#Professional Sound Contractor

[hellothisisangle]

Relationship Analysis

Prefacing this by admitting I had to rewrite a good chunk of River. He’s notoriously got few quests leading up to the romance side of things. The actual relationship jump is marked with an arrow a bit below, here’s some backstory

↓

V would never willingly work with a cop. They’ve been disillusioned enough by the system and the people who enforce it to build their life on chaos and middle fingers. But the job that lead to River was backed by the kind of money that made V bite their tongue, swallow the “ACAB”, and resist the urge to spit on the guy’s polished boots. Doesn’t mean there wasn’t more than a few off-color statements thrown out here and there though. River barely rolled his eyes, didn’t instigate. He was a model lawman, like something out of a movie. Actually, too much like a movie. Because when the preliminary investigation of the Peralez’s case [I FOUGHT THE LAW] came to a close and River’s superiors told him to stop pursuing, V could tell this was another one of those NCPD cover-up situations.

“Exactly what I expect from donut munchers. Good thing my client’s an independent contractor,” V snidely remarked.

“I’ll take this to the top if I have to,” River said with conviction.

So, so virtuous. Then, another distraught call came from the Peralezes [DREAM ON]. They’d had a suspicious break in, needed a professional to look into it. V shows up, and who’s already on-site, all badge-and-honor attitude? River fucking Ward. Again. Definitely not because the NCPD told him to, so what- Out of the goodness of his heart?

“You make it sound like it’s something to be ashamed of,” River sighed.

(…) “Not something you come across in this city,” V pointed out. “And especially not in cops.”

Somehow, V is able to get more information, why River is really doing this. He’s not a stranger to home invasions, lived it first hand, lost both his parents. He doesn’t want to see another family torn apart. River is starting to seem more like a real person than a one-dimensional neon sign that reads, ‘I believe in the law’. If there’s anyone who could get V to even remotely reconsider the idea that not every badge is a pig, it just might be River.

They managed to track down the Peralez’s boogeymen together, although- the case involved more victims than just the affluent family who hired them, and somehow seemed to be related to a power with ties to the NCPD. River immediately wants to go whistleblower. He’s talking protective custody, full exposure. V raises an eyebrow. It isn’t only the Peralezes being monitored- strings all across Night City are being pulled. And if River wants to trigger a massacre just to save the few people in front of them, that blood’s on him. On the other hand, if the Peralezes fork over however much they think their lives are worth, V isn’t complaining- V could give a shit about politicians. River, ever the hero, insists he’ll take the information back to the station- see if he can’t orchestrate protection for everyone. Noble, but stupid, V thinks.

Afterwards, V gets a call from a mysterious number- a scrambled voice telling them to detour from this trail they’re following. V attempts to check in with the Peralezes- the line has gone cold. V then contacts River, who sounds a little different over the holo, kind of forced. He requests to meet in person. Chubby Buffalo’s BBQ in The Glen. V already got their pay, they wanted to wipe their hands of this whole thing, but curiosity got the better of them. And what does River have to say? He got canned. Tossed out by a system he believed in. V? They laugh. Double over. Find it darkly poetic. The guy who walked the line, booted the second it became inconvenient.

River doesn’t think it’s so funny. His parents’ murderer that was never brought to justice, the Peralezes, countless other investigations swept under the rug…

“So what’re you gonna do about it?” V asks.

“Become a PI,” River replies.

Fitting. Suits him better. He already owns the long leather trench. Some time later, V and River accomplish [THE HUNT] together. River is offered a position back on the force. To V’s surprise they turn it down.

↓

V is convinced to work a few private cases with River, split the profits, and the more they’re side by side, the more they notice the little details. A familiar broad frame. A voice too caring. A laugh a bit too loud. Awkward. Earnest. The kind of man who tries to look away when V leans close, but can’t help but blush and stiffen. V sees echos they’re not sure what to make of. They push River- how about bending a rule here and there? You ever use handcuffs for something off the books? And River gives. Slowly but surely. He thinks dipping his toe in the darkness to be with V isn’t so terrible. However, V isn’t a toe-dip. They’re a deep-dive into the black. River starts falling, answering texts too quickly, giving in too fast, can’t say “no” to V.

V teases him that his code of ethics had a weak spine. Internally, it catches them off guard. Maybe this is how people are supposed to act when they really care about another person, without expecting something in return and all that. It’s not like V would know. And the look River gives when V says something absolutely filthy with a straight face is kind of irresistible.

V thought they’d enjoy ruining him, pushing him past his limits just to say, “I told you so.” All the while, River’s still polite, still checks, asks, holds back before doing anything impulsive. Makes V want to unravel him completely, to see a raw side. But when it started happening for real, it didn’t feel as good as they imagined. Turns out River likes a grip on his wrists and V isn’t sure they’re in any position to be the one in control. The one to say “love me” when they could be gone tomorrow. Under normal circumstances, V wouldn’t mind stringing someone along. With River, he’s just too genuine. Maybe they like him because he somehow still sees something good in V, or maybe it’s because V’s scared no one else will as much as River. Not even themselves.

[sunlightmurdock]

May I please request a spooky story with Jake and the prompt "summoning a demon"? Whether or not Jake is said demon is completely up to you 😉

Vee!! Was so excited to write this for you and I hope it didn’t disappoint! 🧡

In the shadows | Jake Seresin

spookweek masterlist

synopsis: Jake’s crush on a friend from work gets him into trouble

warnings: spooky! Darkness, ghostly themes, old house and slight discrepancies in the way roofs work!

Jake rolls his shoulders back and exhales, straightening up his flashlight. This is why he doesn’t offer to help people. Pulling the handkerchief back up over his nose, he ventures further into the dusty attic.

Light pours in from the window at the far side, making the darkness that surrounds the rest

He had practically made a point of picking on his squadron’s newbie’s, just a little bit. Making sure that they could handle themselves, you know? But not you. You had seen right through him from day one, and you’d quickly become more than just a friend from work.

He has met your parents, for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t even meet the parents of girls that he dates half of the time. 

And, he has enough respect for you to keep his feelings for you to himself.

Even when you ask him to do things like check out the draught coming from the boarded up crawlspace in the creepy fucking house you had just inherited. 

“Everything okay?” You call from your spot in the master bedroom, arms folded over your chest and your neck craned to peer into the darkened space above your head.

When you had moved in three days ago, this panel right above the closet in what would become your bedroom had been boarded up; heavy, worn, ugly planks of wood right over a sealed hatch. You would have left it alone, but there was a terrible draught coming from up there. 

It wasn’t exactly a professional job. Your Aunt J had always been crazy according to your mother, and you know that she would have much rather just nailed the stupid thing shut rather than paying someone with experience to come and fix the problem.

Probably an issue with the insulation in the attic. This house is old and tall, sturdy and settled into the ground where it stands. Jake knows a thing or two about construction, given that he comes from a family of contractors, and he has always been more than willing to help with your latest whims.

He squints across the attic, trying to make out whether that’s a grandfather clock under a dust sheet in the corner or something tall and leering, right out of his childhood nightmares.

It’s too late to bother cursing you for making him do this, and there’s no real point either way — he’d be here whether you forced, bribed or wished it of him. 

“Yeah, come here for a sec — watch your step.” Jake calls back to you, heading for the glimpse of light streaming from the far wall, where light spills through boards in the roof. He hears you faintly ascending the ladder, shoes against metal rungs. 

He feels eyes on his back and doesn’t bother turning to look. He shines his flashlight towards the weathered ceiling, where insulation is gapped and missing. There’s a straight view up to the sky from where he’s standing, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that this whole roof is going to need replacing.

“This isn’t going to be cheap work,” He huffs softly, pulling the handkerchief down from his nose and letting it hang around his neck. This time he hears your footsteps crossing the rickety floorboards, the thick dust softening the sound, the old house groaning softly at the intrusion. “Careful, those boards are—“

He turns his head and the words fail, falling dead on his tongue. 

There’s no one up here. 

He’s all by himself, and the loft seems darker now that he’s standing in the light. The shadows make it impossible to find the covered up furnishings he had seen when he’d first come up. The space seems longer.

Had he really strayed so far from that ladder?

“Are you talking to yourself up here?” This time it’s you. Your shoes on the rungs, your hands on the floorboards as you hoist yourself through the loft hatch, your footfall making that same dullened sound on the dusty boards as you step towards him.

“I thoug—” He stops and shakes his head. “I thought I heard you come up. Look, I couldn’t know unless I took a look at the other side — but this looks rotted through. I think the whole thing’s gonna need replacing.”

You’re looking around the space, wandering away from Jake with wonder, skimming your fingers across discolored dust sheets. “Fuck, really?”

He continues his amateur survey, reaching up to touch at the beams above his head. The wood is damp, and cold. It’s going to be a nightmare if the entire place is like this. A few minutes pass, maybe more. He can hear you screwing around behind him, becoming acquainted with this new space. 

Finally, he turns around with furrowed brows. “What are you messing with back there?”

You’re kneeling on the floor, facing that chilling, covered-up grandfather clock. With your back to him, Jake can’t make out what you’ve got in your hands, and you don’t make an effort to show him. “A book.”

His lips twitch, the flashlight falling to his side as he turns towards you. Feeling more himself, a slyness creeps up on him as he, in turn, creeps up on you. “Is it a scary kind of book?”

He’s just teasing. 

There’s a tremble to your voice as you answer him, you spine straight and your forearms prickling with a stiff chill. “Jake…”

He slows, cautious as he comes to stand beside you. One hand settles on your shoulder, his features creasing with concern. You turn your head, slow, like the hand of a ticking clock, and look up at him. Eyes stricken with fear, your face gaunt.

“I think something really bad happened in this house.” Your words are almost a whimper, barely audible.

Behind him, there’s a soft rustle and quiet flutter, like the sound of fabric falling. The sound of a dust-sheet falling. The old house’s terrifying quiet is shattered with a sudden tick. 

Your eyes are stuck on him. Darkness sits in your peripherals. 

Tick, tick, tick. The hands creep around with resounding rumbles. The book in your hands feels warm, and then hot and then scalding — burning at your skin. 

That’s when Jake hears it again, the sound of dullened footsteps across the thick, dust-coated floorboards. Heavier this time, thudding. Coming from those pitch-black shadows in the far side of the attic.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kinktober Day 1 - Voyeurism

Kate Laswell x Bricks (CIA Asset OC)

CW: Dub-con/Non-con voyeurism (one person is not aware they are being watched), surveillance, sex work, dirty talk, degradation, impact play, daddy kink, too many mirrors, too much setup and an abrupt ending, big dogs

“Got me Watcher?” Bricks covers the movement of her mouth by touching up her lipstick in the mirrored wall of the elevator.

“Coming in clear,” Kate answers. “Go ahead and run a final calibration on the lenses.” She marks the edges of the camera range as Bricks sweeps her eyes in a practiced pattern to confirm the fit and function of the contacts. When she crosses her eyes and sticks her tongue out, confusing the feed, Kate chuckles. “Save it for Mendoza.”

“Please,” Bricks snickers. “My best is wasted on him.”

The doors open. Two large men, Mendoza’s bodyguards, usher Bricks forward. Real professionals, Kate notes, neither of them letting their eyes linger on stunning legs or exposed cleavage. One waves a wand over her, hair to heels, and the other takes the clutch from Bricks’ hand. He rifles through it, then doesn’t give it back.

“My second best lipstick is in there,” Bricks protests, half-heartedly. “I’m gonna want that back, later.”

“You’ll get it back when you leave,” the man grunts. “Come with us please.”

“Give me doors,” Kate instructs as they proceed down the hall. The cameras flick almost aimlessly as her asset strides between her escorts, but Kate is ready. “Left again,” she murmurs, quickly tagging frames for review. “Good girl.”

Once Bricks is handed off to Mendoza, the real work starts. Dinner goes as expected. Mendoza brags and paws. Bricks is charming, flirty, and teasing. She plays every bit of her part while Kate half listens and reviews data on the guards. Contractors, she notes as Bricks titters about something. Mendoza is just oggling her tits, so Kate continues reading the dossier. Contractors, good ones. Ex-military, but unlikely to see Bricks for the threat she is. The only problem will be-

“Puppies,” Bricks coos, as two Rottweilers come trotting up to the table. “I love dogs. How old are they?”

“They’re trained as part of the security detail,” Kate states as Mendoza goes on about pedigree. “German commands.”

Bricks kisses one of the dogs on the snout. “Do they know any tricks?”

“They’re trained killers,” the mark brags. “Only listen to me and designated handlers.”

“The handler command is folge mir,” Kate provides. Luckily, Bricks isn’t able to comment on her abysmal accent. “Ruhig. Geh runter.”

It doesn’t take long for Mendoza to send the dogs away, tired of not being the center of attention. And Bricks plays him like a fiddle, drawing him all around the penthouse to give Kate sight lines, the layout, and an unobstructed view of the server room through the kitchen.

When he finally catches her, Kate cant help but snort. “Is he as bad a kisser as he sounds? Your not usually this all over the place."

Bricks doesn’t bother to hold back a soft laugh. Mendoza lifts his mouth from her neck with an almost affronted grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry,” she giggles, with a peck to his lips. “Ticklish, and I just feel good with you.”

“Can I make you feel better?”

“Here’s hoping,” Kate mutters as she counts server racks in Bricks’ periphery. The woman’s laugh rings off the marble counter tops.

Kate doesn’t bother watching the feed as Bricks kisses Mendoza down the hall, eyes closed to avoid any chance he might notice her contacts. When she opens her eyes again, Kate stifles a groan and pulls out her cigarettes. Mendoza’s bedroom has an entire wall of mirrors, and another on the wall above his headboard. Bricks kisses him some more, but in no time, she’s bent over the bed, looking at her own breasts nearly spilling from the top of her dress.

She’s there for… a lot longer than Kate expected. Whatever Mendoza is doing, she looks as bored as she ever does when she’s in character. Kate decides to step in when she moans, rote.

