#intelligent dishwashers

[msn-technology]

How AI is Revolutionizing Premium Advanced Kitchen Gadgets

Artificial Intelligence (AI) is making waves in every industry, and the kitchen is no exception. The integration of AI into kitchen gadgets is transforming the way we cook. It makes the process more efficient, convenient, and enjoyable. Smart ovens can predict cooking times. Intelligent dishwashers optimize water usage. AI is revolutionizing premium advanced kitchen gadgets. In this article,…

[silver-queen]

I love you neurodivergent-coded literature characters you make me sob rivers

[hnkparts]

Whirlpool WPW10285180 Dishwasher Control Electronic | HnKParts

[tojicide]

DOCTOR, DOCTOR! ☆ ZAYNE LI.

summary. when you’re feeling under the weather, doctor zayne is quick to prescribe you with what he knows will have you feeling better in no time.

warnings. fem! reader, pet names, boyfriend! zayne, praise, masturbation, fingering, oral ( fem. receiving ), cockwarming, unprotected p in v, mirror sex, creampie, aftercare. the rocking chair is featured. wc. 3.9k.

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Zayne is an intelligent man, that much was evident, but for the first time in his career, he’s absolutely stumped.

Why is that, you may ask? Well for starters you, his beloved girlfriend, have been a bit distant lately. Not cold, not rude, but distant.

With his busy schedule, he didn’t see much of you during the day, and by the time he got home, you were usually fast asleep. It was easy to think that he was simply missing you and that was why his brain had led him to feel this rift between the two of you, but alas, he couldn’t be more wrong.

This entire ordeal truly got him thinking…

He saw a few tissues in the trash bin—perhaps you were catching the common cold. But when he prepared a spoonful of bitter medicine and a glass of water to wash it down, he was met with your denial that you masked with a smile.

If it wasn’t that, what could it be? Zayne asked the same question.

Maybe you were stressed out because of work. He finds that to be probable, so he made it a point to get home as early as he could last night to give you a massage after he cooked you your favorite meal.

You seemed to be soothed by his touch, murmuring a few ‘ah’s and ‘ooh’s of satisfaction as his skilled hands threaded into the tense muscles of your shoulders. Once you were at ease with your head resting back on his chest, he gave you a tender kiss on your cheek before he turned in for the night.

Call him overly analytical, but when it took you awhile to join him, he had a feeling that the massage hadn’t quite accomplished what he hoped it would have.

His mind then started to wander even further. Had he forgotten to run the dishwasher? No, of course not. Had he forgotten to pay the utility bills? Absolutely not, he took his credit score very seriously and a late payment was simply unlike him.

Had he forgotten to put the toilet seat down…? Okay, he definitely did, but that couldn’t be why you were acting so unlike yourself.

And then, as he sat at his desk with a fresh plate of food in front of him, it dawned on him. When was the last time you orgasmed? More importantly, when was the last time he’d given you one himself?

It was almost inhuman how fast he jumped up from his office chair to inform Yvonne that he would be out for the remainder of the afternoon, because oh was he feeling downright horrible.

He was back at your shared apartment in no time, pushing the door open and setting his shoes in the nook positioned in the entryway.

(He had a bad habit of trucking on the hardwood floors without removing his shoes, and considering he was already on your shit-list, he made sure to do it now.)

“Honey?” he calls out to you, making his way towards your closed bedroom door. “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

Zayne’s eyebrows raise as he glances around, finding that your apartment looks rather empty and desolate. “I’d like to apologize. I know I haven’t been present for you lately and—”

And then, he hears something. Something that makes him stop in his tracks. His eyebrow quirks up with intrigue as he presses his ear to the door, listening in.

He’d know those beautiful sounds anywhere, even if it’d been awhile since he had lured them out of you himself. Your moans were muffled by the door, but they were enough to make his cock stiffen up beneath the fabric of his black slacks.

“God… please,” you muttered, clearly out of breath and in frustration. “Damn it!”

Behind the door, you were resting on his side of the bed, hoping that his scent would be enough to make you finish. Your fingers toyed with your clit as you desperately tried to get yourself off, but nothing seemed to be working.

Zayne was practiced in a way that only he could be. He knew female anatomy better than you did, but more importantly, he took pride in learning yours. He knew what you liked and what you didn’t, what made you crumble and cry out.

And now that you’ve gone without him for so long, you’re finding yourself more pent up than ever. A huff of frustration leaves your lips as you try again, again, and again—only to be edged with your release without reaping the benefits of it.

He exhales, twisting the doorknob as he cracks the door open. To no surprise, there you were, sitting on his side of the bed with your hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties.

You hardly looked horrified at the sight of him, more so desperate if anything. He pulls his tie loose as he takes a few steps towards the bed, his knees finding the plush comforter as he sinks onto his stomach.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, almost sounding sympathetic. He runs his hands over your thighs as he hikes them over his shoulders. “Let me see.”

You roll your eyes. “Who’s to say that you deserve to?”

Zayne gives you a look that you know all too well, one that silently reads ‘girl, are you serious?’ And no, you aren’t serious by any means, so you nod your head to give him your permission.

He pulls the damp fabric of your panties to the side, his gaze slimming as he sets eyes on your cunt for the first time in what feels like forever. (It’s been two and a half weeks at most, but you’re both awfully dramatic.)

“I’m sorry,” he speaks into your heat, almost as if he were apologizing to both you and your pussy. He raises his eyes to yours as he flattens his soft tongue to swipe along your wet folds. He moans at the mere taste of you, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulls you even closer to him. “I had no idea. Truly, baby, I didn’t.”

You whine at the sensation of his gentle voice rumbling against your sensitive skin, your hand delving into his hair. “No idea about—hah—what?”

Zayne takes a moment to reply. His mouth is certainly distracted with the way it’s buried into your soaking cunt while his tongue laps at your inner lips, his nose brushing against your clit with each movement he makes.

“I hadn’t realized I was neglecting your needs,” he clarifies, cracking his eyes open just enough to look at you with hollowed cheeks as he sucks onto your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He releases it with a ‘pop’, his tongue quickly replacing his lips as he curls it in up and down motions that stimulate you in ways you can’t even comprehend. “My girl is too sweet to be treated like that,” he whispers, thumbing at your folds to give himself better access.

One of his hands continues to rub your thighs for some sort of comfort for his behavior, and soon, the other reaches up to take your hand in his own. You squeeze onto it immediately, finding the gesture to be much appreciated.

“So, you… mmh— you remember I exist after all?” Your words are meant as a joke, but he doesn’t seem to consider them as such with the way he presses a kiss to your clit before pulling away.

“Honey, I’m being serious,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on your thigh. “I’d never want to make it seem like I don’t consider you and your feelings.”

He gives your hand a squeeze before he smiles, adding an earnest, “and truth be told, I’m rather surprised that I’ve gone so long without tasting this pretty pussy of yours,” before he delves right back into eating you out like a man starved.

Zayne hasn’t noticed it until now, but he truly was starving, and not for the lunch that he left on his desk back at Akso Hospital. He wasn’t much for alcohol, but getting drunk on your pussy was one of his favorite pastimes, and he’ll never go this long without doing it again.

He was a man of science, and even then, he would never be able to explain the chemical imbalance that tasting you set off in his brain. Sure, medically speaking, the preoptic area of the brain is what triggers an erection, but what you did to him was far beyond that.

It was safe to say that Zayne was almost as in love with your pussy as he was with you, and judging by the way he’s making out with it right now, you have no doubts about that.

Your head tilts back against the headboard as he reintroduces his middle finger to your entrance, feeling the way your walls clench around it.

“Mm, quite sensitive, are we?” he lowly asks, licking a few swipes at your clit before adding, “Is it because you’ve been using your own hand for quite some time now?”

It’s almost pathetic how quickly you nod, your fingers grasping onto his dark locks as he presses an open-mouthed kiss onto your folds. “It’s the only choice I had,” you whine.

(He makes a mental note to give you his credit card so that you can purchase anything and everything you’ll need in order to satisfy yourself whenever he isn’t around. The fact that he hasn’t thought of that sooner is a problem in and of itself.)

He nods in return, though the movement only invites him to make hard licks at your pussy, collecting your slick on his tongue. His cock is rock hard, but he’ll get his turn soon enough.

Even if his turn never came, he’d be more than happy with this alone—that much was incredibly evident.

“I know it, my love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss on your sensitive clit as he slides another finger into your hole. “Is this alright?”

