles at you.

“I appreciate it. This place doesn’t need any help being creepy, so at least the lock will give me peace of mind.”

“If you need anything else, let me know.” Sam says, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as Dean rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Thank you, Sam.” You reply, laying it on extra thick, the petty part of you wanting nothing more than to annoy the older Winchester as much as possible. God forbid you actually take up Sam’s offer to help out, not to mention the fact that Dean was the one who pointed out all the repairs that needed to be done.

Men. You’ll never understand them.

The Winchesters leave, and you feel exhaustion once again settle into your bones. You’re finally going to take that nap, and nothing is going to interrupt you this time.

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Dean’s shoulders are tense as he and Sam walk back to the campground. Dean can’t shake the feeling that something is off - especially because he knows he wasn’t imagining hearing Sam’s voice earlier as he was doing research.

“You know, you could have been a little nicer back there.” Sam says.

“I was distracted.”

“Still. It’s bad enough she’s getting roped into this whole thing--”

“That wasn’t our call. We had no say in that.”

“I just find it weird that the guy in charge would bring us in here knowing full well what we could be up against but still puts someone out here alone in a cabin. Doesn’t even bother to close the campground.”

“You think he has something to do with it?”

Sam shrugs, stopping as they get to the door of their trailer, pulling it open. “Wouldn’t be the craziest thing that’s ever happened.”

Dean frowns. He can’t make sense of this. The attacks that have been happening were written off earlier on as bear attacks. But after the frequency ratcheted up, no one could pretend anymore. The director is an old hunter friend of Bobby’s and decided he couldn’t handle this one by himself.

“We should go around and introduce ourselves to the campers,” Dean says, thinking out loud. “Hopefully we can get some stories out of some of them and figure out what we’re dealing with here.”

Sam nods. “Good idea.”

They’re both quiet for a minute, before Dean smirks, “Did you see her checking me out in this uniform, though?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Dude.”

“What? She was.”

Sam snorts. “You’re so full of yourself.”

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Tumblr is being dumb about links, so find the next part by going to my masterlist > Dean fics > Half of Your Heart > Masterlist! 

Tagging friends: @lipstickandwhiskey @deanssweetheart23 @sixtysevenandwhiskey @lastactiontricia