“Oh no,” Kate chuckles, grinning when Bricks’ eyes snap to her reflection. “I know you can do better than that. If I have to watch you have sex, you’re going to make it worth my while. Get that ass in the air, lets’s see if Mendoza can’t be good for something.”

Bricks’ next moan is much more resonant. Mendoza echoes her as he bends over her back, no doubt pressing his cock against her barely there panties.

“Ask for a spanking,” Kate commands, lighting a cigarette. “Ask nice, the way I like.”

“Please spank me, daddy,” Bricks moans, holding eye contact with the mirror, staring directly at Kate.

“Good girl, there you go,” Kate purrs, over Mendoza’s tiresome noises. “Too bad he’s going to be such a shit lay. You’re right, your best is wasted on him. Say thank you.”

Bricks hisses after Mendoza gives her three quick, sloppy strikes. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Fuck, you’re a slut, huh?” Mendoza flips her, and Kate laughs to see the mirrored tiles on the ceiling. “I can be your daddy, baby girl.”

“I’m tired of hearing his voice,” Kate scoffs. “Put his mouth to use.”

Bricks opts to grab a fistful of his hair and drag the man down her body. Kate gets to enjoy the view of her, chest heaving and disheveled as she winks up at her reflection. There’s no rolling eyes - there’s nothing of interest in the room, really, and Mendoza is apparently all noise and no skill.

“Touch yourself,” Kate commands. “Give yourself a show, beautiful.”

Bricks draws the fingers of her free hand down her neck, toying with her necklace before pushing the fabric of her dress down beneath full breasts. Kate makes an appreciative noise when she pinches a nipple. The woman in the mirror moans and arches her hips into the mouth between her thighs. Her eyes go half-lidded, when Mendoza pulls away to pant against her, one hand working its way up to prod at her. He groans something about “wet” and “tight,” like he had anything to do with the first and doesn’t understand the implications of the second.

“Please,” Bricks moans at her reflection.

“Oh,” Kate chuckles, “Is he really that good?”

“Roll over,” Mendoza growls as he stands. He’s dropped his pants and underwear.

“No,” Kate snorts. “I’m not watching your bored face as you compare him to Ghost. Ride him.”

All it takes is one skilled twist of Bricks’ hips before Mendoza is lying on his back, groaning under the woman Kate could command to kill him at any moment.

But Kate simply sits back in her chair. “Finish him off before I finish this cigarette, and I’ll let you come.”

Bricks narrows her eyes at the mirror. Kate can almost hear her calculating how long it’s been since she heard the click of the lighter. And then she balances on the balls of her feet and Kate grins as she watches the woman tear Mendoza’s orgasm from him with brutal efficiency.

“Good girl.”

[livingdxadwriter]

Twisted Love

Billy Russo X Latina!Mercenary!Reader

Summary: based on this moodboard murder date with Billy made by the love of my life @fluffyprettykitty thank you for the inspo

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors yall better dnfi, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, fingering, blood kink, choking, hair pulling, degradation, he calls her a whore and she likes it, allusion to gunplay & knife play, Billy and reader get turned on by questionable acts, def dark themes, dark!Billy, dead bodies, actual murder, many acts of violence, and Billy canonically likes it rough and painful, they're both just unhinged

Reader is referred to as she/her, speaks Spanish here and there and is described to have long hair. If this is not you, that is okay. This is solely based on the moodboard. I use no further specifications so you can enjoy it regardless :)

WC: 4k

A/N: I'm sorry in advance for the person that I am, I blame selene for encouraging this. You have been warned, you read under your own responsibility. I missed Billy and his murderous questionable kinks, so here we are. (If you actually enjoy this you I guarantee we will see each other in hell)

"Billy." You groaned quietly, the voice in your earpiece shutting up at the sharpness of your voice. 

"Yes darlin'?" 

"I can't focus on shooting your target if you keep saying how you're going to fuck me stupid tonight. Or how you've been really wanting to fuck me with your gun." You said the last part through your teeth as you did your best to remain professional and stay focused. You were a mercenary, sure, but you were a professional one. 

"If you keep talkin' back, I will do so much more than that. You like knives, don't you?" You could hear the smug smirk he probably had on his face through his voice, even through your earpiece.

You couldn't help but groan, your skin growing burning hot under all of your gear, and it was getting hard to control your breathing the longer he kept spitting filthy words at you. 

"This is your op, Billy. So we can either have phone sex or I can shoot your target. Can't do both." You rolled your eyes, adjusting your grip on your handgun as you tried to ignore the heat between your legs. You heard him chuckle. 

"You're gettin' paid either way darlin'," he reminded you. "But if you get a headshot, I'll give you your bonus." 

You actually laughed at this, a smirk of your own falling on your lips, "You know I never miss. Don't gotta double tap if I shoot 'em in the head." 

This was like a little game of yours. Any time Billy called you— for anything other than a good fuck— it was for a target mission off the books. Legally, he was just a private contractor. Private security was his main gig. But off the books, he was still getting paid to take out targets for his old military superiors. When someone pushed at his buttons too much, he called you. Because you were like a ghost, in and out, no one even knew you were ever there. And he thought your post-op adrenaline made for killer sex. You getting paid was just a courtesy on his end. You had honestly stopped caring about the money a long time ago. But he paid you your part anyway. So it was a win-win situation for everyone involved. 

"Mhmm,  I love it when you talk dirty." He sighed a long breath and you smiled to yourself, holding your gun close to your chest as you quietly walked through the dark, otherwise empty house. You could hear movement and indistinct voices on the other side of the wall

"I hear voices in the next room. Two targets so far. Standby for confirmation." Billy laughed at how official you sounded. You truly never did get rid of that military part of you. 

You peeked your head through the crack on the door of a large study. You chewed on your bottom lip as you tried to identify the targets. One was the man Billy had hired you to kill, a Marine Colonel that had gotten too greedy and was making threats. That didn't exactly sit well with Billy or anyone else involved. The other man, though, you weren't sure, but he also seemed to be military. 

"I'm looking at your target. But I'm not sure who the other one is. Looks military, though. What do you want me to do?" You whispered the question to Billy. He stayed silent for a few seconds. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, growing inpatient at his silence. But he spoke before you could yell at him. 

He groaned first, clearly something hadn't gone according to plan. "Just take both of them out. I don't need witnesses." 

"Whatever you say, pretty boy." You took in a deep breath, your heart starting to race as the adrenaline started to pump in your blood. 

"Remember, I want you in and out, don't worry about nobody else. That's what I'm here for, baby." 

"You're such a romantic, mi cielo." You bit your lip, you heard him chuckle in response. 

You waited another second, long enough for them to be close enough for you to take them out both at the same time before the other could draw their gun. Stealth was your specialty anyway. You were thankful the large doors didn't creak when you opened them further. Both men were facing away from you. Good. You took a step inside the study, and with a grin, you pulled the trigger. 

One. 

Two. 

Both men dropped to the ground with a thud. You sighed out the breath you had been holding and you slowly approached the two bodies. And you smiled at your work. 

Headshots. 

"I'm done here. Getting out now." You said to Billy. You heard him give you a quick hum of confirmation. 

You nodded to yourself, picking up your shell casings before you hurried out of the study. You went around through long halls for what seemed to be an eternity, until you came to the hall that led to the foyer of the house. 

Almost there. 

"Don't you fucking move." A voice rasped beside you. You saw out of the corner of your eye the barrel of a handgun. Well so much for Billy taking care of everything. 

You closed your eyes, slowly raising your hands to show your handgun. You turned your head enough to look at the man. More military. Great. This was going to be shit show. 

"Who the fuck are you? Why are you here?" The man screamed at you, his gun still on your face. You said nothing, you simply stared at him. He couldn't really see your face, not through your balaclava. Only your eyes were visible. "Give me that fucking gun and get on the ground. Now!" 

You stared at him, not moving a muscle. The only man you would ever get on your knees for was Billy. This one could shoot you for all you cared. 

"I said get on your knees or I'll shoot!' 

"Shoot me then." You said dryly, hands still in the air. 

Just get a bit closer, you thought. 

The man seethed at your response and stepped closer. Your lips irked up. You turned your body, your free hand gripping his gun and diverting it away from your head. The man squeezed the trigger. You grunted loudly, your ears ringing, but you didn't care. You wrestled with the man, landing a punch on his face that made his nose gush with blood. He stumbled backward but didn't fall. If anything, that made him more angry, and he lunged at you. He reached for the braid that stuck from under your balaclava and he pulled, really fucking hard. You grunted out in pain when he tugged your hair to drag you close enough for him to grab you. You fought against him, but you could only do so much against a man twice your size. His fist hit your jaw with enough force to make you dizzy for a second. And he took that opportunity to grab your vest and threw you over a nearby coffee table. Your body slammed so hard against it you ended up on the floor, with it in pieces. 

You weren't a religious person, but goddamn, you were seeing God right about now. You groaned in pain as you tried to push through. You tried to sit up as fast as you could, but the man was already towering over you, and a large boot forced you down by your chest. You forced down the cry of pain you wanted to let out, only breathing out sharply instead. You couldn't find your gun, and you had one, pointed right at your face now. 

"Fucking bitch." The man spat, leaning down to tear your balaclava from your face. You grunted, your face twisted into a scowl as he pulled it off. He scoffed. He was about to say something into his walkie when a voice you were all too familiar with caught his attention. 

"Hey." Billy stood a few feet away, having heard the gunshot and ran in. He didn't even flinch when he pulled the trigger. The man dropped dead a second later. 

You blew out a breath of relief, and you laughed, running a hand over your face. Well shit. You were hoping you wouldn't get any blood on yourself tonight. 

Billy was beside you in a split second, a large hand pulling you up to your feet. His eyes were big with a mixture of panic and anger, and he scanned your body for injuries. His hand landed on your lip, split and bleeding. His jaw ticked but you shook your head at him. 

"You okay?" He asked with a heavy breath. You nodded at him, your own hands touching his face. Blood stained his neck and part of his face. But you had a feeling it wasn't his. "Si?" 

You nodded again, "Si." 

Billy plastered a hard kiss on your lips, his hand holding the back of your head. You hummed against his lips, gripping his own vest. He pulled back after a few seconds, and his eyes landed on the dead man lying next to him. His neck twitched, and his jaw tightened as he pulled the trigger two more times. The man was already dead, Billy had shot him in the head the first time. But he needed to get that out of his system. 

"That was by far the hottest thing you've ever done for me." You breathed out, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You kissed him this time. Much harder. He groaned into your mouth, the side of his handgun brushing your hip as he gripped them with both hands. 

"Did you do what I asked?" He muttered against your lips. 

"Headshots. As always." You smirked against his lips, your skin growing hot just as the ache between your legs grew. 

"Mhmm, that's a good girl." He pressed another kiss to your lips. "Come. Gotta get outta here." 

You nodded, looking on the ground for a second for your handgun. Your eyes skimmed around for a bit before you smiled and you happily picked it up from the ground. When you looked up, Billy was looking at you with an irked eyebrow. 

"Que? It's my favorite gun. I wasn't gonna leave it here. It's got my fingerprints all over it." You shrugged, casually walking past Billy towards the kitchen. You came through that backdoor. It'd probably be easier to leave that way as well. 

Billy watched you with a raised eyebrow. It did always turn him on to see you in your tactical gear. He laughed to himself and followed you. He stayed close behind you, within hand reach at all times. He was so close that he actually bumped into your back when you stopped abruptly. You turned around, and one of your hands came to grip his vest while the other held up your handgun. He frowned, about to question you when you forcefully moved him to the side an inch or two. 

"Agh shit!" He grunted out, a bullet still catching the plate on his back with enough force to make him stumble. 

You kept your grip on his vest as you pulled the trigger twice and he heard a loud thud a second later. When he turned his head he saw a guard on his back, writhing in pain as blood gushed from his chest. Shit, he must have missed the guy when he was clearing the outside of the house. 

He draped a hand over his shoulder where the bullet hit, eyes never leaving you as you quietly walked over to the guard, gun held up. The man began to stammer, coughing up blood as he tried to crawl away. You blinked, head tilted and jaw tight as you pulled the trigger two more times. The man stopped moving with that second bullet. Your face twisted with disdain when you felt blood splatter on your face. Again. 

"Agh, puta sangre de mierda." This fucking blood. 

You harshly wiped your hand over your face, probably making a bigger mess than there already was. You flinched, your gun held up and stopped at Billy's chest. He had a wide smirk on his face, his hands raised, but he was just mocking you. 

"You wanna point that gun somewhere else, pretty girl?" He taunted with a smirk. You gritted your teeth and clenched your jaw. 

"Estás fucking sordo?" Are you fucking deaf? Billy couldn't speak Spanish. But he had learned to pick up on your angry Spanish over time. His smirk only grew wider when you holstered your gun and slammed your flat hands against his chest, attempting to shove him, but he didn't move much. "Did you not hear the motherfucker coming? Are you okay? Did the bullet go through the plate?" 

He found your angry concern amusing, endearing even. But the mocking smirk on his face only made your blood boil more. 

"Aw, my pretty mercenary is worried about me?" He taunted you more, and the fire in your eyes made him completely forget about the throbbing on his shoulder blade. Though he felt a different kind of throb when he felt your flat palm collide with his cheek. 

His eyes widened for a second as he processed the heat spreading through his cheek. He breathed a laugh, but it wasn't a humorous one. Not in the slightest. He ran his tongue over his lips, he could taste the smallest bit of blood. He counted in his head. Six guards altogether, three Marines inside. There were five dead bodies outside. Four inside. Good. 

He didn't say a word as he reached out to you, he grabbed the back of your braid and crashed his lips against yours with so much force it gave you whiplash. You didn't protest though, you welcomed it, actually. You gripped his vest tightly as he slipped his tongue inside your mouth. He hummed with satisfaction as you clung to his vest. He gripped your hair tightly as he made you back into the kitchen island behind you. 

You gasped into his mouth when you felt him hoist you up on the counter. 