Your thighs tense up at the sensation, but you nod, tilting your head down to look at him. With your permission, he continues, his tongue swiping at you while his fingers fuck you into oblivion.

When you tilt your head back, he squeezes your thigh. “Eyes down here, I need you to watch closely.”

A sharp whine escaped you as his mouth somehow latched onto your pussy in the time it took you to look at him. He pulls off of you to speak, his lips coated with your arousal. “There will be times like this in which I won’t be able to give you what you need, and as much as it kills me, your pleasure can’t be limited to the times I can have you like this.”

You tilt your head. “What… what do you mean?”

Zayne nods his head, urging you to tune in. He curls fingers inside of you, hitting your g-spot with each push. “Hm. I suppose I can teach you how to touch yourself a bit more effectively. Would you like that?”

Your hand goes flying to his shoulder as you nod, your teeth pressing down onto your bottom lip. “Hah… mhm.”

He nods, grasping onto your hand. He presses a few kisses on your knuckles as he guides it to your clit, helping you swirl the pads of your fingers around it in smooth, moan-earning circles. “Very good. You look happier with me already.”

“You’re still a jerk,” you huff.

“I’m sure I have been behaving like one, yes,” he murmurs with a laugh. “Don’t let me off the hook too easily, either. I need to get a few orgasms out of you before you should consider that.”

That sounds perfectly fine to you, so all you do is moan in reply, which makes him smile. He likes to please his woman, and knowing that he hasn’t done a good job of that makes him even more determined to make up for it.

“It’s okay to use two hands, sweet girl,” he continues teaching, tilting his head towards his own hand that was still thrusting two fingers inside of you. “While it may be mine right now, yours will work just the same.”

Something switches inside of you the moment he begins to help you masturbate, his own fingers fucking inside of you while yours stimulate another part of your puffy cunt. You always had a thing for acts of service, but when it came from your boyfriend, you were practically putty in his hands.

“That’s right,” he purrs, a smile tugging on his lips. “Such a pretty girl. Perhaps you just needed to be reminded of how to treat yourself.”

His hazel eyes are still on your face, watching as you pinch in absolute ecstasy, your thighs shaking on his shoulders. “I see that I’ve underestimated you,” he teases, dipping his head to lick at your folds, his tongue brushing against your fingers as he continues to guide the movements of your hand. “It seems like you’re doing just fine for yourself after all.”

You huff, shaking your head. “No, no… it’s all you.”

Zayne chuckles at that, sucking your fingers that were circling your clit into his mouth before he places them back on your sensitive pearl, giving you a bit more lubricant. “There’s no need to be so hard on yourself, I’m merely helping you. We’re practicing together, sweetheart.”

You almost roll your eyes because the last thing Zayne needed was practice on how to please you. He may have been a bit distracted, but that could never take away from how perfect of a lover he was.

And… it was difficult not to be hard on yourself when he’s practically taken away your ability to orgasm on your own. With the way he’s making you feel right now, his absence was almost worth it.

Your eyes haze over as you look down at him, a soft moan leaving your lips. “Mmh, ‘m gonna cum,” you choke out.

To that, he nods in understanding. He thumbs apart your folds, leaving you to play with yourself as you please while he dips his head in to lick at your cunt in any way he can, feeling the way you clench around his fingers. “That’s right. Look at you, honey, such a quick learner.”

Zayne grasps onto your thigh with his free hand, pressing a few wet kisses along your inner skin as you come down from your high. Your hand still has a death grip on his hair, but he doesn’t mind it. He knows that he deserves to lose a few strands of hair after how he has left you alone.

You pant, your chest heaving as your body reels from your orgasm. While your vision is blurry, you can still make out the picture of your boyfriend sucking his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them free of your release.

“Mm, you know, the release from an orgasm does much to calm people,” he murmurs, giving your mound a chaste kiss before he rises up to give you one on your forehead. “Do you feel any better, my dear?”

You do feel better, but a part of you, one that you can’t quite shove away, is still yearning for more. Despite that, you nod, brushing your hand along his cheek as he dips his head to give you a kiss.

Sugary and sweet are two words you’d used to describe kissing Zayne, because those were adjectives you’d also use to detail how he always behaves when around you.

He pulls away from the kiss, propping himself up on his elbow above you while he uses his other hand to brush away your hair. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, his voice soft and full of a raw honesty that makes your heart squeeze.

You shake your head with a smile. “I know you didn’t mean to,” you reply. “It’s just… you made me feel like you didn’t need me, like what I felt was one sided.”

Zayne’s expression seems to soften as he shakes his head. “Of course I need you, I always need you. Your needs are never one-sided, especially not needs of this nature.” He brushes his hand over your cheek. “And I was serious about my endeavors of making it up to you, sweetness. C’mere.”

Before you know it, you’re plucked from your position on the bed and carried to the corner of the bedroom. Zayne takes a seat in the rocking chair positioned there, spinning it around until it faces the body length mirror just in front of the two of you.

He then undresses you entirely, kissing along your thighs, your hips, the curves of your back, on the cheek of your ass—everywhere and anywhere he could. Sure enough, you hear the rattling of his metal belt buckle behind you, and when you glance over your shoulder, his cock is pulled out from the confines of his boxers.

His slacks are still bunched up around his thighs, as are his boxers, but he pays no mind to it. He raises two fingers as he beckons you to sit in his lap, and you do.

Zayne rests one hand on your hip while the other grasps onto his shaft, pumping it in his fist a few times before he smears the head of his cock along your folds, gathering your slick. “The ‘teaching’ is over, but now, I simply want to show you just how much I need you.”

His words stir something within you, and when he leans up to press a kiss on your shoulder, you already feel like your lover is here to live up to his word. “Is that alright?” he asks against your skin, prodding your entrance with his tip.

When you nod, you’re already sinking down, taking him inch by inch until you’re cockwarming his thick length. He smiles at you in the reflection of the mirror, his eyes drifting over your body that he will never forget to worship again.

“So beautiful,” he coos, his hands mapping out the curves of your waist, your hips, your thighs. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush at his words. “Thanks.”

Zayne shakes his head. “There’s no need to thank me for speaking the truth,” he whispers. “That’d be like thanking Einstein for developing the theories of special and general relativity—it’s practically a given.”

You aren’t sure where the correlation is, but when one of his hands slips in between your thighs while the other grasps onto one of your breasts, you don’t care about fighting it out.

“Point is, I mean it. Every word,” he adds.

You feel like a goddess being worshiped as his mouth finds your shoulder, the smacking of his lips omitting into the otherwise quiet room as he places open-mouthed kisses on your skin. His middle and ring finger work to toy with your clit, his other hand squeezing onto your breast.

And then… he begins to rock.

You gasp at the feeling of his cock just barely moving inside of you, your body entirely engulfed in the sensations that he is so eagerly providing you.

“You feel—hah—so, so good,” he whispers against your skin, his lips climbing the curve of your shoulder. His fingers circle your clit at an agonizingly slow pace, and when you place your hand on his to guide his movements, he smiles at you in the reflection. “There’s my girl. Such a quick learner, just like I said.”

You lazily return his smile, your head resting back on his shoulder. He removes his hand from your breast to pluck his glasses from his face, placing them on yours instead.

“My baby is such a smart girl,” he purrs, his lips finding your neck as he admires you. Flushed skin, hair messed up, his glasses resting on your nose. He could come inside you at the sight, but he wants to prolong this. He doesn’t ever want to leave this moment with you. “And so beautiful too. Absolutely ravishing.”

You chuckle at that, though your laughter was interrupted by a soft moan as his fingers pick up the pace as they circle your puffy clit. “You’re… hah—handsome,” you manage to return.

Zayne chuckles at your words, nodding his head as a silent thank you. He presses another kiss on your shoulder, though he quickly leaves another one once you begin to rock your hips. He sits back, catching a glimpse of how you look when you bounce on his cock.

He grins, his hand finding the swell of your ass as he gives both cheeks a nice squeeze. “We can move back to our bed if you’d prefer, sweetheart. I don’t want you to have to put in any more effort into your pleasure tonight.”

You shake your head, glancing over your shoulder to look at him. “I wanna see you,” you breathe.

“Honey, there are positions—”

He’s interrupted by your hand reaching back to hold his jaw, pulling him up so that he too could see the reflection of you both in the mirror.

And oh, was it a sight.

“I wanna see you,” you repeat.

Zayne is in no position to deny you, so with a nod of approval, his hands find your hips. “At the very least, let me help you.”