"The fuck are you doing?" You pulled back enough to speak, not that you were arguing with him, you had been wanting him ever since you got here. He flashed you a sadistic grin as he gripped your vest and pulled you to the edge so that he was standing between your open legs. 

"Gonna fuck you stupid. That's what." He replied in a heartbeat as his fingers unbuckled the clasps of your vest. He tossed it aside and his eyes instantly landed on the blood splatters staining your jaw and neck. 

"Right here?" You gave him a wide eyed look, lips slightly parted as he ridded himself of his own vest, leaving him a plain black long-sleeve compression shirt. 

"Right here. You did everythin' I asked, and more. And you know I'm a man of my word." Your long-sleeve black shirt was gone next and his lips immediately attached to your jaw. "You don't gotta play innocent with me darlin'. Bet if I touch you you’ll be soaking wet." 

Fuck, you wished he didn’t know you so well. You were real fucking good at pretending with the whole world. But you couldn't pretend with him. And you couldn't deny that you had been wanting him to fuck you senseless the second you saw his face that day. And that tactical uniform of his, fuck it didn't help your cause in the slightest. 

"You know I always want you, doesn't matter when or where." You answered through a ragged breath, your eyelashes fluttered as he ran his tongue over the skin of your neck, and at the same time, he shoved his hand into your cargo pants, right past your panties.

"Yeah, you want me? You want me right now? Covered in blood and everythin'?" He pulled back enough to watch your face as his finger brushed over your cunt. And he was pleased by how right he was. You were so wet. Your mouth fell open as he slipped a finger into you with ease. "You are such a fuckin' whore. You've been this wet this whole time, haven't you? You just killed three men for me, and you're wet?"

God, you should feel disgusted with yourself, with him, but you felt nothing of the sort. If anything, it aroused you more. You ground your hips against his hand, desperate for more as your shaky hands fumbled with the belt of your cargo pants. You tugged until you ultimately got them off one leg once you managed to kick off one of your combat boots. Billy only watched with amusement as you struggled. But he otherwise didn't help you. He liked watching you struggle.  

"Goddamn you're so needy. Such a needy whore." He mocked you with a laugh, but he rewarded you with another finger nonetheless. 

"Yes, yes I'm a whore." You whined, holding yourself upright by gripping his shirt. "I'm your whore. Fuck— Please, I did good." 

Billy nodded at this, the pathetic pleads coming from your mouth making his cock strain against his cargos even more. How such a fierce and vicious mercenary like yourself could give in so easily to him he had no idea, but he sure wasn't complaining. Not in the slightest. 

"Yeah. Yeah, you did. I'm gonna give you exactly what you deserve, don't worry." He spoke through a groan, he rutted his palm against your clit, brushing against it as he curled his fingers against that one spot that made your thighs shudder. 

You bunched his shirt around your fist as your mouth fell open in a silent moan, your hips involuntarily grinding against his hand. Billy watched with amusement as you desperately rocked yourself back and forth on the counter while he undid his pants with his free hand. 

His fingers left you abruptly, leaving your chasing and jaw slacked. You whined, your mouth opening to curse at him but he was gripping your braid with one hand as he brushed his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick. 

"Yell at me again and I will fuck you with my gun until you cry." He spat, his jaw twitching as he forcefully slammed into you with a snap of his hips. 

You actually cried out this time, your toes curling and your nails dug into his chest. He pulled you to the edge of the counter until your legs hung loosely over his hips. He wound up his hand around your hair, pulling your head back as he rutted himself against you. He held your neck on full display as he dipped his head and ran his tongue over where blood stained your skin. 

"Fuck baby— you always feel so good. But goddamn, you fuckin' taste like heaven." He breathed against your skin, dragging his tongue from your pulse point to your jaw. 

Your fingers slipped into his hair, tangling around the chocolate locks to the root. And you pulled, and you pulled so hard he actually grunted in pain. 

"Dios Billy." You moaned, your lips against his ear, and he slammed into you so hard then he made you slide back on the counter. 

"Not God, baby. But I can be." He breathed out a laugh, his face pressed against your cheek as he wrapped his long fingers around your throat. "Trust me, darlin', when I'm done with you, not even God is gonna make you get outta bed tomorrow." 

You choked out a cry as he brought you closer against him— if that was even possible— and threw one of your legs over his shoulder. His cock hit so deep it actually made you roll your eyes back this time. 

"O-oh shit— shit Billy. I'm gonna come. Please, I wanna come." You spoke in between pants, what you could manage to say with his hand on your throat. You were holding on to him for dear fucking life, both arms thrown over his shoulder as if he was the only thing keeping you from slipping off the countertop. 

"You wanna come? My pretty mercenary wants to come? You earned it, didn't you?" He pulled back enough to watch your face, and he released the grip on your throat so you could respond. 

"Yes! Coño I earned it, please." You sounded so desperate but you didn't care, if there was one man in this world you could let yourself be vulnerable for it was Billy. 

"Mhmm, of course you did." He slipped his hand between your bodies and his thumb rubbed harsh circles on your clit and he drilled into you, pretty much holding you in one place with a tight grip on your ass. "Yeah, like that? Yeah just like that, come for me. You're good at following orders, so come." 

You were seeing white the second his thumb was on your clit and your fingers tugged at the roots of his hair as you came with a silent cry. You eyes were screwed shut and your mouth was hanging wide open as you gripped him tight enough to make his cock twitch. He breathed out a sigh of satisfaction and his lips curled up as he felt your wetness coat his cock. He looked down, and the sight of his cock slick with your come almost made him lose it. 

With a grunt he held you to his chest with a tight grip on the back of your neck and his fingers dug into your ass, holding you still for him as he fucked you. 

"Yeah, you take it just like that. Fuck— fuck that's a good girl." He moaned out the words, his head falling back ever so slightly. Enough for you to press your lips to his neck. But what made him completely lose it was your tongue, on his neck, similarly licking up the dry blood on his skin. "Ooh fuck me." 

His fingers dug deep into your scalp, enough for you to feel a slight burn, but you didn't fucking care. You dragged your lips up to his jaw as he fell still and you breathed out a laugh of satisfaction when you felt him spill himself inside you. He dragged his hips lazily, once, twice more before he just stood still. His fingers were deep rooted in your hair and his eyes were closed. You closed your own eyes as you pressed your forehead against his chest with a lazy smile on your face. 

Billy was silent, his fingers loosening on your hair until only his fingers were lazily dragging his fingers through the now loose strands. You kept your face on his chest, simply listening to his rapid heartbeat that matched your own. It slowly went steady, back to its normal rhythm. Only then Billy pulled back enough to look at your face. His dark eyes watched your face with something much softer and his fingers brushed over your bruised lip. 

"'M fine Billy. You've done worse." You sighed softly at him, your hand coming up to hold his wrist. He furrowed his eyebrows at you. 

"That's me, though. I've never hit you— without your permission anyway. But I've never bruised your face. It ain't the same." He frowned, and you couldn't help but grin at his protectiveness. 

"I said I'm fine, mi cielo." You squeezed his wrist and shot up your eyebrows at him with a suggestive smile on your face. "Does this place have a master bathroom?" 

Billy thought for a second, he had been here once at least before. He figured a house this big probably did have a large bathroom. 

"Probably, why?" 

"Wanna wash this blood off me?" 

Billy's scowl was quickly replaced by a wide smirk of his own and he could feel his cock twitch the slightest bit as your suggestive tone. 

"For this pussy? Baby, I'd kiss the fuckin' ground you walk on." 

Billy was a fucked up man that had met his fucked up match. And he'd be damned if he ever denied you anything.

[sigynpenniman]

If you ever in your life find yourself in a position where you’re in charge of any kind of event, feed the staff. Feed! The! Staff! Professional conferences usually have these massive buffet breakfasts & lunches and feed thousands of people and usually the A/V crew do not get food. Encore, the company that runs the A/V tech for just about every conference at every hotel in the country, doesn’t even stipulate plates for their staff in their contracts, and their staff are often asked not to use the hotel employee cafeterias because they’re technically “contractors” and they can get in the way of “real” hotel staff being fed. If you’re running a conference, wedding, large party, quince, anything, FEED YOUR TECH TEAM. A/V, photographers, video, hair and makeup, anyone you hire to help you, get them a plate. A/V in particular are extremely forgotten. It’s so silly and small but if this is in your power you’re doing real good by making it happen. If everybody’s eating, Joshua the overworked underpaid 24 year old encore sound tech also needs to eat. Feed him!

[jurijyuu]

Scratch an Itch Ch. 38: Meeting Again

Link to Ao3

Alastor’s POV

Another perfectly chaotic day on the Pentagram. In the sky, the red star shone a warm bright glow, bathing the cement and asphalt streets in an orange tinge, a mockery of a summer day though most sinners found it just as pleasant. He could spot at least five plumes of dumpster fire smoke in the distance. What a relatively peaceful day in this part of the city.

Fortunately, today’s schedule had to be adjusted at the last minute. Angel Dust was pulled to work and the princess didn’t want to exclude him from today’s teamwork redemption exercise of baking. He still wasn’t convinced that a bit of culinary practice would help cleanse one’s soul and he’d pointed that out to Charlie. If cooking and baking could lead to redemption, then shouldn’t he be the holiest of the crew by now?

A smirk tugged at his lips at his own wit and the princess’s creative reasoning. “It’s all about intention.”, she’d said. Hah! He could only imagine how many good intentions would go into those baked goods once Husker burned a batch and Niffty placed into the batter some of the chopped bugs she kept in a little jar. It would be so incredibly entertaining to watch.

With nothing planned for this morning, he’d taken the free time to check on a few of his contractors and review his peskier contracts. Even after all of that, it was still mid-afternoon and he was left to ponder what to do next. Bespoke leather shoes clacked against chipped cement as he sauntered through the city for something to catch his eye.

Just as well, a small bustling sound caught his attention from a small crowd dining at a local restaurant. The outside was lined in aluminum and red neon and from the faces stuffing themselves by the windows, it looked like a decent joint. His stomach chose just then to remind him that he hadn’t had lunch yet. Why take a break when he’d been enjoying his morning, now early afternoon? Of course, that thinking led to his now empty belly.

The light jingle of the shop bell signaled the abrupt halt of chatter as the more aware diners realized just who stepped into the place. Several seats were immediately vacated, the news of his last rampage at a cafe still fresh on wiser sinners minds. Unfortunately for the staff, they couldn’t leave, though a few went straight to the back before his eyes landed on them.

Several figures stood out within the diner, cloaked in black and wearing cartoonish screaming-faced masks, with little modifications for each individual. Something in the back of his mind itched at seeing them though he paid it little attention. Dark cloaks weren’t uncommon in the hellscape, neither were paper-white masks.

A small cloaked figure came up to him, their stature barely reaching above his waist. 

“Welcome to Billy and Stu’s. Table for one?” They had a feminine voice, almost squeaky. He eyed the area and found a table by the corner, only recently vacated if the half-eaten plate of food was anything to go by.

“Yes. I’d like that corner table, if it’s available.”

“It is now. Let me get that cleaned up for you, sir!” The pipsqueak piped up and ran her little legs to the table, scooping up the abandoned lunch and hastily thrown dollar bills with such swiftness that she was done in less than a minute. With a gesture of her hand, she offered him the seat and placed a menu for him. “I’ll bring your server here in a bit.”

He watched the little one disappear into the back. She was very professional, showing no sign of fear in his presence. He bit back a chuckle as her head looked like it floated on the tables given how short she was. 

Picking up the menu, he looked through the spread. The items had strange names he was sure were references to things that were lost to him. At least they had the mind to write descriptions.

A few minutes later, a taller cloaked figure approached his table and that itching in his mind started to spark a truly bright Edison moment. It started with a scent, so faint beneath sweat and diner grease but achingly familiar. And then it was a voice, muffled by the mask but one he knew very well. 

“Welcome to Billy and Stu's. Can I start you off with a drink?” 

He swallowed thickly behind a carefree smile. Well, this was unexpected, to say the least. What were the odds that he’d run into her here after so long without seeing her? Much more, she sounded pleasant. 

He could almost trick himself into thinking her customer service voice held genuine warmth and friendliness. Each syllable spoken in a polite manner that shook his core with the force of a sledgehammer. 

“How would you say the coffee is here?” He was quick to hide his surprise, slipping into cordial conversation even as his ears strained to pick up any changes in her tone. 

The black-mesh of the mask’s eye holes were too thick to see through. It did a fantastic job of concealing whatever face she was making as he prompted her. No doubt, she wasn’t as happy to see him as her voice made her sound.

“It’s the best diner coffee I’ve had both before and after I died. Not too acidic and we just brewed a new pot so I can get you a fresh cup.” A familiar ache of crumpled static and violent shocks sparked in his chest. He hadn’t heard her regard him so nicely in so long. The corners of his mouth tugged wider, wondering if she was feeling any irritation upon seeing it. Could her professionalism be stronger than her hate for him? If it was, then it wasn’t beneath him to take advantage and see how long she could bear to keep up her professional mask.

“Excellent. Get me a cup. I’ll need a few more minutes to look through the menu.”

“You got it. Let me know if you have any questions.” 

A thrill shot through him, sharp and sweet. Nothing changed in how she addressed him, almost happy, almost chipper, like a good little waitress. If he recalled correctly, whenever she pitched her voice like that, the corners of her mouth tugged up, the motion crunching her eyes a little into a rather adorable smile. 

He could envision it so clearly in his head, she must be anything but delighted to see him. Her eyes wouldn’t be that gentle sparkle she showed him once she’d taken him into her circle. Rather, they would look at him coldly, a silent anger in them. 

A cold gaze and a pretty smile. A shiver raced down his back unexpectedly, his heel digging harder into the white tile under the table in his startle. The image was certainly better than the frowns and sneers she’d sent him. And it had been a while since he’d felt a rush from something so simple as a person’s smile, imaginary as it was.

Reaching into her cloak, he realized that the bottom half was an apron that blended well with the black uniform. From the many pockets he could now recognize, a rolled napkin and silverware were placed on his table before she sauntered away to get his drink, her pace calm and unbothered. 

Unbothered by him?

He just about laughed out loud. Good. This was brilliant. Why hadn’t he thought of entering her place of work before? With how much fun he was suddenly having, he had to the inside of his lip to remain poised. This was…an unexpected treat, one that still shined despite the month he’d spent forgetting about it.

Rosie’s voice screamed at him in his mind, “Leave her alone!” 

He could see his dear old friend in his mind wilting with disappointment as his kind was made up. He mentally apologized. Surely, this much indulgence would be fine? Just a little. He wouldn’t do more than be her customer.

[pepaldi]

As we chat, the postman rings the bell, delivering packages. Council tree surgeons are working on the road outside. My son needs water, words of comfort, possibly he just wants another good long look at Capaldi. I’ve never interviewed anyone in my own home before and the limitations of the format are becoming apparent. But Capaldi seems to respond well to the setting and its lack of frills. His adult daughter and her family have been visiting, brand new baby in tow. When I apologise for all the noise and interruptions, Capaldi says it’s nothing compared to a newborn.

He and Collins were young parents themselves when his directing career fell apart. Arriving back in London from the disastrous Manhattan trip, “The initial feeling was shock. Then a pragmatic survival instinct kicked in.” Capaldi rejoined the auditioning circuit. “I was a psychiatrist in Midsomer Murders. I was a beekeeper in Poirot – AN Other Actor. Someone else would have turned down these parts first.” Collins, until that point an actor, too, decided to pivot into development and production, a career move that has worked well for her.

*

“This business is full of people who are not the real thing,” he says, “people I perceived to be artists ’cos they had posh accents, but who didn’t have it, they just sounded like they did.” He goes on to tell a tantalising but intentionally vague story about a major star he worked with, someone who revealed themselves through the course of an acting collaboration to be a dud hiding in plain sight. He won’t provide details (“Too easy to figure out. When everyone’s dead I’ll tell you”), but he says the experience changed him professionally, leaving him more aware of his own limitations, but grateful to have a little vinegar and grit in the mix. “There’s a kind of smoothness, a kind of confidence that comes from a good [paid-for] school. That’s what you’re struck by: they seem to know how to move through the world recognising which battle to fight, where to press their attentions. But it can make the acting smooth, which to me is tedious. I like more neurosis. More fear. More trouble, you know?”

*

In the new TV show, Criminal Record, he explores a more mortal kind of ageing, life’s third act, its inevitable professional humblings. Capaldi plays a London DCI in his 60s, coming to the end of a career, already moonlighting as a private security contractor, intimidated by the thrust and purpose of a younger colleague at the Met played by Cush Jumbo. As Jumbo’s character grows in confidence, Capaldi’s shrinks. It is a paradox of experience he can relate to. “I find the older I get, the closer I am to who I was,” he says.

I ask him to explain.

“Like I’m returning to… ‘roots’ is the wrong word. I feel more and more like my mother and father, more and more keenly aware of the values they had.” He provides an interesting example, how he has become all thumbs around the act of tipping in restaurants: “I can be in a complete sweat about that.” He can imagine his parents, both dead now, in a similar muddle. “From the background we come from, you can have a bit of anxiety about coming across as grand. So you have to allay that by making sure you are communicating with everybody, all the time.”

Capaldi shakes his head, chuckling softly. He has finished his coffee. He’s about to put on his big coat, say goodbye to my son, and walk back through Whoville to his home and his family. Before he leaves we return to the subject of actors from privileged backgrounds. He says he feels mean, like he took unfair advantage of them in their absence. “It’s not their fault,” he says. “It’s just that there’s less and less of my lot in the arts.” And this concerns him, he continues, because “people of all backgrounds are sophisticated, are interesting, are equally prone to tragedy and joy. Any art that articulates that is a comfort. Art is the ultimate expression of you are not alone, wherever you are, whatever situation you are in. Art is about reaching out. So I think it’s wrong to allow one strata of society to have the most access.”

He nods, feeling he’s expressed himself better. I agree.

The whole interview over at The Guardian.

[screenmobile]

Can You Enclose a Screened Porch? Here’s What You Need to Know

A screened porch is great for enjoying the outdoors without dealing with pesky bugs, but what if you want more protection from the elements? Whether you’re looking to extend your living space, create a cozy sunroom, or add value to your home, enclosing a screened porch can be a game-changer. But is it a simple weekend project, or are there more factors to consider? Let’s break it down.

Why Enclose a Screened Porch?

People decide to enclose their porches for all kinds of reasons, but here are some of the most common ones:

Weather Protection – Rain, wind, and even pollen can make a screened porch less enjoyable. Enclosing it provides shelter.

Year-Round Use – Instead of only enjoying the space in mild weather, you can use it during colder months too.

Increased Home Value – A fully enclosed porch can be a major selling point for future buyers.

Better Insulation – Whether you're keeping out the cold in winter or the heat in summer, an enclosed porch can help regulate temperatures.

More Privacy – Glass or solid enclosures offer more seclusion compared to a screened space.

Extra Living Space – It can function as an extended living room, office, or even a playroom for kids and pets.

So, if you’re tired of sweeping out leaves every morning or dodging rain showers, enclosing your porch might be exactly what you need.

What Are Your Enclosure Options?

Not all porch enclosures are the same, and your choice depends on what you’re hoping to achieve.

Glass Windows (Three-Season or Four-Season Rooms)

This is a popular choice if you want to turn your screened porch into a sunroom or all-season space. You can go with single-pane windows (great for mild climates) or double-pane insulated glass if you want to keep it cozy year-round.

Pros:

Keeps out rain, wind, and pollen

Adds insulation for better temperature control

Looks sleek and modern

Cons: 

More expensive than some other options

Requires structural adjustments if adding heavy glass

Vinyl or Acrylic Panels

If glass sounds too pricey, vinyl or acrylic panels can be a more affordable alternative. They still provide protection from the elements but aren’t as heavy-duty as glass.

Pros:

Budget-friendly

Can be removed for airflow during warmer months

More durable than screens

Cons:

Scratches more easily than glass

Not as insulating

Plexiglass or Polycarbonate Panels

These materials are somewhere between glass and vinyl—lighter than traditional glass but sturdier than vinyl panels. They offer great UV protection and won’t shatter like standard glass.

Pros:

Stronger than acrylic or vinyl

Less expensive than glass

Good UV protection

Cons:

May discolor over time

Can be more expensive than basic vinyl panels

Full-Wall Enclosures (Turning Your Porch into an Extension of Your Home)

For those who want a fully enclosed space that blends seamlessly with the rest of the house, adding full walls and insulation can transform your porch into a true home addition. This approach requires more construction but gives you a permanent new room.

Pros:

Adds the most value to your home

Completely shields from outdoor elements

Can be insulated and heated/cooled

Cons:

The most expensive option

May require building permits and contractor work

What About DIY vs. Hiring a Pro?

You might be tempted to grab some materials and tackle the project yourself, but should you? It depends on the complexity of your enclosure.

When DIY Works Well

If you're adding removable vinyl panels or simple window inserts.

If you're comfortable with minor framing adjustments.

If you're replacing old screens with sturdier materials like plexiglass.

When You Should Call a Professional

If you’re converting the space into a fully insulated room.

If you need electrical or HVAC work.

If local building codes require permits for structural changes.

If you want a high-end, polished look that increases your home’s resale value.

Hiring a professional (like Screenmobile South Bend) ensures that your enclosed porch meets safety standards, looks great, and lasts for years.

Keep in mind that labor costs, permit fees, and additional upgrades (like heating, cooling, or flooring) can push the price higher.

Key Things to Consider Before Enclosing Your Porch

Before you jump in, here are some factors to think about:

1. Local Building Codes & Permits

Some cities require permits for major modifications. If you’re in South Bend, check with your local zoning office to avoid fines or headaches down the road.

2. Insulation & Heating

If you plan to use the space year-round, you’ll need insulation and possibly a heating/cooling system. A mini-split unit or space heater might do the trick.

3. Flooring Considerations

Your current flooring might not be designed for an enclosed space. If your porch is over a crawl space, you may need to add insulation or a subfloor to prevent drafts.

4. Budget & Long-Term Plans

Think about whether this is a short-term upgrade or a long-term investment. Spending more upfront for quality materials can save you from costly repairs later.

Is Enclosing Your Screened Porch Worth It?

Absolutely—if it fits your lifestyle and budget. Whether you're creating a cozy sunroom, a bug-free retreat, or an extended living space, enclosing a screened porch can bring serious benefits. Just weigh your options, plan carefully, and consider working with professionals like Screenmobile South Bend for a smooth process.

Ready to transform your porch? Get started with a consultation and bring your vision to life!

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 26 - house flipper

pairing: house flipper/fixer upper!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which your boyfriend needs your expertise, for once

word count: 1333

warnings: lots of talk of plumbing, house flipping, everything in that realm. relationship struggles and communication hurdles, but they work on it... is that a warning?

spence-tober masterlist

“Hello?” You greeted as you walked through the unlocked door to a small fixer upper house. You had knocked beforehand, but you figured through the sounds of clangs and loud equipment that no one was able to hear you anyway.

The house was obviously under construction and you knew that too. The walls were not painted and you could see the spackle covering some holes. Some clear tarps were laid down over some sections of the floor and there were half taken down cabinets in the kitchen. 

“Hey, pretty girl. Thanks for coming.” 

You turn around and see Derek Morgan, the person who texted you to come over as soon as you got off work and then sent you the location. Not that you needed it.

Spencer had always put the address of the house he’s currently working at on a little post it note just in case you ever needed to find or reach him. 

You smile at the tall, muscular man in front of you, “No problem, at all. Where’s the problem?” You ask him while holding your basic tool box that you keep in your car.

When Derek had texted you about a little problem that Spencer and him had been having at their latest fixer upper house with the plumbing in the main bathroom, you had already been out the door at work and figured that the problem wouldn’t be too bad of a fix that you needed a bunch of professional equipment.

“Over here.” Derek gestures and then leads you through a long hallway down to the primary bedroom of the house, being careful to step over the broken pieces of old tile before swinging an arm over to the entrance of the bathroom.

“Morgan, I really think I can just-” Your boyfriend says, not realizing your presence since his head and upper body are contorted under the sink.

“Don’t touch that.” You intercept his sentence, quickly realizing what Spencer was about to touch.

Unfortunately, your sudden interception caused Spencer to bump his head as he heard your voice and a groan sounded out in the bathroom.

You wince for him and help him out of the tiny sink space, rubbing his head where you know a bruise would soon form.

“Who-” Spencer starts questioning, surprised to see you. “Why-” He stutters, “How-”

You shake your head and smile at your boyfriend who’s quite confused. “Derek called me. Said that you have a sink problem.”

Spencer whips his head towards Derek and gives him an accusing and incredulous glare, “I told you we didn’t need to call her.”

It doesn’t surprise you that Spencer didn’t want your help. It wasn’t like he thought he had the skills to fix the problem especially since it isn’t exactly in his wheelhouse. You knew it was because he didn’t want you to think he was dating you or using you for your skill set.

You never thought that he would, but Spencer had met you at a mutual friend’s open house where you had been the main plumbing contractor on the job. Once you had started dating, someone made an off handed comment that it was perfect that you both got together. A plumber and a house flipper! 

Since then, Spencer had been adamant that he was dating you for you and went as far as dealing with your coworkers and colleagues than yourself even if it cost him more money.

“Well judging by the way you were about to flood the entire bathroom, I think you need a little bit of help.” You comment, looking about where Spencer was about to implement his ‘fix’.

Spencer’s face flushes and Derek sends a joking glare at your boyfriend. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it from here.” You assure, holding up your portable tool kit with everything you’ll need for the job. 

Spencer steps aside at your insistence and you are able to grab the small flashlight from your kit, luminating the dark cabinet of the vanity sink.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” You ask the two men as they step aside in the bathroom to give you room.

“The water.” Derek says pointing at the faucet, “Won’t turn on at all. The tub and shower works. So does the toilet and the rest of the house, but the sink just doesn’t get water coming through it.”

You hum and then retract yourself from the sink and step out to test the faucet for yourself. Confirming that it indeed doesn’t work, you turn your attention back to the sink and set out your tool box.

“Alright,” Derek says, brushing off the imaginary dust from his hands. “Ima set off for today. Got a dinner date with Savannah.”

Both you and Spencer wave him off and with a final instruction for Spencer to lock up, you are left alone.

At first, the gentle twists of metal against metal and your elbows scraping against the wooden cabinets are all that can be heard in the bathroom. You know Spencer is still with you, you can sense his presence. 

“You know,” You start to say, maybe for the thousandth time at this point. “You can just call me if you need help with the plumbing. I’m happy to help.” You offer once again.

This has gone on for two years since you have been dating and multiple houses in which you find out afterward that a plumbing incident had occurred and one of your fellow plumbing coworkers had been called to deal with it.

“I know.” Spencer says, almost disappointed with himself.

As much as you both have communicated your separate struggles, it’s still hard for Spencer to send that perfectly crafted text to you asking for help or to have his finger press that call button connecting him to you.

You work in silence, the problem not having been a large or complicated one so it’s quickly resolved. Perhaps maybe thirty minutes go by. Spencer doesn’t leave but also doesn’t try to make conversation, knowing that you prefer to work in silence. 

“Alright,” You say, groaning as you shimmy out from under the sink. No matter how long you’ve been doing this job or how many sinks you’ve slinked under, your bones still creak and crack in protest to small spaces.

Spencer offers you a hand and you shoot him a grateful smile. It was not uncommon for Spencer to give you a back rub at your shared apartment after a long week at work. You did the same for him after a particularly busy demo week.

“That should do it.” You say, confirming your work done by pulling the faucet handle towards you, a smile grows on both of your faces as the water runs smoothly through the tap.