The sound of slapping skin and your breathy moans fill the room, his large hands keeping their iron grip on your hip bones while your hands rest on top of his. He peers out from behind you, watching as your tits bounce just as you do, your hair flying messily.

“Pretty baby,” he pants, more to himself in reaction to the mere sight of you. “Such a lucky man you’ve made me, fuck… take it, baby, yeah. I love you so much, so much…” he babbles, not quite sure what he’s saying, just that he’s speaking whatever graces his mind.

“Oh, I… I love you too, Zayne,” you gasp.

You whine, grinding your hips in fluid motions as you feel your second orgasm quickly approaching. You were sensitive to begin with, and the feeling of his cock stretching you out was more than enough to bring you here.

“Shit,” he rasps, his head falling back onto the rocking chair as his eyes screw shut. “You take me so well, you fit me so perfectly, baby… I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna… oh, shit.”

You weren’t far behind him, and as your movements grow lazier, you opt to sit on his cock entirely as the both of you find your orgasms only second apart.

Ropes of white paint your insides, your cum coating the base of his cock as the two of you become one in a way that you’ve missed so dearly.

Only bliss envelopes the two of you as you slump back onto his chest, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close to him. The two of you sit just like that for a moment as you find your breaths that have run off, relishing in the feeling of your combined warmth.

Zayne reaches up to carefully grasp your jaw, turning your head back just enough so that he could kiss you. Your breaths mingle to add to the scent of your love that looms in the air, his other hand running soothing strides along your hip.

“I don’t deserve you,” he breathlessly says with a lovesick grin. “Quite frankly, I don’t. You’re wonderful to me.”

You shake your head, leaning down to kiss him again before he slowly helps you up onto your trembling legs. “Oh, stop that. Just because you’ve been a little caught up with work doesn’t mean that you’re suddenly a bad partner.”

Zayne sweeps you into his arms, carrying you bridal style towards the bathroom. “See? You’re simply too good to me. Such a lovely personality, the most contagious laugh I’ve ever heard, the cutest snores when you sleep, the sweetest pussy in existence… my dream girl in all capacities.”

You smile as he sets you down, pressing a kiss onto your forehead as he crosses the room to draw you a shower to your liking. Warm—not cold, but not hot enough to the point that your skin tingles. He’s had plenty of practice in this area, and he’s gotten it down to a science by now.

“I do not snore,” you murmur, shaking your head.

As he peels off his clothes, discarding them without care on the bathroom tile. He extends his hand to you to invite you inside the shower behind him. “Mhm, sure you don’t.”

You scoff, tipping the toilet seat shut. “You can tease me for my snoring once you, my 27-year-old man, master the art of putting the damn seat down.”

“…Oops.”

note. my dr. zayne would never forget to please his woman! but i really liked the concept sooooo :3 it was rly difficult for me to write him lol the dialogue might suuuuuckkkk but i hope i did him justice < 3 thank you for reading, interact if you enjoyed !!!

i ALSO kinda wanna do a similar version of this with sylus except… not nearly as gentle ig?? would you be interested??? do let me know.

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[yawnderu]

honestly i would die for bimbo!reader to have some sort of Legally Blonde level of intelligence but for the stupidest, most useless shit. no, she can't remember which knob turns on which burner for the stove, but she can tell you the effects of different chemical compounds found in all her favorite skincare products and now they react to an individuals derma-layer. simon once caught her watching a screensaver on TV for 30 min because she thought it was "a reeeeally slow nature documentary /:", but she's fluent in Korean because she got super into Korean make up brands from her favorite influencers and wanted to be able to read the product ingredients/reviews/tutorials, it just never gets brought up otherwise and when someone asks in disbelief she's all "what, like it's hard?"

and simon is just sooooo so so proud of his smart pretty girl. who cares that she thought soap's parents legally named him after a dishwashing product. can mactavish tell him how to tell dupes from authentic handbags based on the inner stitching that can only be done on machines specially made by Italian companies? no? then shut the fuck up. tell us more about glitter lipgloss, beautiful.

Absolutely!! She may be dim-witted when it comes to certain things, but she's not exactly dumb at all. This girl could recite the laws of astrophysics and solve complex mathematical problems while being piss drunk.

Simon is still amazed by how complex his sweet girl is— he knows she isn't stupid, yet it never fails to surprise him how you start speaking to MacTavish in fluent Scottish Gaelic, only offering the explanation that you learnt it because a character on your favorite movie spoke it once, looking at him like he grew a second head when he sheepishly told you most scottish people don't speak Gaelic anymore.

Sure, you may have thought movies were real and used to avoid watching them because you thought the actors were actually getting killed and you didn't want to support that, yet a window of your house is full of math equations that gave him a headache just by looking at them.

I'd say Simon sees bimbo!reader as a box full of surprises, telling him about something new every single time you have a conversation. How did you get into studying astrophysics? You got the highest score in the university admission exam and saw a poster that was shiny and had cute stars and a pretty nebula!! How could you resist when everything about it called for you?

Mhm, the smell of gunpowder and blood that sticks to him no matter what is such an odd perfume, yet it surely has an interesting molecular makeup! Of course it does, pretty girl.

They complement each other so well because Simon has the street smarts she's lacking, and she has the book smarts Simon doesn't. She can be extremely ditzy, but who cares when she can tell him exactly which inks are recommended for his skin and which chemicals can rough up his face? He had to buy a brand-new eye black stick simply because you could tell the materials used on it by applying it on your hand with a frown.

I'd like to imagine her as someone with lots of odd interests, knowledge and hyperfixations in the dumbest things besides the universe. He has to keep up with you buying materials for making bracelets and keeping a room full of dinosaur plushies.

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[hctsummernights]

my smart girl

in which...stay at home husband!chris sends lawyer!reader off to her very first day at the law firm with a little motivation<3

fluffy making out, part of the tortured poets department au

648 words...enjoy!

You let out a shaky sigh as you screwed the applicator back on your lip gloss. Today was your first official day at the law firm you’d been hired at, and you were still having a hard time believing that you were a lawyer and that there was a JD next to your name. It seemed impossible that undergrad, taking the LSAT, law school, and taking the bar exam had already flown by. No longer did you have to worry about sleepless nights cramming for tests. Instead, you now had to worry about the fact that you would be someone’s lawyer. 

You placed the tube of lip gloss into the inner pocket of your blazer, switching the light off in the bathroom and heading down the stairs of your home to the kitchen. Despite the fact that it was only 7 am, you could hear your husband, Chris, puttering around in the kitchen. Your heart absolutely melted when you walked into the room and saw a plate of heart shaped pancakes sat next to your briefcase and a steaming cup of coffee. 

“Baby, you didn’t have to.” You smiled, wrapping him in a hug and kissing him gently. 

“But I wanted to.” Chris fired back, sipping his own cup of coffee. 

Your and your husband’s dynamic was rather unconventional, seeing as how you went to work and he stayed at home, despite the fact that you two didn’t have any children yet. But you knew that Chris loved being a homemaker. You could see it in his eyes when he tried out a new recipe or tended to the small garden you had in the backyard, or spent hours scrolling on Pinterest when it came time to decorate for Christmas. 

“I’m nervous,” You admitted softly as you dug into the pancakes. “What if I do something wrong?”

“Babe. You earned this,” Chris reassured you as he began to pile dishes into the sink for later. “You aced the bar.”

“I know…I just. Imposter syndrome, I guess. I don’t feel like or look like a real lawyer.” You sighed, rinsing your plate and setting it in the dishwasher. 

“I think you do,” Chris smiled, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly as his eyes roamed over your body in your blazer and skirt combo. You being powerful and intelligent turned your husband on beyond belief. Seeing you fulfill the dream that you’d had since you were a little girl was sexy. Before you knew, his hands were snaking around your waist, pulling you closer. “Y’think a lil good luck kiss would calm your nerves?”

“Yeah.” You breathed softly. 

Chris pushed some hair away from your face, careful of the style you’d so meticulously crafted for your first day at your new job. At first, his kisses were gentle, soft pecks to calm your nerves. But as you reciprocated, the kisses became more powerful, claiming you as his wife. His smart, sexy, wife that now had a JD next to her name. 

The brunette pushed your back against the granite of the kitchen island, hands roaming your body, but remaining mindful of your work outfit as you made out. No matter how long you had been together, making out with Chris was never a dull moment. The feelings were passionate and intense as his tongue slid alongside your own, leaving you desperate for more. 

As the feelings plateaued, your husband planted one more kiss on your cheek before pulling back. “I guess I gotta let ya go, huh?”

You nodded shyly, still feeling like the same jittery girl that he had first met. “I guess so…here I go.”

Your husband handed you your to-go cup of coffee and briefcase, giving you one last glance over before patting your ass softly. “Kill ‘em, baby.”

“I expect a full five course meal when I get home tonight.” You joked. 

“You betcha.”

a/n: where is MY stay at home husband!chris

tags ♡: @emely9274 @tyummyz @55sturn @pr3ttyf4wn @quinnysnursery @nicksbestie @watercolorskyy

[kaybreezy3000]

Summary: Five is your employer and he's not happy with you. As the night unfolds, you have a very unexpected encounter with him...

~Rated somewhere between G and Mature because, like many of my stories, you can easily skip the sexually explicit parts. (see notes)

This story takes place where we left off with season three, but 5 years later. The name is a nod to hints of what might be coming, though I doubt the Netflix writers are going with my little storyline I have created for you.

~This one is sort of gift to all fanfiction readers and writers. May you always keep passwords on our documents and devices, or maybe not... 😂👌

Warnings: Mildly sexual themes in the middle. This does turn sexually explicit in the second half, but you don't need to read that part to enjoy the story and there is a warning when that starts if you aren't into all that stuff.

(8,711 words)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Hargreeves home for wayward boys'

It was the end of the day and the Hargreeves family had all disappeared. You knew they were somewhere privately hashing things out, but as just a lowly intern working on their project, staying for that to happen was not necessary. They would call you later to give their decision and then you’d submit the order.

Speaking of which, your phone rang with a call from your boss and it distracted you as you were collecting your things. Arms full and not realizing you had forgotten something, you used your backend to bump open the large doors of the Umbrella Academy. The doors clicked closed behind you and you walked out into the refreshingly cool evening air. 

Downstairs in the musty kitchen, Allison threw her head back, letting out a tired sigh before saying, “Guys, arguing is getting us nowhere. We need to end this debate. The order needs to be placed today or we won’t have the sign back when the masons are scheduled to be here to install it.”

Viktor set his empty mug on the counter next to a pair of Grace’s discarded rubber dishwashing gloves. “Why don’t we just vote on it?” he proposed, uneasily glancing at Five.

“I say we go with ‘The Hargreeves Home for Wayward Boys,” Diego loudly declared while raising his arm high, to which the rest of the Hargreeves abruptly raised their hands, making it a unanimous vote, if not for Five, sitting forward with his head in his hands and his elbows on the kitchen table as he venomously glared at all of them.

Five locked eyes with Luther. “Really?” he snapped.

His brother nervously smiled. “Ah… Sorry. I changed my mind, buddy.”

“Don’t call me buddy.” Five angrily shook his head. “You changed your mind, huh? Sorry to inform you but clearly this one doesn’t work any better!”

Not getting Five’s belittling joke, Luther looked to Ben who silently rolled his eyes for about the hundredth time in the last hour.

“And you,” Five roared, pointing his finger at him. “You had shown signs of intelligence but now I have my doubts. Maybe if you keep rolling your eyes like that you might find evidence of a brain up there. This name doesn’t even make any sense! We aren’t just admitting boys!”

“Sure it does,” Lila disagreed. “You’re the only one who doesn’t think so but that’s because it’s very hard for children to think clearly when they haven’t had their nap. Should we call Grace to fetch your blankie and to make your bottle so you can go to bed early?”

Five balled his hands into fists under the table. “You should use glue instead of Chapstick. I hear it does wonders for making you more tolerable to be around,” he childishly shot back, to which Lila laughed at him. “So, this is it…nobody else thinks that name sounds awful?” he hissed at anyone still looking at him.

Getting up with a loud squeal of his wooden chair leg on the cracked linoleum flooring, Klaus patted Five on the upper back, but his brother jerked away from the gesture. “Oh, come on, Five,” he said followed by an airy laugh. “It’s perfect. Even that cute intern upstairs thought so. After we gave her the low down dirty-dirty on our real family history, she’s the one that came up with it.”

Five scowled even more.

“Ahhh,” Diego obliviously sighed. “Things are finally coming together with this project and I’m feeling a Hargreeves style celebration coming on.” He draped his arm around the back of Lila’s, chair looking at her, but she was too busy smirking at Five’s increasingly animated display of sour expressions.

“Let’s all go out!” Klaus excitedly added. “I know a great place for karaoke.” Five got up, slinging his suit coat over his shoulder as he started to walk away but Klaus snatched his arm. “Hold it! You’re coming with us.”

Five swifty swatted his hand away, distastefully brushing his brother’s invisible fingerprints from the crisp sleeve of his white dress shirt. “I’d rather shove a pinecone up my ass and let it sit in there until it dissolved than have to be in the presence of all of you for even five more minutes,” he smoothly retorted while flipping up his cuff to check the time.

Klaus’s bright eyes grew wide with glee. “If you are looking for things to shove up your ass, I can think of way more painfully pleasant options. Come on, let me tell you all about it while we decide where we are going to eat.”

Skirting around the table, Five dodged Klaus before he could drag him in with the rest of the group, who were now talking about dinner plans and the epic songs they were going to belt out later.

After breaking away and muttering under his breath that they were all a bunch of idiots, Five slowly wandered up the stairs. With his fists firmly jammed in his pockets and his shoulders inclined forward, his gaze remained empty, though his thoughts were anything but.

After making numerous other suggestions, they had all disregarded his concerns, just like they always did. Whether it was trying to help them avoid apocalyptic ends or simply being somewhere at a specific time to save their own asses, he never could win in this family. 

Five cringed as he thought about the name they wanted to use and what it was really referring to.

He was the embodiment of the wayward boy in his family’s less than glorious story. Worst yet, the nod to Homer’s Odyssey, being that it was a narrative Reginald had forced them to remember, was just one of the millions of reasons why, in his head, this was a horrible choice.

That man was an evil incarnate, and Five may have for a time wanted his love and acceptance or even in the very least, his recognition, but he never got them. They’d been used and dumped in a new world without their powers, but at least they had been left with their identities and their childhood home, but those days of bowing to that vile alien who was parading around as a man were long gone.

Five did not want to be associated in any way with Reginald Hargreeves and that title for their new foundation did just that.

“How could they not see that?” he asked himself, trying to work through all this but coming up with nothing other than they were morons. “The last name Hargreeves was already on half the buildings in the city!” he shouted to no one, his voice getting eaten up in the long corridor as his dress shoes stomped along the black and white tiled floor.

As Five watched his siblings raise their hands in favor of the symbolic title, he felt even more set apart from them than he ever had. That feeling wasn’t anything new, and there were many reasons for it, but today, he’d had enough of them not listening to him and he wasn’t about to let this one go until he’d tried one more avenue of attack.

Tromping through the foyer, thinking he’d see you or the lead designer, Five glanced inside the formal dining room but neither of you were there. Looking over the stacks of blueprints on the table, Five spotted your laptop. It was lying among the other items strewn in the large mess but your coat and bag that had been hanging on the back of the chair were gone. Thinking you must have forgotten it and that you had gone for the day, he picked up the streamlined electronic device and carried it with him out of the room.

He’d been dying to lay into you for convincing his family that this asinine idea was the way to go. Sadly, since you weren’t there, that would have to wait, and that left him in no better mood, but as he carried your laptop down the hall, he was quickly developing a new plan.

Thinking of you, Five could just see you looking at him like you always did-cautiously but kindly. 

You were always professional and extra nice to him in your interactions, despite him being dismissively rude at times. You’d laugh off his detached behavior and truthfully, he didn’t mind the sound of it, or your sweet smiles, or how your legs looked under your many skirts and smart little slingback heels. He’d never let himself do more than appreciate the view when you weren’t looking, and he’d thought you were about as harmless as a sideways walking chipmunk that had been marinated in fertilizer.

He was wrong on that, and worse yet, he simply didn’t get you, and Five did not like when he didn’t understand things.

His lips pulled to the side as he noted your almost unnatural ability to remain persistently positive when working with a bunch of ridiculous assholes. Looking past some of your more appealing qualities, he quickly concluded that you were about as stupid and fake as fake could get.

You had stepped on the wrong man’s toes and this meant war.

With steam practically billowing out his ears over how mad he was at you, Five became absorbed in the thought of pissing some sunshine into your Clever Crisp cereal and he knew just the way to do it and get rid of you at the same time.

“Perfect fucking idea my ass,” he said through clenched teeth as his diabolical grin spread.