“Thank you, really. Thank you.” Spencer says giving you a hug from behind. His long arms wrapping around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder.

Spencer wasn’t a very big fan of PDA, but in private, he was a touched starved clingy man who would wrap his entire body around yours if he could. Always a hand somewhere on your body and you were no stranger to any type of kiss.

A peck. A butterfly kiss. An eskimo kiss. Any of them Spencer could get behind. 

“It’s no problem.” You respond, “Just, call me next time? Promise.” You ask of him.

You feel him nod against your skin and you smile in response. “Okay, let’s go home then. I have the day off tomorrow.” 

Spencer hesitates and doesn’t unwrap from your frame, “What if-“ He starts on.

“What if you come back with me tomorrow? You could help and give us the okay to keep working on this bathroom?”

His voice is full of uncertainty and hesitation and you’re sure there is nervousness blooming in his chest. You comfortingly caress and rub your hand on his and turn your head to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“I’d love that, Spence.”

a/n: i am so close to the finish line now. just gotta close out the rest of the one shots and then ill be done! i could procrastinate the rest until they need to come out (i'm constantly a week ahead and then schedule) but i have some other things popping up with a deadline so ima try to knock these out!

[petri808]

@allaboutnalu Gift for @genavere If you have an AO3 account let me know the user name and I can tag you there. Thanks!

Happy Holidays! 🤶🏻🎄🎁 Hope you enjoy!

For being Christmas Eve, the weather is semi-warm compared to the meteorologist’s news report that morning. Not that it mattered too much, as Lucy rolls her blouses long sleeves up to her elbows, because she always wore long sleeves, long pants, or long skirts anytime she left her apartment. People often stare as they pass to the strange young blonde wearing such warm clothes during the scorching summer months, so the autumn and winter months give her a reprieve from those second glances. But she’s gotten used to the attention or at least has learned to ignore them.

Today’s outfit consists of a dark-reddish-colored, soft cotton, long sleeve, loose-fitting, high-necked turtleneck top that covers all the way up to the jawline, paired with dark gray yoga pants, and fur-rimmed, mid-calf boots. Casual, nice, but not too attention seeking. Oh, no, attention is the last thing Lucy wants from anyone. She isn’t quite an agoraphobic, but close enough. Lucy works from home as an independent contractor editor and article writer for field journalists, a ghost writer who takes all their notes and information and writes a draft that she sends back to the journalist for publishing. Her one condition is to not be listed in the article as a contributor. Most of her groceries are delivered and she doesn’t travel unless necessary. 

One of the few times she leaves home during the week is to eat at a restaurant when she’s tired of cooking and since it’s Christmas, why not splurge a little instead of getting fast food. Which is where she’s heading now, to an upscale but family-friendly type place, the staff has always been nice and accommodating due to her circumstances. It’s a bit sad to be eating out on Christmas Eve alone, but as she walks in on this Wednesday early evening, the server, recognizing her, immediately guides Lucy to a booth in the back corner of the restaurants dining room. It’s her favorite table because the booth partially faces away from the other diners and it’s not near a street-facing window. The few times that it was already taken, and she had to sit at a different table, it was uncomfortable to eat with the feeling of eyes boring into her back. Whether or not people are looking, past traumas have Lucy always in an anxious, self-conscious state of mind, and it’s only when alone can she relax. 

As she waits, Lucy notes the festive decorations they’ve added all around the room. It’s a mix of tradition and modern chic, perhaps professionally done, to match the fine dining restaurant. There’s a red-tinged, flocked, Christmas tree with slow-pulsing white, fiber-optic lights next to the host stand at the front, decorated with silver, black, and red glass ball ornaments, and topped with a silver star. Over every other booth along the walls there is a green holly bough with red and white berries, short silver pick sprays that are sparingly pierced between the leaves, and finished with a black velvet ribbon where the top meets the hanging wire. On each table, the normally white napkins are replaced with a red one that has an embroidered silver bell on each corner. Last year, the napkins were green with white snowflakes. 

About 15 minutes later, the server brings Lucy’s meal. Her choice of dinner is a shrimp scampi with linguini noodles and side of garlic toast, the best she’s tasted out of any other restaurant’s recipes. After a few bites and a sip of wine, she’s slowly easing up in the quiet place. Soft spoken conversation can be heard around the room along with typical restaurant sounds, clinking dishes, register beeps, order up calls, and the faint sound of the cars driving by on the street next to the building. It’s only 4:30 pm, not even dark yet, but the dinner rush diners are starting to trickle in, causing the servers to pick up their paces. Lucy’s looks at her phone as she finishes up her meal. She’ll leave within the next 30 minutes to get away before it turns into a full house. 

Everything is going smoothly when suddenly, Lucy’s ears perk up to a rising sound of abnormal noises she’s never heard in the restaurant before. Guest’s closer to the front are starting to look around and the conversation tones grow in both volume and tone. Banging sounds, dishes falling and crashing, Lucy hears a scream and a thud, and then— “FIRE!” She hears. Again, the domino of screams, fire, fire, evacuate! Oh, God, she can smell the smoke! Panic grips the restaurant and all hell break loose as patrons and employees are running for exits, people and tables are being knocked over, trampled, and pushed around in their bid to reach the door.    

A loud whooshing roar fills Lucy’s ears and her vision somehow shifts back to the living room of her old home, sending her pulse into a sprint, yet every muscle in her body grinds to a screeching halt, a fork gripped in mid-air, eye’s wide and mouth agape. This can’t be happening! Every second counts when there’s a fire, something she knows better than most, but her legs refuse to move. She doesn’t even know where the fire is coming from, so what if she leaves the current safety of the booth and burns before she can reach the front door?! As tears stream unencumbered Lucy finally gathers her strength, only to slip underneath the table.

It’s no use, all she can hear is the phantom crackling of a fire burning its way through a structure. Trapped. The smoke is growing thicker. ‘Get down, get down,’ her dead mother’s voice rings in her ears; they can’t get out of the house! Lucy pulls her legs to her chest and wraps her arms around to protect them, head down, resting her forehead in the slight space above her chest. She fights a losing battle to slow her panic breathing despite it getting harder to breathe as the smoke envelopes her in a black, greasy haze that with each choking cough burns the throat and stings the eyes. ‘It hurts mama! It hurts!’ The scars throb on the left side of her body, burning from the phantom heat, and a phantom smell of burning flesh and hair are all Lucy can perceive, swallowing her back up again. This is it. Fate has come to finish what it started; she muses as the smoky darkness chokes the life out of her. 

The street outside is cordoned off by the police to keep spectators out of the way of the emergency services. Fire trucks arrive within five minutes of the call and immediately speak to the chef and staff who explain the fire is in the kitchen. The kitchen staff has tried their best to put out the grease fire, but the flame-retardant spray couldn’t reach far into the vent above the grill where the buildup of goopy grease and oil from not being cleaned properly cling to the sides. So far, the flames are isolated to the kitchen, but the oily black smoke from the burning grease has turned into a layer of grimy fog that burns when breathed in or gets into the eyes. That stinging pain is what ultimately drives the cooks out. 

While firefighters rush towards the kitchen, one is tasked to do a sweep of the building. Even though the waitstaff believe they’ve gotten everyone out, they can’t take the chance of anyone being left behind. It’s now been about ten minutes since the 911 call, so the clock is ticking against anyone trapped inside. The smoke can easily suffocate, and the oily air could do lasting damage to the throat and eyes. 

Natsu Dragneel starts by checking both restrooms for guests, then sweeps his flashlight beam under each table and booth as he passes by, meticulously one by one, left, right, left, making his way towards the rear of the dining room. As a firefighter his concerns are life first, property second and each time they are called to a scene with potential people inside, his fear is being the one to find someone he cannot save. It’s the fear of every emergency responder not to be that one and just as he’s about to breathe a sigh of relief to reach the last booth without a victim, his heart stops cold when his light falls on a curled-up body under the table. 

“I’ve got one!” Natsu quickly screams into his radio to put the EMTs on notice. It’s a young woman and based on the soft rise and fall of her chest she’s still alive. “She’s unconscious!”

The space under the table is a bit tight for him to get under with all his equipment, so he drags the table from the booth and shoves it out of the way. He then sweeps the limp woman into a bridal carry and rushes out of the building to an awaiting ambulance, placing her onto the gurney. As the EMTs immediately get to work, Natsu finally has a chance to see what the woman looks like. Spots of blonde hair gleam in the sunlight through the patches of greasy soot clinging to strands and skin. She looks around his age, average height, and weight with a beautiful figure, maybe a bit younger but it’s hard to tell with the oxygen mask obscuring some of her facial features. Something catches his attention, partially blocked by her hair, but if he’s not mistaken there’s a patch of distorted skin peeking out from the turtleneck along the side of her neck, perhaps a burn? 

She’s breathing normally with the help of the mask but is still unconscious and the EMTs are not quite sure why since there doesn’t appear to be anything else physically wrong with her aside from some redness in her throat and eyes from the carbon monoxide and smoke. Since the fire never reached her, there’s also no burns. Why didn’t she evacuate, Natsu wonders. He checks the crossbody purse on her body and finds a wallet. ‘Lucy Heartfilia,’ he reads off her I.D. Most people’s reactions to a fire are to flee, but there are some who freeze, so is that what happened to Ms. Heartfilia? 

“Oi! Dragneel!” 

“Huh?” Natsu is so wrapped up in the mysterious woman that he’s forgotten he’s still on the scene. “Oh. Yeah?” He yells back to his boss Captain Guildarts. 

“You, done with the vic’ yet?” The captain questions.

Natsu returns the I.D. back to her wallet. “Yeah, why?” 

Guildarts points up. “Go check out the roof vent, see what condition it is for the report.”

“If it’s been cleaned or not?” Natsu clarifies. While the grill hood should be cleaned once a month, the whole venting system in a kitchen should be cleaned out fully at least once a year. Even aerosolized grease and oil can stick to the smooth sides of the metal duct work, which can catch fire under the right conditions and threaten the entire building.

“Yeah.” The captain responds. 

“Got it boss.” Natsu starts off towards an access ladder on the side of the building, but his boss isn’t finished. He pauses. 

“And Dragneel. When you’re done with that, go on and check on the victim at the hospital,” Guildarts winks knowingly. 

It makes Natsu flush. “T-Thanks,” he fumbles, then breaks into a gaily sprint. 

That Guildarts, Natsu muses. The guy is always chasing women, so no wonder he caught on to his intrigue. Nothing wrong with wanting to check on a victim, public service is their duty after all. Oh, who is he kidding himself, the pretty blonde has caught his eye, and he wants to learn more about her. Why was she eating alone at the restaurant? Her hair was up in a messy bun, but that only added to her charm, and the blue cat earrings were cute. It’s a warm day too, yet she’s wearing long pants and a long sleeve high turtleneck top. That’s unusual, and he just happened to notice no ring on her finger. How is someone like her single? … Wait. Natsu stops moving and looks around. He’s standing on the roof in front of the vent, but all he’s done is zone out thinking about the woman. Back in your pants, Dragneel. He shakes it off and gets back to work checking into the vent duct. It’s dirty, but not too bad. He’ll tell his boss to recommend they get it cleaned anyways and make sure to be more stringent in their cleaning schedule. Okay, now, back to the station to change, shower, then head to the hospital. ‘I hope she’ll be awake when I get there.’

When Natsu arrives at the hospital, he uses his privileges as a firefighter to get in to see the woman. The rules are only family members during non-visiting hours, but buttering up the nurses isn’t difficult considering he’s showing concern for a victim. He sneaks a peak at her charts and sees her prognosis. Smoke inhalation, elevated levels of the stress hormone cortisol, redness in the eyes from the smoke, they believe she passed out from hyperventilating, unsure of why she is still unconscious, but overall healthy and will hold overnight for observation. She’s hooked to an IV drip with some antibiotics to ward off potential infection and has a nose tube set up just to assist. He mumbles to himself. “Next of kin contacted,” the notes say, but doesn’t report if the person answered, and obviously the room is empty except for him. Add another check mark to the mystery woman.

‘She just looks like she’s sleeping,’ he notes her relaxed brows, ‘peaceful,’ really, like the day’s events were just an illusion. Natsu sits down on a chair next to the left side of the bed closest to the window simply observing, but that’s when something on her neck catches his attention. Right, and now that he can see it better, it’s definitely a burn, a large burn that travels up into the hair line at the back of her nape and down, disappearing into her gown. “Whoa…” he breathes out. That’s a serious injury, it must have something to do with her reaction at the restaurant. ‘I wonder how far down it travels…’ Natsu’s curiosity grows. He looks up from his seat to see if anyone is walking by the room, and when the coast appears clear, he slowly, gently lifts the blanket that covers her arms and body. It does in fact disappear into the gown where he can’t see, but what is revealed is more burn scars on the upper part of her left arm above the elbow and smaller groupings on her legs. He can’t see above her mid-thigh how high up the scars go, but there are also varying sized spots on her calf, shin, and ankle. 

A small cloud of moisture gathers in Natsu’s eyes as he slumps back into the chair, realizing just why she wears clothes that cover so much skin. This poor woman, Lucy, has been through a bad fire before, no wonder she panicked in the restaurant. Everything makes sense now. The hyperventilating, increased cortisol, freezing and hiding under the table. Even though the fire hadn’t reached her, she reacted to it. Likely the smoke alone set her off. Natsu reaches under the blanket and takes hold of Lucy’s limp hand. So small and delicate in his larger hand that it swallows hers up. The fact that she’s been through such a harrowing event before and still carrying on sits well in Natsu’s heart. Lucy probably covers up in shame, but to him, they’re a survivor’s badge of honor, and there’s nothing ugly about that. He rests his arms on the bed and puts his head down for the time being to get some rest too. Since no one else is here for her, he’ll be the one she wakes up to.