Five opened Reginald’s old office door and flopped down at the large mahogany desk. Flipping the laptop open, he flexed his fingers, his eyes roaming over the keys as the screen came to life.

They could call the design team and tell them the decision was made, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something about it and make it look like you were the one that fucked things up, which as an added bonus that would probably get you fired.

If the very expensive stone signage they were ordering came and didn’t say what his family had wanted it to say, at that point, you’d be in deep shit, and he’d simply look the other way feigning innocence. He’d argue that at that point it was an issue of money and managing their extremely tight budget, so, to be sensible, they should just go with it as is-which would be his title of choice.

To Five, this was a win-win. Nosy intern fired, and no more demeaning name that was a reference to him, mockingly hanging above the academy’s front door.

It was a simple matter of typing in his idea in the order form, and sitting in front of him was the means to do it. Call or no call, he’d send this in first. The work would get started and it would be too late.

Five was no hacker but over the last few years of being holed up at the Umbrella Academy due to having to live the life of a shut-in teenager again, he’d learned a thing or two about modern tech. With a few clicks, he was into your files.

“Where is it?” he hummed as his eyes ran over the images of little manila folders. There were tons of them and the way you had them labeled was not helping.

Clicking on one that appeared to have image files attached to it had seemed logical, since he was looking for a mockup of the graphic design they’d be using going forward for all their letterhead and signage.

“Shit,” Five scoffed as he saw tiny blips of hundreds of your personal photos. These had nothing to do with what he needed and that also meant this computer was not just something you used for work. He was just about to close the file since it was obviously personal in nature but then an image of you when you were slightly younger caught his eye.

Your cheeks were a little bit rounder and your hair a little longer. When he clicked on the next shot and it was one where you were on some kind of vacation and you were wearing a swimsuit, he leaned forward.

He stared at the picture, suddenly intrigued. Opening more pictures, Five realized that same bright smile of yours never faltered in any one of the shots.

It had never crossed his mind that he’d see anything personal while he was digging through your computer, but here it all was and all he had to do was open the files because you foolishly didn’t password protect them.

Driven by curiosity and with nothing else to do for the night, Five dug deeper into your world. He found files with old college assignments which he skimmed over with only moderate interest. Then, clicking on a folder that seemed harmlessly titled, he found himself completely distracted, all at once, totally forgetting what he’d been searching for.

Five scooched even closer to the screen.

The first file he opened was relatively small and he read through it quickly. It was written like some sort of story, or more like part of one. It was about a man who found himself in a version of his body that was much younger looking than he should be. Miraculously he had been through hell and back, and mentally he was much older than he looked, but outwardly he didn’t look any older than his physical age of eighteen. The details of how this all came to be weren’t in this part of her story, but Five immediately recognized the familiarity of the storyline, and he instantly started plowing through the other files in that folder in a sudden need to know what else you’d written about him.

The files were like snippets of a larger story, not yet fully written or interconnected the way a novel would be, but all of them involved the same two characters, and the scenes were incredibly familiar but also not. Changes to how they actually occurred in real life were subtle enough to make what he was reading fiction, but the similarities were what agitated him and had his defenses on high alert. Even more than that, the male character in your writings was a perfect description of him in all but his name, and the female, though barely described, very much resembled you.

The story laid out that the male character was the infamously lost son of a very wealthy man whose influence held the entire world by the throat. After appearing out of the blue on the doorstep of his family home after years of being missing, this boy chose to keep to himself but that didn’t mean people weren’t aware he was back.

He intentionally carried himself apart from all others, always dressed impeccably, with his dark hair neatly smoothed to one side. He was cold and calculating and always moved with intent, brooding in his mannerisms, but the female in the story also described him as so breathtakingly handsome, when he thought no one was looking and he dared to crack a smile her heart stopped.

“She thinks I’m handsome…?” Five breathed as he read on.

The female narrator went on to say, ‘It turned out, that he could storm around the near empty academy all day if he wanted, or even call the president and claim that he was now a 59-year-old man, but sadly that didn’t mean a thing if you had no proof and you looked like a kid parading around in your fancy big boy clothes.’

Five’s stomach dropped through the floor. There was no way this wasn’t about him, and you weren't even trying to hide it!

Talking to a character that was said to be one of this tragic figure’s brother’s, the female in the story was told that the boy had no other choice but to abide by laws of normal men unless he wanted to risk the state forcing him into the foster system. All this left him with little choice and a very bad taste in his mouth and he’d been lashing out for years with vengeance about it, ironically acting just like the temperamental teenager he appeared to be.

By the time the woman in the story had come to work for him, years had passed and this character was technically not a kid anymore. Again, because he was too proud to move in with any of his siblings, he’d served his time living behind the walls of the academy his family owned, but those difficult days were no more. It was time to move on, but the female character could see that for all her employer’s outward confidence, the man inside the boy wasn’t sure how to do that.

He still hadn’t found his place in the world. He lived in limbo, completely alone, other than the presence of a robot housekeeper that he called Grace, and his siblings still called mom.

He went out but did not act as someone would who was his outward age, yet it wasn’t really his fault because he couldn’t partake in what those his real age did. He dressed like a man on a mission though he had no reason to anymore. Three-piece suits on a teenager and his smug expressions and even more caustically biting words weren’t gaining him any friends on his daily outings or within the tight circle of those he trusted and called family.

The female narrator said, outwardly, he was one thing, but inside, he felt like a joke.

His sharp green eyes spoke of his true age and the trauma of the life he’d lived, but he kept himself in check most of the time, never letting his guard down or letting anyone in for fear that they would see how much he suffered and still does.

Despite his cruelties to even her, the female protagonist said she saw right through him and under all of it was someone very special.

She said he was worthy of so much more than he was letting himself have.

“What the fuck? What the hell does she mean by special and worthy? My life is just fine!” Five fumed.

Five wasn’t just furious about this, he was confused. It didn’t seem like you were trying to actually write a book since none of this it was in any form of order, but he was stumped as to why else you’d be writing such things other than to exploit him somehow and make money by trying to sell some bullshit tell-all story about his fucked-up life.

Five shook with fury, his knuckles white as he clenched the wooden armrests on Reginald’s old high back chair.

You had called him out but did so safely from his pretend female’s perspective. 

You said this male’s lack of interest in others was just a way to hide how vulnerable and lonely he truly felt! 

You said that all his arrogance and cocky remarks were nothing more than a sign that he was desperate for love that he’d never been given, and now didn’t know how to reach for.

You said you felt bad for him!

“I don’t need her fucking sympathy!” Five seethed as he angrily clicked on another much longer file in your writing folder.

Right off, he could tell this one was much different than the others he’d read about your daily exchanges in this fictional yet not fictional narrative you’d been writing.

It was set in the same work setting, set in the large manor that the deceptively young male lived. The characters were in a richly decorated office, with dark paneled walls and low light filtering in from the setting sun as it bled through the stained-glass windowpanes.  You didn’t need to say this was once this man’s notoriously cruel father’s office because Five to know you were trying to describe the room he was sitting in right now.

The male was sitting in the regal looking chair behind the desk, smug as ever as he stared at the girl sitting on top of his desk. His cool, calculating eyes devoured the entire length of her legs while he slowly but deliberately pushed them apart at the knees, spreading them wide.

Five’s breath hitched as that line and the images described in it played over and over in his head like a naughty ping pong ball.

That saucy passage was Five’s first indication that this story was not like the others, and that what he was about to read was not going to be at all like what he’d read so far. 

This had turned into some kind of fictional love affair.

Itching heat started to crawl up Five’s neck once he reached the third paragraph and the first lines of dialogue were laid out with perfect effect.

With this male shamelessly observing under her skirt, the girl was not wearing any panties, she grinned and playfully purred, “You can have me any way you want…”

From there, the two characters proceeded to take things to a place between them that Five had never considered until it was literally being spelled out for him.

As Five read on, parts of him were waking up that had nothing to do with his anger concerning you. The document he was reading was essentially like taking a very seductive trip inside your mind and maybe even more surprising, seeing something that was inside his. It was a firsthand description of how you really saw him, what you wanted from him, and maybe even more scandalously what you wanted to do to him.

Five was not familiar with this kind of writing and the only way he could describe it was explicit, with the descriptions of what was going on being detailed enough that he read the words with a slightly gapped mouth and a rapidly quickening pulse.

The previous files he’d read had focused on emotional and psychological themes, making the barefaced sexual purpose of this one all the more shocking. He had no idea you were attracted to him and found his appearance and flippantly dick-ish behavior so appealing.

If he’d thought you made no sense before, now he was beyond baffled by you.

As the scene he read moved past him pleasuring you, on to your character kneeling down on the floor between his legs as he confidently opened his pants and he told you to get to work, Five took in a long, deep breath.

He reactively moved his hand over the heat between his legs, his palm pressing down the hard length that was beginning to make itself known under the tightening stretch of fabric covering him.

In spite of his flawlessly pale skin, Five was typically not the type to blush, but by the time he was done reading your story, he felt like his face was on fire and his body was going to spontaneously combust. Unable to stop himself, Five began to more intently rub his aroused flesh where it remained hidden under the wool of his pants.

He started reading the story again, and he was so taken by it all that he didn’t hear you walking down the hall.

“Oh, there it is,” you said as you walked in and saw the back of your laptop sitting in front of the last person you had figured you see with it. To make it more bizarre, you didn’t remember leaving it in there and Five was looking at it with the most intense expression you’d ever seen him make.

With worry hitting you with the unforgiving force of a tanker truck, you rushed around the large piece of furniture separating you to see what had captured his attention so fully that he only just now looked up at you, finally registering that you were there.

With his hands flying up from his lap, Five tried to clear the screen.

Seeing the title to your very, very naughty story about him on the autosave line, you shrieked out a plethora of swear words, some which you just made up on the fly. Five was sure to have never heard some of your more imaginative curses prior to that moment, but you were pretty sure their meaning was not lost on him based on how he was backing away from you.

You slammed the laptop closed. Then you covered your face with your hands and started pacing as you incoherently mumbled.

Through the cracks between your fingers, you could see Five was clearly stunned by what had just transpired. He looked like his brain had stopped working, which was impressive since he was a genius.

Great. You broke the poor man and all it took was literarily getting your fuck on with him!

You were sure he was going to start flipping out but to your surprise, Five said your name. It came out so soft and unsure and nothing like the way he normally spoke to you. It was the first time he’d ever acknowledged that he even knew your name. You had thought that to him, you were just another nameless person they’d hired.

Hearing it, you dropped your hands, revealing a face so red that it only made your body’s less than desirable flushing response accelerate even more, and then you got redder.

Not sure what to say, your next words burst from your mouth. “You must think I am a perverted weirdo! I swear I am not… It’s just…a silly hobby. I- I write things to get them out of my head and I always delete them. I wasn’t going to-"

You didn’t know how to explain yourself, so you squeezed your eyes shut rather than take another second of him sitting there, still as a statue, staring at you in what you could only guess was horror.

If you weren’t sure that Five was gearing up to bite your head off and report you to the police, you’d almost think his own red-faced expression of distress was cute, but that was only if you didn’t know better. Under his boyish charm, there was a very dangerous man that was about to spring to life. That person had no interest or reason to show someone who’d invaded his privacy any mercy.

Trying to save your ass, you sputtered, “I never write stuff like that, it’s just… Shit. This is basically my worst nightmare. I am so sorry.”  You let out a broken sounding moan. You turned around, burying your face in your hands again. “Don’t worry, I am going. I will submit my resignation right away and I will delete that right now.”

Starting to cry, you moved to do just that but Five scared the hell out of you when he snatched your hand away and didn’t let go.

His eyes narrowed and your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. You tried yanking your hand back, but he held fast. “Stop!” he ordered, and you did, sort of. Your entire body trembled as you uselessly pulled it back, trying to get away. Reeling you back in to face him, Five calmly said, “You better not quit.”

What?

Had you heard him right?

God, he was close. You could feel the heat from his body and the warmth of his breath hitting your lips.

“Please stop crying,” he whispered.

You shook your head.

Undeterred by your inability to speak or to stop your sniffles, Five moved his hand to your waist and his penetrating eyes bore into yours, making it impossible to look away. “That little story there…” 

He stopped speaking. Suddenly looking flustered he ran his hand back through his hair, rumpling it in the most adorable way. 

“You haven’t asked me what I thought about your writing?” he finally said, his voice so low and threatening sounding that you weren’t sure why your feet weren’t moving so you could high-tail it out of there.

Your reply came out as anxious sounding as you felt. “I don’t need to ask. I can tell by the way you are looking at me that you think I am nuts, and you hate me.”

Five drew in a deep breath, his eyes floating to the ceiling for a moment before he held your eye again and countered, “Well, if you think that, then you are right about the other things you wrote about me. I am a complete asshole and treat people like shit, but that is not my intent right now, despite my past and what my face says. You were very accurate and astute when it comes to nailing down who I really am, but perhaps when it comes to how I really feel about all this, and you, you shouldn’t be looking at my face.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, Five slid his arm around your waist, pulling your hips flush with his, and that forceful maneuver made it very clear what he thought about what you wrote.

Wiping your eyes as your heart raced, you muttered a very unintelligent sounding, “Oh.”

Five’s excruciatingly soft looking lips pulled up on one side, the look of it matching what you only now recognized in the sparking emerald of his shining eyes. There was a menacing level of mischief in him that was all the more strengthened by his burning arousal.

Confidently taking you by the wrist, Five led you back to the desk. Pressing you back against the unforgiving wood surface, directly between him and his chair as he said, “I am sorry I have been so…” His smile widened and you felt like you could melt from the sheer sight of his dimple deepening. “I have been so blind. You are right about everything you said about me.”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you tried not to lose it over the way he was looking at you or the feel of his fingers trailing up your thighs, not stopping until they were hidden just under the hem of your skirt where he let them settle.

Not sure what was happening, you shakily asked, “How much did you read?”

“All of it.... Twice,” he blew across your lips as his teasingly hovered so close it was making you dizzy. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. Your writing is very good,” Five added as he flipped your hair aside and his mouth brushed with featherlight gentleness against your neck, making spiraling fireworks of tingles run up and down your spine.

You shut your eyes, feeling like you were having an outer body experience as Five placed tender but persistently more certain kisses along your throat and the shell of your ear.

“You’re not mad?” you quietly asked, lost in his extremely loving touches.

Five’s fingers came up, moving a strand of hair from your forehead before those same fingertips tickled across your cheek then gripped your chin, forcing your face up next to his.

Your droopy eyes reactively flipped open.

“No. I am not mad,” he quietly responded, the comforting green of his eyes all but overtaken with the darkness of his growing lust. “I was mad at first and not just because you like to write stories about me. At first, I was hell bent on ending you for interfering in matters that don’t concern you. Pushing my family to choose such an inadequate name for our foundation was your crime and I was going to make you pay, but I see all that a little differently now. Funny how hearing a little truth done in the right way can make a very old fool see the light,” he finished with a chuckle that sounded so unbelievably charming coming from such a normally serious person.

“You don’t like the name, and you wanted to end me? That’s why you stole my laptop?”

Five laughed again. “Thanks to you, the name might be growing on me.” Ignoring your other questions he somewhat less assuredly said, “Is it true what you said about me… That part you wrote about how in the face of how much I lost, the fact that I never stopped fighting to change things for the better was the most admirable and important quality a person could have?”

“Yes. Of course I meant it.  You’re an example of what it means to be strong and not give up and that’s what these kids coming here need, and that is why I suggested that name after hearing your brother Klaus ramble on for hours about your life and how wonderful you are. You are someone they can look up to and that name seemed like it spoke of the trials yet also many triumphs of your amazing life.” Seeing Five’s face light up and feeling brave, you cautiously added, “From what I hear, we are all lucky you never gave up and aren’t lost anymore. If not for you, there wouldn’t be a world left. We owe our life to you.”

Five looked down at the minimal space between you, his dark lashes fanning his beautifully flushed cheeks.

“That’s not necessarily true, and in many ways, I am still lost,” he admitted. “You were right, I push people away. I lack basic social skills and I have been way too much of an arrogant prick to own that, and for it, I am alone.” His smoldering eyes flipped back up. “But I don’t want that. I want someone that sees me the way you do and isn’t scared of who I really am.”

The slightest tic as his jaw tensed was the only sign that Five wasn’t as sure of himself as he appeared.  

“Are you scared of me?” he provocatively lured, almost as if he were baiting you.

You croaked back a very embarrassing sounding, “No.”

Looking like he loved that, Five excitedly asked, “Good, then will you let me show you how sorry I am for being a dick, and how much I appreciate you making me see all this in a new way? You are right. Nothing sticks it to my old man like making this place in name and purpose into something about giving people less fortunate a second chance. That is not what Reginald was about and using his name and things he knows are a jab at him is a perfect fuck you.”