By the time Lucy wakes up, the sun has risen and brightly shines in through the sheer-curtained window on her bed. ‘Huh? Bed?’ The last thing she remembers is passing out in the restaurant, yet now here she is feeling refreshed. How many hours has it been, at least 13 or 14 based on it being night anymore! The brilliant white room is silent except for the soft whirring sounds of the breathing machine and light beeps of the heart monitor. She can feel the small sting of the IV line stuck in her arm and the stranger sensation of the nose tube, but other than that, the only other discomfort is a mildly irritated throat and burning sensation at the corners of her eyes— Eh? And a weight on her hand? Why is hand heavy? Lucy tries to move her hand, but something not only holds it back, but squeezes! Quickly, her eyes pop open, looking towards the source.

“Eeek!” Lucy squeals and yanks her hand away, the loose nose tube pulling off her face as she scrambles against the headboard from the strange man sleeping next to her bed! “What are you doing in my room!”

The shrill sound so close to his ear woke Natsu with such a start, he’s instantly awake and jumps out of the chair. “A call?!” He thinks it’s the alarm at the station alerting them to another fire. “I’m up! I’m up!”

“Who are you!” Lucy snaps again. “Why are you in my room?!”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Natsu stumbles over his words as his brain gets back on track. “Sorry,” he plops back onto the chair. “Didn’t mean to scare ya, but I’m the guy who pulled you out of the restaurant.”

Oh? Oh… “Firefighter?” She asks hesitantly, or could it be a cop? 

“Yeah!” Natsu smiles and nervously scratches the back of his neck. “That’s me.”

But still, “why are you here?” It’s hours later! “Is it normal to check on us?”

“Not normally,” he admits. “Just… well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Kinda had me worried a bit ‘cause the doctors said you should’ve woken up a lot sooner, and I wondered if it has something to do with that,” he points to her neck. “This isn’t your first fire, is it?”

Stunned, Lucy is not sure how to respond. This guy is a stranger, so why would she talk to a stranger, and yet he seems so earnest to have waited all this time for her to wake up, on Christmas of all days! She relaxes back into a cross-legged position. “What’s your name?”

“Oof,” duh, “sorry,” he apologizes. “Natsu Dragneel.”

“Lucy Heartfilia,” she reciprocates, “and yeah,” her voice softens, “years ago when I was four.” 

Natsu’s shoulders slump and gaze lowers, eyes softening and shining from the gathering moisture, as his tone fills with genuine despair. “I’m really sorry you had to go through that. No one should have to.”

“Hey,” Lucy reaches out and places her hand over his. “It’s okay, you saved me, right? Twice now a fireman’s pulled me out of a fire, so don’t feel so bad, ‘cause you’re an angel to me.”

That heartfelt appreciation pulls Natsu to look up and what he sees makes his heart skip. Lucy’s big, almond-shaped brown eyes are teary-eyed too, but her face is graced with such a beautiful smile that’s haloed by the sun’s rays as if the angels themselves are besotted. This woman has faced death twice that he knows of and yet here she is comforting him, even though he’s perfectly fine. The sound of trumpets sounds off as his brain instantly short-circuits and quick as a flash, Natsu turns over his hand to take firm hold of hers, “Be my girlfriend!’ He blurts out with eyes flashing in excitement. “I-I mean, truth is I’m here ‘cause I’ve fallen for you, a-and— yeah,” he stammers, scratching his head from nervous energy, “sorry, I’m an idiot, but I think you’re really cute and something just makes me want to wrap you up and protect you so this never happens again…”

Though thoroughly surprised, this man’s enthusiastically embarrassing cliff jump is so beautifully endearing that her anxieties disappear— but is also so absolutely amusing, that Lucy bursts into a side-splitting laughter that brings out the happy tears. She squeezes his hand back. “Okay,” she chuckles, “I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

“Hell Yeah!” Natsu loses himself and pulls her halfway off the bed into a bear hug. “Best damn Christmas gift ever!”

[worthycreaturechaos]

The Necessity of Emergency Roof Leak Repair Services

Introduction

When it comes to safeguarding our homes and businesses, the roof serves as the first line of defense against environmental elements. Unfortunately, roofs can develop leaks due to various factors such as weather conditions, age, or poor installation. This is where emergency roof leak repair services become essential. In this article, we will explore the necessity of these services in depth, focusing on why timely intervention can save property owners from costly damages and provide peace of mind.

The Necessity of Emergency Roof Leak Repair Services

Every homeowner dreads the moment they discover a leak in their roof. It’s not just about water dripping onto the floor; it signifies potential structural damage, mold growth, and escalating repair costs. Ignoring a small leak can lead to larger issues down the road. Therefore, emergency roof leak repair services are vital for maintaining your home’s integrity.

Understanding Roof Leaks What Causes Roof Leaks?

Roof leaks can occur due to several reasons:

Weather Damage: Severe storms can cause hail damage, wind damage, or even storm damage that affects your roof's integrity. Aging Materials: Over time, roofing materials like shingles or tiles can degrade and lose their protective qualities. Poor Installation: If roofing contractors do not follow industry standards during installation, it could lead to premature failures. Common Signs of a Roof Leak

Recognizing signs early can save you from drastic consequences:

Water stains on ceilings and walls Mold growth in corners Missing shingles or tiles Dripping sounds during rain The Role of Licensed Roofing Contractors

When faced with a roofing emergency, hiring licensed roofing contractors is crucial. These professionals have undergone rigorous training and are equipped with the roofers necessary tools and knowledge to handle repairs efficiently.

Benefits of Hiring Certified Roofing Contractors Expertise: They possess specialized skills to identify and fix leaks correctly. Warranty: Many certified contractors offer warranties on their work. Insurance Compliance: Licensed professionals ensure all work complies with local regulations. How to Choose the Best Roofing Contractors

Selecting the right contractor involves several considerations:

Check for licenses and insurance. Read online reviews and testimonials. Ask for detailed estimates before committing. Emergency Roofing Services: When Do You Need Them?

You may wonder when it's time to call for emergency roofing services. Here are some situations that require immediate attention:

Severe Weather Events

After severe weather events like storms or heavy snowfall, assessing your roof is essential. Wind damage and hail damage often necessitate prompt repairs to prevent further complications.

Visible Damage

If you notice visible damage such as missing shingles or punctured membranes, don’t wait—contact an emergency roof repair company immediately.

<

[kavnich]

KAVNICH RAMBLES!! Finally.

Finally put on my thinking cap for Kaveh x Kinich. I've considered a possibility they can meet, somehow. I'm not a writer, these are... mindless rambles; but rarepairs are rarepairs! (Unreliable source of rarepairs)

Mischaracterizations might occur! I have yet to finish/view all of Kinich's quests, appearances, please bear with me. (As for Kaveh... I am trying my best to keep him in character, probably failing tho.)

BAH! Does it matter? The end goal is to have them... uhh... Interact! Yeah...

Kavnich Meeting Idea : 'Who does he think he is?'

Kinich visits Sumeru for commissions, as usual. By chance, he got hired by Kaveh's contractors to negotiate materials unknowingly alongside Kaveh.

They'd cross paths at a supplier, a meet cute, if you will.

"Ah, are you gathering supplies for a construction project, too?" Small talk from Kaveh.

"Hm, yes. I was commissioned to procure a list of materials." Kinich spares him a glance.

"You... don't look like you're in our field..? Wait, did [Contractor] hire you?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Aha, what a coincidence! I was hired by them too..."

Kinich chooses by price and functionality, while Kaveh defends the need for aesthetics. (Politely, of course. For now, at least.) Kinich considers Kaveh's argument, but then asks what the client would prefer.

Kaveh began to get riled up by that point. The client doesn't know a thing about design, he does- but he doesn't know how to word this at that moment without sounding rude, so he shoves it down and just tells Kinich to trust him, he's the architect.

Kinich looks unimpressed by the statement, but doesn't argue. He's not one to argue with a professional at their own field, but he will interject if the price goes over the optimal budget.

Kaveh, while thankful someone is around to assist him with work, is already confident in his own ability to choose a supplier and procure materials. He finds himself asking why the contractor decided to hire extra help in the first place when he himself knows that he can just do fine by himself. Do they doubt his monetary skills? Have they found out about his insolvency? Oh no...

So it became a one sided duel, with Kaveh trying to best Kinich's ability to allocate their budget with his own. Aaand.. he loses, because his choices always went overbudget to also ensure aesthetics— in expense of his own mora, of course. If the budget wouldn't allow it, he'll have to reach down his own pockets to ensure that the design is flawless.

(I don't know enough abt ts kill me).

Within this encounter, Kinich bluntly breaks down Kaveh's mora habits, even though they'd just met. In other words, he kind of scolds him in his usual calm and collected manner... (I'm trying my best not to compare him to Alhaitham right now and failing miserably 😭😭😭.)

By the end of it, they successfully bought materials befitting the project with the most optimal price negotiated by Kinich. Kaveh, despite his earlier doubts (and probably envy?), was impressed by his negotiation skills. His mood softens, and then he does what he usually does: invite his new acquaintance to a drink in celebration for a task well done. (Yes, even though he has no money. Funny.)

Just who does this man think he is, scolding me about my monetary habits? Kaveh finds himself asking. [If he felt a romantic spark, maybe he'd let it slide *shrug*. But let's be realistic here, he'd more or less likely be pissed for being talked down like that. He'll suppress it though, keep up the good act.]

Kinich politely declines the invite, staring at Kaveh with those- as Kaveh would like to describe them -soulless, unfeeling eyes.

So Kinich, though he dislikes alcohol and loathes alcoholics, accepts the invite. (It's not that he never drinks. He drinks if 1. If the situation calls for it; 2. Paid to; 3. If Ajaw doesn't shut up about it. In this case, the 3rd applies.) And then they get to know each other at a surface level, exchange contacts and the rest will be history.

Ajaw takes this moment to appear once and for all, mocking Kinich for being a lightweight, unable to handle his alcohol, and 'being a coward.' Naturally, Kinich tells him to shut up.

Kaveh looks bewildered ('What is that?')  Blablabla Ajaw introduces himself, mocks Kinich more before getting muted and hidden away again- but not without conveniently telling Kaveh that Kinich WILL go have a drink with him 'cause, quote 'The Almighty Dragonlord demands alcohol!!'

The rest can wait... it's just important for them to, y'know, actually meet first... Then, they can witness the contrast of each others' viewpoints and personalities once they get to know each other more.

Kaveh, (slightly) prideful in his own right, guilt-driven and willing to help anyone due to it. Kinich, who works to survive- and sees mora as a way of survival (in a general sense.) The way these two perceive mora is just interesting to me...

[hardwoodfloor970]

Protect and Shine Your Hardwood Floors with Chicago Experts

Hardwood flooring is one of the most timeless and attractive features in any home. It provides warmth, beauty, and elegance that few other flooring types can match. But maintaining that rich luster and durability over the years takes more than routine cleaning—it requires expert care and occasional professional treatments. That’s where the seasoned specialists in Chicago come in. With their experience, advanced techniques, and understanding of wood flooring, Chicago hardwood experts can help your floors stay beautiful and resilient for decades.

In this article, we’ll explore how to properly protect and rejuvenate your hardwood floors, the importance of professional maintenance, and why working with a hardwood flooring screen & coat contractor near Chicago can be one of the best decisions you make for your home.

The Value of Hardwood Flooring

Hardwood floors are a substantial investment that can significantly increase the value and appeal of your home. Not only are they aesthetically pleasing, but they are also durable, hypoallergenic, and easy to clean. Whether you own a classic Chicago brownstone, a modern condo, or a suburban home, hardwood floors add character and class.

However, even the most durable wood floors are not invincible. Over time, daily wear and tear can dull their shine, scratch the surface, and expose the wood to potential damage from moisture and dirt. That’s why regular maintenance and occasional professional treatments are crucial.

Understanding the Enemies of Hardwood

Before diving into protection and shine strategies, it’s important to understand what challenges hardwood floors face:

1. Foot Traffic

Constant walking, especially in busy households or high-traffic areas, wears down the finish and exposes the wood to scratches and scuffs.

2. Furniture and Pet Damage

Heavy furniture, pet claws, and dragging items across the floor can lead to dents, scratches, and gouges.

3. Moisture and Spills

Water is wood’s worst enemy. Spills, high humidity, or even wet shoes can cause warping, swelling, and staining if not cleaned up quickly.

4. Dirt and Grit

Fine particles of dirt and sand can act like sandpaper underfoot, slowly grinding down the finish and dulling the floor.

Daily Maintenance Tips to Preserve Shine

While professional treatments are essential every few years, daily care routines can extend the life of your hardwood floors and keep them looking great between services.

1. Sweep or Vacuum Daily

Use a soft-bristled broom or a vacuum cleaner designed for hardwood floors to remove dust and debris. This prevents dirt buildup that can scratch the surface.

2. Use Doormats and Rugs

Place mats at entrances and rugs in high-traffic areas to reduce the amount of dirt and moisture tracked onto your floors.

3. Protect from Furniture

Use felt pads under furniture legs and avoid dragging heavy items. For rolling chairs, use a protective mat.

4. Control Humidity

Keep your home’s humidity levels between 30-50% to prevent the wood from expanding and contracting excessively.

5. Wipe Up Spills Immediately

Even small spills can seep into cracks and cause damage over time. Always use a dry or slightly damp cloth.

What Is a Screen and Coat Treatment?

As floors age, they may lose their shine and develop fine scratches even if they are structurally sound. That’s where a screen and coat comes into play.

A screen and coat (also known as buff and recoat) is a process where the floor’s top layer of finish is lightly abraded (screened) and then a fresh coat of polyurethane is applied. This process restores the floor’s sheen and provides renewed protection without the need for a full sanding and refinishing.

Benefits of a Screen and Coat:

Quick turnaround: Most projects are completed in a day or two.

Cost-effective: Less expensive than full refinishing.

Less invasive: No need to sand down to the bare wood.

Renewed protection: Extends the life of your finish by several years.

Environmental benefits: Less dust and chemical use.

Signs You Need a Screen and Coat

Not sure if your floors need a screen and coat or something more extensive? Here are a few signs that a buff and recoat might be the right solution:

Your floors look dull or hazy but are not severely scratched.