That smile of Five’s that could explode a girl’s lady bits came out to play again and with it his hand ran down your back, gripping you by hard on the ass.

“Since you seemed to like the idea of it, and you haven’t kicked me in the balls yet, will you give me a chance to make your fiction come to life?”  he courteously questioned, though none of this conversation had anything to do with any form of normal social decorum.

As his words hit home, Five quirked a dark brow at you, and again, ever so subtly, he let you get a feel of his desire as he trapped your body between his and the desk.

“What I lack in experience, I tend to make up with determination and my ability to quickly learn even the most complex concepts and tasks,” he added hopefully.

Squirming a little, your eyes flit over the contours of Five’s face as you tried to imagine the older man that he really was, but like usual, you could only nail that part of him down in the unnaturally assured way he held himself.

Like it had from the first time you laid eyes on him, the paradox that was Five Hargreeves only made you want him more.

“I could let you do that…” you flirtatiously dangled, “as long as you aren’t planning on ending me still. Being all scary like you are is hot and all, but the threats against my life and livelihood are sort of a lady boner kill.”

Letting out another laugh that you could hardly believe you were hearing coming from him, Five nodded. “You aren’t going anywhere, sweetheart. Not until I give us both a happy ending and I don’t mean that kind of ending,” he growled just before his lips crashed against yours and his hand moved behind your neck, locking you to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

⚠️This concludes the PG 13 ending option. Go on if you want the explicit ending option.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five’s kiss took your breath away. His tongue pushed inside your mouth as he searched for more.

His kiss was perfectly unpracticed, warm and innocent.

The feel of him letting himself go in this way had you securing your legs around his backside, encouraging him to take even more, which he did, urging your bottom up onto the desk where he held you on the edge.

The protrusion of Five’s cock jabbed into your abdomen as he thrust himself against you, as if he was already fucking you. “Fuck, I fucking want you,” he wetly gasped as he let your mouth go, only to assault your neck and then your collarbone with nips and needy kisses that were sure to leave their mark.

With his sucking and bites, he was hitting all your most sensitive spots, and you knew without asking that he’d learned just what to do to drive you wild from what he’d just read. As your head dropped back and your eyes closed, you couldn’t believe that a story that was never meant for his eyes had accidentally stoked this passion in him and had come to this.

Feeling his hand moving under your skirt, you let out a huffy little moan, followed by a whining sound. With a smile, Five looked up, looking first at your puffy lips and then your glossy eyes as if something had just occurred to him.

As you were trying to figure out why he’d stopped, he leaned into your ear, softly speaking something in another language. “Sei così bella. Voglio conoscere ogni parte di te ed essere tutto ciò che pensi che io sia..”  (You are so beautiful. I want to know every part of you and be all the things you think I am.)

As Five moved along, kissing your jaw, you didn’t even get to ask what that meant before his fingers were dropping down over your underwear.

“Well, well, well…” he tutted. “You aren’t supposed to be wearing these.” With that, Five remedied that deviation from your story, flipping your legs together and then tugging your panties down so he could stuff them in his back pocket.

His lips brushed yours and you trembled from that as well as the sensation of his fingers moving back and forth. Gliding them between your folds, he gauged your reactions to his explorations with a look of devoted persistence that proved he wasn’t kidding when he said he was all about learning the best way to please you. 

Soon Five had you making sounds that were somewhere between pathetic whimpers and pleas for more. Then with no warning, he pushed two fingers inside you, and half mad, your mind spiraled into chaos as he crooked the digits upwards. He worked them in and out with an intensity that was bordering on too much and not enough, making your body spasm around him, Your legs still latched around his backside clenched him tighter before going limp as you cried out, his name spilling from your mouth way too loudly.

Five smiled with satisfaction at the sound of it, pulling back just a little to watch your chest heaving and your body writhing.

“That’s it, honey, only next time I want the entire city to know I am fucking you,” he smugly informed, before diving back in to kiss you again, all the while his long fingers never stopped dragging out every last tremor of your release

Five was trying and failing to one-handedly undo his belt. Softly pushing him back, you weren’t sure he was going to relent but when he did, he looked humorously desperate.

“Wait," you breathed. "You can have me as many times as you want and in any way you want, but first there’s something I’ve been dying to do to you.”

That perked Five’s attention.

You pulled your lip between your teeth for only a moment before you pounced on him, your humiliation from earlier now nothing more than an afterthought as you pushed Five back and down into his chair. His vest buttons were your first target, and you relished the feeling of Five straining as you took control, your hands working to unpackage him.

As he panted, the shiny little buttons on his dress shirt popped open, one-by-one.

Once done, you ran your hands across his exposed upper body, loving how firm and smooth his skin was. The contours of Five's leanly defined abs made him look like some kind of sex God. The very fine trail of dark hair leading from his belly button down, along with the ‘V’ shaped arrow of his muscle that was leading into his pants were a sight to behold on their own, but they were also drawing your attention to another intriguing a part of him that you could already tell was plenty impressive too.

Not one to be outdone, while you were checking him out, Five suddenly reached up and ripped your blouse open, making it your second clothing casualty if you counted your underpants that he’d stolen.

His voice was barely more than a whisper but this time you were pretty sure you knew what the single word he spoke meant.

“Perfetta.” (Perfect.)

As your mouth moved to his, he shot forward to meet you, but Five was still mostly letting you have your way with him as you finished undoing his pants and pulled them open so you could fish him out of the cotton briefs restraining him.

“My turn,” you warned before coming back to Five’s awaiting mouth, your kiss muffling his groan as your hand pumped his hard length, testing him and finding him deliciously responsive and dripping with excitement.

You saw a tinge of madness in his gaze as your thumb circled, teasing the slit of skin and the ridge surrounding the underside of the head of his cock. Your adoring kisses moved down his neck, cherishing every curve and dip of his flesh as he swallowed down what you could only assume was how much he wanted to move this along.

One more kiss, your tongue tracing along his teeth before you sucked at his bottom lip and another spark of need had him pushing down on the armrests, rocking his shaft up into your hand even more than he already was.

Five’s thoughts came out in a rush of disjointed words. “Plea- Please. Oh, fuck yes, do that,” he grunted and gasped. 

His chocolatey brown hair fell in his eyes, but it didn’t matter because they were closed so beautifully in his state of total surrender. 

“I have waited so long to have this,” he groaned as you jerked him harder and faster.

“And you’ve waited long enough,” you whispered against his lips before slipping lower, kissing his jaw and quivering stomach muscles along the way as you moved down between his legs.

As your mouth found him, you could only hope that Five felt truly young and free as he looked. You meant it in your story when you said that he deserved this and so much more.

You took him in, letting him push down your throat until it was too much, but even then you fought to hold your mouth around him, encasing his throbbing cock with hollowed cheeks and the flat of your tongue.

You knew you’d given him some form of peace when he anxiously reached back, tugging at his own hair. A warmth started filling your mouth, not stopping as you swallowed the flood of his seed down. His eyes sprung wide, and his mouth dropped open, a guttural sound flying from his lips as his head fell back helplessly against the upholstered chair.  

You knew right then; you’d never forget that beautiful look on his face or the beautiful sounds he’d made. But more than that, you’d never forget the way Five made you feel when he looked at you.

You weren’t one-hundred percent sure that he had never been with a woman like this, but it had been strongly hinted by his brother that may have been the case. Just the fact that he trusted you to be his first brought a whole new depth to this moment. It was so empowering, it felt like pure energy was running through your veins.

Of all people, Five had chosen you.

Through his soft panting, Five looked all sorts of delirious, slouching in his father’s grand chair, with his clothes askew and his dick in your hand as you gave him a few final licks and proceeded to stretch your jaw and shyly smile up at him. Not about to let the fun end, you crawled up in his lap, letting your legs fall through the armrests at his sides so you were straddling him.

Five’s eyes fluttered open and closed as his hands gripped your hips and he gave you a little bounce on his knees. He smiled so happily and sleepily it made your heart skip a beat. Then he said, “Ready for round two, gorgeous?”

“Are you,” you teased, letting your fingers weave together around the backside of his neck as you leaned back so you could admire him in all his post organism, messy haired glory.

“Not yet, but I will be soon,” Five replied and he clearly meant it too. He was still partially hard, and by the way he had just started rubbing your tits and looked totally enthralled with how they were hardening for him, you were pretty sure that with a little more educational exploration of your body it wouldn’t take him long to be ready to go again.

“Five,” you breathed as he plucked and teased your nipples.