There are superficial scratches and scuff marks that haven’t penetrated the wood.

Water droplets no longer bead on the surface.

You want to maintain the finish and extend its life.

If the damage goes deeper, such as deep gouges, exposed wood, or severe discoloration, a complete sand and refinish may be necessary instead.

Why Choose a Professional for the Job?

While DIY floor treatments are popular online, screen and coat is not a job for beginners. Proper technique, tools, and materials are essential to achieving a professional result.

Here’s why hiring a hardwood flooring screen & coat contractor near Chicago is the smart choice:

1. Local Experience

Chicago’s climate, housing styles, and architectural history are unique. Local contractors understand how to work with specific wood types, subfloor conditions, and environmental factors.

2. Proper Tools and Materials

Professional-grade buffing machines, sanding screens, and polyurethane finishes yield better results than off-the-shelf products.

3. Efficient and Clean

Professionals can complete the job faster and cleaner, with dust containment systems and low-VOC finishes that are safe for your family.

4. Guaranteed Results

Reputable contractors offer warranties or guarantees, ensuring you get long-lasting results.

What to Expect from a Screen and Coat Service

Working with an expert hardwood flooring contractor near Chicago means you can expect a seamless process from start to finish. Here’s what a typical screen and coat service looks like:

Step 1: Inspection and Assessment

A contractor will evaluate your floors to determine if they’re suitable for a screen and coat. They’ll look for deep damage, existing finish condition, and moisture content.

Step 2: Preparation

The area is cleaned thoroughly. Furniture is moved, and baseboards may be taped off. Floors must be free of waxes or oil-based cleaners, as these can interfere with adhesion.

Step 3: Screening

Using a buffer and a mesh screen pad, the top coat of finish is lightly abraded. This step helps the new coat bond properly.

Step 4: Cleanup

Any dust created during the screening is vacuumed and wiped clean to ensure a smooth surface.

Step 5: Coating

A new coat of polyurethane is applied. The contractor may use water-based or oil-based finishes depending on your preference and the needs of your floor.

Step 6: Drying and Curing

Most water-based finishes dry in a few hours and cure in 24–48 hours. Oil-based finishes take longer to dry and cure fully.

Choosing the Right Contractor

Not all contractors are created equal. To ensure your hardwood floors are in good hands, look for these qualities in a hardwood flooring screen & coat contractor near Chicago:

1. Positive Reviews

Check Google, Yelp, and Angi for customer feedback. Look for consistent praise in areas like professionalism, cleanliness, and final results.

2. Licensed and Insured

Make sure the contractor is fully licensed and carries liability insurance. This protects you and your property.

3. Experience and Specialization

Choose a contractor who specializes in hardwood flooring and screen and coat services—not just general flooring or remodeling.

4. Transparent Pricing

A trustworthy contractor provides written estimates and explains the scope of work clearly.

5. Portfolio of Work

Ask to see before-and-after photos of past projects to assess the quality of their craftsmanship.

Aftercare: Keeping the Shine Going

Once your screen and coat is complete, taking the right steps will help preserve the results:

Wait at least 24 hours before walking on the floor.

Avoid placing furniture back for 48 hours (longer for rugs).

Clean with products recommended by your contractor—avoid harsh chemicals.

Use protective pads and avoid high heels or cleats indoors.

Maintain a cleaning schedule and address minor scratches quickly.

Chicago’s Hardwood Flooring Experts Are Here to Help

Living in the Chicago area means dealing with distinct seasonal changes, older homes, and sometimes harsh conditions. That’s why it’s so valuable to work with professionals who know how to maintain hardwood floors in this unique environment.

Whether your floors are looking a little tired or you’re preparing to sell your home, a screen and coat is one of the best ways to refresh their look and prolong their life. Don’t wait until the damage is irreversible—take action today and partner with a trusted hardwood flooring screen & coat contractor near Chicago to bring out the best in your floors.

Final Thoughts

Hardwood flooring brings beauty, value, and warmth to any space. But to truly protect and shine your floors, routine maintenance and professional care are essential. Chicago homeowners are fortunate to have access to some of the best hardwood floor specialists in the region.

Whether you’re a longtime resident or new to the city, ensuring your hardwood floors are properly protected means you’ll enjoy their elegance for years to come. From simple buff and coat treatments to ongoing expert guidance, your local flooring pros are ready to help you keep your home looking its best.

[geralt-of-baevia]

Call It What You Want: Chapter Eight

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

pairing: nobreakout!joel x f!ofc (Violet Fletcher)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 3.7k

summary: Seeking solace from a painful breakup, Violet relocates to a tranquil town, purchasing a neglected house to renovate. In her new neighborhood, she befriends Harlow, who introduces her to Joel, a gruff and seasoned contractor with a heart of gold. Despite Joel's initial grumpiness, Violet finds herself drawn to his expertise and hidden kindness.

As Violet immerses herself in home renovations alongside Joel, their dynamic begins to shift, with Joel unexpectedly opening himself up to the possibility of love. Their budding relationship faces challenges as shadows from their pasts emerge, testing their newfound connection.

warnings/tags: alright folks. dirty talk, softdom!joel, hung!joel, kitchen sex, nipple/breast play, vaginal fingering, p-in-v sex, unprotected p-in-v sex, one pussy slap, oral sex/cunnilingus (female receiving), size kink, consent king joel miller, baby. 😎

a/n: uhhh, maybe after you read this I'll have some water waiting for you to cool down? bahahaha, just kidding. but man, these two finally get freaky and thank GOD. 😈

The next week flew by faster than I realized. Joel and I dove headfirst into the house. While he was fixing things like the roof and crown molding, I was alternating between painting rooms and baking pies for taste testing. 

It turned out Harlow was right, Frank and Bill loved my croissants and asked me to bake them a few pies to try. They just used frozen pies, but for years had been wanting to have homemade ones instead. Once Joel mentioned that damned apple pie I made the day he came over to them, they knew they wanted to potentially sell them at the diner. 

Saturday afternoon, Bill and Frank, along with Joel and Harlow, all got together to taste tested the four pies I made. Apple, banana cream, lemon meringue and cherry. I figured those four gave a range and variety to show off my skills. The chorus of ‘oos’ and ‘ahhs’ rang throughout Bill and Frank’s dining room. I giggled to myself, hiding my smile behind my hand. I had forgotten how much I loved making food and it making people happy. 

“Goddammit, Violet. Where did you learn to bake like this?” Bill asked in his gruff voice, greedily cutting a piece of the lemon meringue to try next. 

“Now I can understand why you said Joel was eye fucking that apple pie. This is fucking amazing, Vi,” Harlow mumbled through a mouthful, causing Joel to choke on his bite. Frank and Bill broke out into giggles at her statement, Joel blushing as he coughed. 

“Violet, how many pies a week can you bake?” Frank asked, putting his fork down and wiping his mouth with a napkin. I sighed and stared off into the corner, mentally doing the math. 

“Well, we can do this. What I did at my bakery was prepare pies in advance and then each morning I would bake the pie before opening the shop, like when I would also bake the bread and stuff. Then give it time to rest before serving. So what if I prepare two of each pie you’d like me to make, I’ll freeze them raw. Then we can see how quickly you go through those pies to know what is the most popular and what you go through the fastest,” I rambled, “But to answer your question straight I can bake four pies a day and prepare like 8 a day.”

“Violet, I’m very impressed with you,” Frank told me, a beaming smile on his face, “that plan sounds great. We can talk about costs in private.”

I giggled. “I respect your professionalism Frank, but I’m just going to tell Harlow and Joel any way. How much were you thinking per pie?”

“$50 a pie? And make whatever flavors you know sell, I trust you on that,” he said with a friendly wink. “Will you make five different flavors? 10 pies total? Would you be willing to do half of the payment now and the other half when you deliver them?”

“That sounds perfect, Frank. And you two are welcome to keep these pies I made,” I said with a smile. 

“The hell they are. This pie is coming home with me,” Harlow said, grabbing the apple pie and putting it next to her plate. We all chuckled. 

The following evening I stood and stared at my kitchen, it was a complete mess. I was a complete mess. Flour, sugar and various fruits were all over me and had stained my hands. I had only cut myself once, which was a miracle. But six pies sat in my freezer ready and done. I had obviously miscalculated to Frank how long it would take me to prepare the pies, but I had to remind myself I was a little rusty and used to working with an assistant. 

I made two cherry, two pecan and two apple. Tomorrow would be banana crème and chocolate creme. But for now, I needed to be done. It was almost 8pm, and I had been going since noon. I began to clean up, but then I heard that all too familiar knock at my door. 

It was Joel. 

I didn’t care if I was a mess or the kitchen at this point with him. When I opened the door, Joel’s hand was up, me interrupting his second knock.

“What happened to you?” He asked, looking me up and down. 

“I’ve been baking pies all day,” I told him. His eyes lit up. “No, that doesn’t mean there’s any pie for you. You just had some last night and if you want anymore you’ll have to wait until you buy some from Frank at the diner.” 

His eyes grew wide. My words came out harsher than I meant them. “Wow, I’m sorry I-”

“No, no, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m just very tired and frazzled and I need to clean the kitchen and shower-”

“Well if you let me in, I’ll clean the kitchen for you while you shower,” he offered, raising his eyebrows at me. I sighed. 

“That would actually be wonderful,” I stated. I let Joel in and we both headed to the kitchen. 

“Oh this isn’t that bad at all, I’ve got this,” he told me. I watched in amazement as Joel went over to the sink and put my dark green apron on before collecting dishes off of the table. He looked up at me and gave me a smirk. “Go, shower and don’t worry about this.” 

“Thank you,” I told him. He gave me a wink, and with that I turned around and headed up the stairs. I took a longer shower than normal, just basking in the heat of the water, almost forgetting that Joel was there. 

When I was done showering, I dried off and got dressed in pajamas in my room. I threw on a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized sweater. In the shower I had decided to ask Joel to stay over. Part of me felt like he wanted to, coming over at eight at night. 

I headed back downstairs and to my surprise, Joel had not only cleaned the kitchen, but had food waiting for us to eat together on the table. Joel looked up from the fridge as I entered, wine in his hand.  My eyes started to well up at the sight. 

“Hi,” I moused out with a smile. I bit at my bottom lip as Joel set the wine down on the counter and walked over to me. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close as I placed my hands on his chest.

“How was your shower?” 

“It was nice. Joel, this is so wonderful. You didn’t have to-”

“Maybe not, but I wanted to,” he said with a scrunch of his nose. I quickly wiped tears away from under my eyes with the sleeves of my sweater. 

“Why?” 

He chuckled, shaking his head at me in amused disbelief. 

“Because Violet, you deserve it. You said last night that you were going to be baking all day, and when you texted me earlier saying you were on your last pie I went and picked up food for us. It’s what Harlow said she sees you order all the time,” he said with a smile. My heart felt like it was swelling in my chest. I just beamed up at him, speechless at his actions. The way he continued to take care of me amazed me. He did it just because he wanted to, not because he had to. 

“So, I thought we’d eat this and have a glass of wine and then-”

Without another thought, I cut Joel off mid sentence. I reached up and grabbed his face to pull him down into a deep kiss. I needed to kiss him. To touch him. 

Joel reacted immediately, his hands eagerly grabbing at any part of me he could. I felt one of his hands sneak up under my sweater. Soon it found what it was searching for, cupping my breast. I moaned against his mouth as his rough fingertips found my nipple, pinching and twisting it. His other hand slinked down my shorts and grabbed at my ass, keeping me close.

My mouth broke away from his to breathe as he planted sloppy, needy kisses down my neck. 

“Fuck Joel,” I panted out. He removed his hand from my shorts and released my tit, much to my dismay. Joel picked me up under my ass, my legs wrapping around his waist, all while still kissing and biting at my neck. My arms clutched onto his shoulders as I felt him walk me backwards. Soon my ass was placed on the counter to sit. I wrapped my legs around him tighter, rubbing my throbbing core against his hardening cock. 

His hands tugged at the bottom of my sweater and I lifted my arms above my head so that he could take it off. He looked me over for a second, a wicked smile playing on his face. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said as his eyes took me in. His hands reached up and cupped both of my tits, massaging them roughly and causing fire to spark between my thighs again. I placed my hands on either side of Joel’s head and guided his face to between my tits. 

He took in a deep breath, breathing me in before kissing and biting at still damp skin. I let out a loud cry as he pinched both my nipples at the same time. He removed one of his hands and replaced it quickly with his mouth. I clutched onto him as he bit and sucked at my nipple, still twisting the other one in his fingertips. 

“Joel…” I whined out through a moan. I had never felt so needy, the space between my legs aching. He looked up at me, my nipple still between his teeth. I watched with quick breaths as he released it from his mouth, my nipple now swollen and peaked. He reached around and hooked his thumbs under my knees, prying me off of him. I watched confused for a moment as he knelt down, but then I realized what he was doing. 

Joel reached up and grabbed at the waistband of my shorts. He tugged them down as I lifted my ass up, discarding them to the side. My breathing became shallow as he spread my legs apart, he was now eye level with my aching, wet pussy. 

“Fuck, Vi…” he said, his eyes turning dark with lust at the sight before him. 

I leaned back on my hands, bracing myself against the cold quartz of the countertop. He began to kiss at the inside of my thighs, making his way painstakingly slow towards my core. Joel placed one of my knees over his shoulders and pulled my ass a little closer to the edge. 

Joel hovered over my pussy and I felt like I was going to explode if he didn’t touch me. Moans formed in the back of my throat as he kissed the outside of my slit, crying out as he began biting lightly at my pussy lips. My mouth gaped open as I watched him slide his strong nose between my slit, the tip of it hitting my clit and causing me to cry out again. 

Joel looked up at me, a cheeky grin on his stupid, sexy face.

“You like that, Vi?” he asked, kissing the inside of my thigh. Before I could answer, he did it again. When I didn’t answer him soon enough, I was shocked when he slapped my pussy, causing a surge throughout my body. 

“I asked you, did you like it?” he questioned again, his voice stern now. “I expect an answer when I ask you questions.” 

“Y-yes.” 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, I liked it,” I replied through heavy breaths . He smiled. 

“Good girl.”

Before I had anytime to respond, he dipped his tongue into my slit and swiped his tongue against my clit. 

“Fuuuuuck, Joel,” I whined out. He smiled to himself before dipping in, this time burying his face in my pussy. My arms buckled and I fell back against the countertop, catching myself on my elbows. 

He pulled away for a moment to mutter out how I ‘tasted so good’ before diving back in. I reached down with one of my hands and raked it through his hair, gripping at it. 

Joel began to suck on my clit, causing my hips to instinctively grind against his face. He moaned against me, causing that familiar tension to build between my legs. I knew what was coming, but I wasn’t ready. 

“Joel-Joel I’m gonna-”

Before I could finish my sentence he gripped onto me tighter, his strong arms locking my legs into place. He moaned again against my clit, alternating between licking and sucking on it. 

“Joel-Joel-“

In a matter of seconds I was peaking, shockwaves causing my body to convulse with my loud orgasm. Joel continued to circle his tongue around my clit as I came, letting me ride it out. 

I laid back against the counter, my breathing heavy as I was still reeling. Joel got to his feet and pulled me up off of my back, and against his warm chest. He leaned down and kissed me hard, feeling myself get turned on again already as I tasted myself on his tongue.

“But, I wanted you to-”

“Do you think I’m done with you?” he practically growled low in my ear. My eyes grew wide and without another word, he picked me up. I relaxed against him as he led us out of the kitchen, my legs still feeling like dead weight. 

My heart began to race again as he ascended the stairs, heading straight for my bedroom once he hit the landing. Once in my room, he set me down on my bed. I immediately reached out and began undoing his belt. While I undid that and his jeans, Joel began working on the buttons on his shirt. At almost the same time we got done. He pulled off his shirt and discarded it to the side before pulling down his jeans and boxers, kicking them off. 

My eyes grew wide. Joel was much bigger than I had expected. I reached out and wrapped my right hand around his cock. He let out a sigh of relief as I began stroking him. 

“God, you’re so big,” I told him, looking at him through hooded eyes. 

“Hmm, I can’t wait to fuck that pussy of yours,” he said, his eyes closing in pleasure. His head fell back as I quickened my pace, moans escaping his parted lips. 

I stopped the movements with my hand and released him from my grip. His head snapped back down, looking at me intensely. I bit at my lip as I scooted back on the bed, laying so that my head was at my pillows. Anticipation rippled through my chest as he kneeled onto the bed and started crawling towards me. 

Once Joel was hovering over me, he leaned down and crashed our lips together again. I wrapped my limbs around his naked frame and pulled him down on top of me. Joel moved to lay to the side of me, and I met his eyes with a curious expression. 

“Spread your legs for me,” he said. I followed orders, bending my knees and letting them fall to the sides,  one of my legs resting on Joel’s thighs. 

I watched as his right hand trailed down my torso, my chest rising and falling as my breathing sped back up. 

“Joel, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any-”

“Shhh, don’t worry. We’re going to get you nice and ready for my cock.” He slipped his hand down to my pussy and grabbed it, massaging me gently with his palm. My clit was still extra sensitive and sore, so this felt amazing. I tried to spread my legs a little more as I felt his middle finger dip into my slit. He circled around my clit softly for a moment, eliciting soft moans out of me.

I couldn’t help but moan out Joel’s name as he plunged his thick finger into my pussy. He moved very slowly, letting my walls adjust to him. I grabbed onto him where I could, trying to keep grounded. After a moment he began to move his finger in and out, producing more moans from me. 

As soon as that felt comfortable and I began to thrust against him, he added another finger. I winced out in pain for a moment, but that pain quickly turned to pleasure again. 

“Are you okay? Am I going too fast?” Joel asked, scanning my face for an answer. I nodded eagerly, not being able to form any coherent words. 

My walls adjusted again as he began to finger fuck me with his fingers, my pussy stretching and getting wetter with every thrust. 

“Joel, Joel I need you,” I quietly begged. 

“What was that?” he asked in a devilish tone. He was such a fucking tease. 

“I need you,” I said a little louder.

“Hmm?” 

“Fuck Joel! I need you to fuck me with your cock!” I said loudly through gritted teeth. 

My pussy squelched as he finger fucked me a few more times before pulling them out. He started to move his hand to wipe me off on the bed, but I stopped him. He watched curiously as I brought his messy hand up to my face. His jaw slackened as I put his two wet fingers in my mouth and began sucking and licking my juices off of them. 

I groaned as he pulled his fingers out of my mouth and started moving so he was sitting on his knees between my legs. He roughly grabbed onto my hips and pulled them up onto his thighs. I watched as he lined the head of his cock up with my pussy with one of his hands, the other holding me still. 

Without another thought, Joel began to slowly plunge his cock into my center. Even though he had stretched me out with his fingers, it still ached as I adjusted. I closed my eyes and breathed and he continued to push into me, filling me up to the brim. We stayed like that for a moment, allowing me to get used to his size. He reached down and gently stroked my clit, causing my pussy to tighten again around his cock in pleasure.

“Jesus, Violet. You’re so tight,” he breathed out, “you feel so fucking good. Am I hurting you?” 

I shook my head, words failing me again. After another moment I finally spoke. All I could say was, ‘start moving.” 

Joel’s eyes lit up. I began to feel empty as he almost pulled all the way out, but not for long. He thrust back into me, it aching less. After a few times of him moving slowly, he began to quicken his pace. 

I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling back in my head as he held a steady pace. Moans escaped both of us as he fucked into me, my pussy gripping his cock.

“Joel, fucking hell,” I mumbled out, bliss taking over my senses. Suddenly Joel pulled out of me, granting a whine from me. He slapped my pussy in response. 

“Roll over,” he said, in more of a demand than a request. I moaned and slid down off of him before rolling over onto my stomach. Joel grabbed me by the hips and pulled me up onto a fours. I laid my upper body back down, arching my back and sticking my ass up more in the process. As he slapped my ass I turned around to look at him the best I could, only being able to see him roughly out of my peripheral vision. 

I almost melted into the mattress as I watched him lick his finger tips before rubbing the saliva he had collected on the head of his cock. His eyes were hungrily fixed on my cunt. I spread my knees out, just enough for him to kneel in between them. I felt again as he lined himself up with my pussy, this time sliding in much easier at this angle. 

“Oh my god,” I whimpered out as he filled me up again. Joel let out a heavy moan as he began to thrust in and out of me, going slowly again at first. But that’s not what I wanted.

“Joel, harder,” I told him, my face half smothered in my pillow. He thrust into me, holding my hips so that we didn’t move. 

“Speak up, baby,” he told me, his pet name sending a shiver down my spine. 

“Harder,” I said louder this time. 

“That’s my girl.” 

Joel’s fingers dug into my hip bones, threatening to leave bruises tomorrow. One of his hands moved to my shoulder and pulled me backwards, pressing my back against his chest. This angle suddenly began to hit a new spot, and I gasped as I began climbing towards a second orgasm. 

“Joel, Joel I’m so-“

“Me too, come on, baby. Cum for me,” he crooned into my ear. 

That was enough to send me over the edge. Joel wrapped the hand not gripping my hip around my middle, keeping me close to him as came. He continued to thrust into me and within moments he was moaning in my ear, his cock throbbing inside me. He trust in and out of me a couple more times, softer as he spilled into me. 

When he was finished, he slipped himself out of me with a groan. I felt as he then immediately laid me down, not wanting to make a mess on my bed. But at this point, I didn’t care. I had extra bedding if things needed to be changed.

We moved underneath the covers and Joel cuddled up behind me, wrapping his arms around me. I immediately relaxed into him, not sure if my body was still actually there. 

“That’s the first time I’ve done that,” I told him, my voice just above a whisper. He kissed my shoulder. 

“What’s that?” 

“Orgasmed twice in one go like that,” I said. He chuckled a sleepy laugh. “What?” 

“Oh, just that it won’t be the last time that happens.”

[arcusrestoration]

Why Commercial Roof Restoration is Key to Protecting Your Business

When it comes to making your commercial building durable, one of the most neglected parts tends to be the roof. However, roof restoration is a basic service that can not only make your roof durable but even save you hundreds of dollars in the future. Commercial roof restoration is a cheap choice in comparison to an entire roof replacement and contains a whole lot of benefits to provide to businesses.

To begin with, commercial roof restoration avoids water damage that can be incurred. Roofs can leak due to wear and tear over the years, which can lead to costly repairs or even interior damage. By restoring your roof, you get to repair issues like cracks, broken seams, and leaks before they become major issues. This costs much less than waiting for damage to be widespread.

Another main advantage of roof restoration is improved energy efficiency. The majority of commercial roofs have reflective coatings that reduce heat absorption, decreasing the temperature of your building during the warmer months. This can mean less money spent on energy bills and a more comfortable working environment for both clients and employees. A sound roof in good condition can also improve your building's overall insulation, once more reducing the need for HVAC usage.

Roof restoration also extends the life of your roof by a number of years. Instead of undergoing the costly and disruptive process of a full roof replacement, restoration allows you to restore the existing roofing system, upgrading its performance and longevity. In this way, you can avoid the hassle of construction work and keep your business running as usual.

Finally, roof restoration is an eco-friendly choice. By restoring rather than replacing your roof, you avoid waste and help promote sustainability. Most roofing materials utilized in restorations are environmentally friendly, so you can feel good about making a decision that is good for your business and good for the planet.

In conclusion, commercial roof restoration is a valuable investment. It spares your business expensive repairs, enhances energy efficiency, and enables you to possess a sustainable building. If your roof is showing signs of degradation, do not wait for a disaster to strike—contact a professional roofing contractor to discuss your restoration options today!

[lastimeexteriors-nebraska]

What Tools Do Asphalt Roofing Contractors Use?

If you’re diving into the world of home improvements and considering a roofing project, understanding the tools that asphalt roofing contractors use can provide you with valuable insights. Whether you’re looking to hire a professional or tackle some repairs yourself, having familiarity with these essential roofing tools will help you appreciate the craftsmanship involved in a quality roofing job. Let’s explore the must-have tools for asphalt roofing contractors and how they contribute to a successful installation or repair.

Essential Tools for an Asphalt Roofing Contractor

When it comes to asphalt roofing, having the right tools is paramount. An asphalt roofing contractor relies on various equipment that facilitates the roofing process and enhances safety and efficiency. Here are some of the most essential tools they use:

1. Ladders

The ladder is one of the most basic yet vital tools for any asphalt roofing contractor. It provides the initial access to the roof and comes in different types, including extension ladders and step ladders. Extension ladders are particularly common, as they can reach the necessary heights safely. Contractors often prefer aluminum or fiberglass ladders due to their lightweight nature and durability.

2. Roofing Hammers and Hatchets

Roofing hammers and hatchets are indispensable for asphalt roofing jobs. These specialized tools allow contractors to drive nails into shingles efficiently. The roofing hammer typically features a flat head for driving nails and a claw for removing them. On the other hand, a roofing hatchet has a thin blade designed for cutting shingles, making it a versatile option for many tasks.

3. Nail Guns

Nail guns have transformed the roofing industry by significantly speeding up nailing. These powerful tools allow asphalt roofing contractors to install shingles quickly and with precision, reducing the physical demand of hammering nails manually. With various nail guns available, contractors choose models best suited for the specific materials and job requirements.

4. Roofing Shovels

When it’s time to remove old shingles or debris, roofing shovels come into play. These specialized shovels are designed to dig out old asphalt shingles efficiently. Contractors often use them with pry bars to remove nails and ensure a clean surface before new shingles are installed.

5. Caulking Guns

Caulking guns are essential for applying sealants and adhesives during the roofing process. Asphalt roofing contractors use these tools to ensure seams and joints are properly sealed, which helps to prevent leaks and water damage. The variety of caulking guns allows contractors to select the best size and style for their projects.

6. Roofing Squares and Chalk Lines

Precision is key in roofing, and tools such as roofing squares and chalk lines help ensure straight cuts and accurate measurements. Contractors use roofing squares to mark the angles needed for shingles, while chalk lines create visible guides for cutting and aligning materials.

7. Roofing Levels

To maintain a professional finish, asphalt roofing contractors utilize levels to ensure the roof is installed correctly and structurally sound. A level tool helps to check that the shingles are aligned and positioned properly, essential for aesthetic appeal and functionality.

8. Shingle Shears

Shingle shears are specialized cutting tools designed for trimming asphalt shingles. These shears make it easier to create clean edges and ensure that shingles fit properly, which is crucial for the roof's appearance and performance.

9. Safety Gear

While not a traditional tool, safety gear is an essential aspect of any roofing project. Asphalt roofing contractors prioritize safety by wearing helmets, harnesses, goggles, and gloves. This protective equipment minimizes the risk of injury while working at elevated heights.

10. The Pitch Hopper

One of the best-kept secrets in the roofing industry is the Pitch Hopper. This innovative tool is a temporary working surface for contractors on steep roofs. Weighing only 6 lbs, it adheres to asphalt shingles, providing a stable platform without needing nails or attachments. By improving grip and stability, the Pitch Hopper helps reduce fatigue and enhances safety when working on steep pitches.

Explore Your Roofing Option

Understanding the tools utilized by asphalt roofing contractors helps demystify the roofing process and highlights the skill and expertise involved in achieving a high-quality roof. By equipping themselves with the right tools, contractors ensure their work is efficient, safe, and effective.

If you're considering a roofing project, whether it’s a new installation, repair, or inspection, remember that hiring a professional asphalt roofing contractor will ensure you get the best results.

Ready to explore your roofing options? Visit Lastime Exteriors to learn about their services and discover energy-efficient roofing solutions tailored to your needs. Don’t hesitate to reach out for a consultation today!