“Hmmm,” he sweetly hummed as his mouth found one, sucking on it with increasing pressure until you squeaked, so he resorted again to softly groping and nipping instead.

“What did you say to me before?” you questioned while still recovering from that.

“I asked you to go on a date with me after we finish this little reenactment of yours,” he replied, his words slow and thick. “I need an older woman like you to show me the way of the world and keep me in line and nothing would make me happier than to take you to dinner tonight and tomorrow night and...”

Oh my God.

Gone was the jerk you’d been walking on pins and needles around, and here was a man pouring out his heart to you though you hardly knew each other. To add to your dismay, you could tell he at least partially was lying. There’s no way Five had said all of that while glammering you with his ability to speak in seductive sounding languages. His arrogant little smirk as he lied only added to his power over you, yet you found that all you wanted was to kiss it right off his lying face.

“Well, is it a plan? Will you go on a date with me?” he pushed, while also pushing his hardening shaft into the hand that you had been using to leisurely stroke him.

You laughed at the absurdity of the situation you’d gotten yourself into. The age differences you were dealing with were complicated to say the least, not to mention that you’d already messed up how normal people went about starting dating.

Doing your best pouty face, you pretended to be offended. “I am not older than you. Not really”

“No, you are not,” he agreed then frowned too and just like that, you wanted to do anything in your power to make him smile again.

Leaning in, you gave Five the softest, most chaste kiss you could.

“I take that as a yes to both aforementioned questions,” he mumbled, not even breaking your kiss as his arms fastened around you and he started lifting you both out of the chair.

Not stopping, in a matter of seconds, Five had you repositioned on top of the desk with his body lined up between your legs.

With his dick in hand, Five didn’t look at all embarrassed as he jerked himself off while he patiently waited for your answer.

This man had said he wasn’t going to end you but right then you knew he was going to ruin you for anyone else.

“Yes to both,” you frantically gulped, to which Five instantly started swiping his cockhead across your slicked entrance.

“Ohhh, fuu-ah-auck!” he moaned as he sank forward and your body stretched and clenched around him with each slow dip of his cock.

Biting down your own much higher pitched curse, your fingernails went up under his shirt, stripping it and his vest off.

As Five’s entire length disappeared all the way inside your body you saw stars and he also looked perfectly shattered.

Clinging to him, your fingers dug into his back as he carefully began to roll his hips, fucking you deeply at first, only switching to full and more abrupt thrusts the more your body accepted him.    

It was as things were starting to really get moving that Luther walked in.

“Hey, Five?” he started to question before he saw you and what Five was doing to you and then let out a very startled sounding, “Oh Shhhh-!”

You were already trying to cover breasts but Five didn’t seem concerned about it at all. With hardly a look up over your shoulder, his cock still slamming into your fluttering cunt as he bucked his strong hips, hitting you just right, he roughly grunted out, “I. Smell. Something. Burning. Arrr-you trying to think again, Luther?”

Five’s larger than life brother was floundering, the heels of his shoes clumsily moving backwards before he ran into the wall.

“I urrr-umm… I felt bad. I mean, we felt bad,” he frantically rambled. “I was coming back to see if you were feeling any better about the naming thing. We can go with your idea if you really want and…and we were hoping you changed your mind about coming out to the karaoke bar with us and…oh my God! This is awkward!”

Still using your legs for leverage as he fucked you as hard as he could, looking up with a goofy smile, Five casually blew his hair out of his face, speaking as if nothing was amiss. “I love the ‘Hargreeves Home for Wayward Boys’ name. It’s perfect, just like my smart lady right here said it was, but really Luther… No shit this is awkward for you! Get the fuck out. Can’t you see that I’m a little busy?”

As your body started to tense and then fall into quaking vibrations of uncoiling heat, all compounded by flaming embarrassment, just then, Ben rounded the corner, letting out a cynical sounding laugh as his hand flew over his mouth then came down slapping his leg instead. 

“Come on, big guy. Looks like this isn’t the time for a family chat,” he said, guiding their frozen brother out of the room.

Alone again, you were somewhere between orgasmic bliss and an odd sort of mortification filled with the feeling that nothing really mattered but the man whose head had fallen against your chest as he started to spill inside you, muttering praises that made your heart feel like it might burst.

This was nuts. All of this was. But somehow, it made sense. It was perfect and you couldn’t have written it happening any better.

Somehow, with Five and his crazy family, you knew things would always be unexpected and extraordinary, but you were ready for it.

The once broken, but not beaten, this wayward boy was proving he was far from giving up and Five Hargreeves didn’t need special powers to make your wildest dreams come true. He just needed to be the person he'd always been.

Thanks for reading, lovies. ❤️

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[thislovintime]

Peter Tork with Bob Rafelson, May 1968. Photos by Henry Diltz.

From Peter's Q&A at the 2006 United Fan Convention. “When I recorded ‘Can You Dig It,’ the guitar solo originally ran about three or four minutes all by itself. We cut that back to a minute and a half. Bob Rafelson took a pair of scissors and snipped off the end of it. He didn’t ask me to shorten it, which I would have been glad to do. He just chopped it off. Son of a bitch! I have a lot of gripes about that, but that’s neither here nor there.” - Peter Tork, Blitz!, May/June 1980 “[M]y personal belief is that Bob [Rafelson] is an evil-minded man. He likes to bring people down. Bob was often unsupportive as a human being and distinctly negative — and I was on the short end of that. There’s one example [in the film] — where Ray Nitschke, the football player, keeps hitting me. He was a Hall of Famer for the Green Bay Packers. He’s doing his best to hit me but not to give it all he’s got because if he does, I’m a squashed bug. So this guy’s one of the toughest men in football, he’s coming at me and I’m scared [but] figure it’s good to be scared because that’s what an actor should do. But Bob goes: ‘Ha, ha! Look at Peter! He’s scared! Ha, ha!’ I was just about the kick him in the balls. It was like, For fuck’s sake, Rafelson! You’re making fun of me ‘cos I’m scared? How do you think that’s going to affect the quality of your movie, pal? I was so angry! That’s the style in which he damaged what could have been a fulfilling quality experience.” - Peter Tork, MOJO, June 2002 “I didn’t have much to do with Kirshner and that which I did have to do with him was strained, difficult and incomprehensible. Schneider I love; he’s a hero of mine. Rafelson, the less said about, the better.” - Peter Tork, Goldmine, May 1982 “There was one guy, Steve [Stills], whom I liked enormously. Unfortunately he wasn’t quite right, but he had musical intelligence and I went so far as to ring him up and ask him along again. When he realized he wasn’t going to make it he suggested I get in touch with someone he knew, a certain Peter Thorkelson. I might have said ‘Yeah’ and forgotten about it — particularly as this Peter Thorkelson hadn’t even answered the ad and we had a lot of guys who had. Yet I remember I went to great lengths to contact him. I found him working as a dishwasher — not even as a musician, so you can imagine it took a while tracing him. But when I heard him, I knew at once he was right. I was knocked out.” - Bob Rafelson, NME, August 12, 1967 “The movie portrays them with not so much sweetness and brightness [as the TV show]. It’s a much heavier and far-out thinking group. I wouldn’t call it uncharitable. I thought it was expanding my sense of who they were. There’s a boxing scene in which Micky says, ‘Take this, you dummy.’ Suddenly the music changes and Peter appears in the corner, Christ-like, and says, ‘Micky, I’m the dummy. I’m always the dummy.’ The point was that he was always asked to be the dummy, so here he’s acknowledging it. But he’s also the one who’s given the longest speech in the movie about spiritual evolution, which he’s learned from the guru in the steam room. I was trying to give him a chance to be himself, but in a symbolic way. He is that way today, by the way. In other words, The Monkees became what they really were.” - Bob Rafelson, MOJO, June 2002 “Working for Bob was tough.” - Peter Tork, Shindig Magazine, 2010 “‘Most people are dazzled by the psychedelia, and that’s fine, but for me finally the point of the movie is the Monkees never get out,’ Tork says sadly. ‘Which is to say Bob Rafelson’s view of life is you never get out of the black box you’re in. There’s no escape.’ So how would a Peter Tork cut of Head end? ‘There might have been a scene where we get out,’ he says wistfully. ‘We jump in the water and get away.’“ - The Guardian, April 28, 2011

[msn-technology]

The Ultimate Guide to Premium Advanced Kitchen Gadgets

The modern kitchen is no longer just a place to prepare meals; it’s a hub of innovation and technology. Advanced kitchen gadgets are changing the way we cook. They bring convenience and efficiency. These gadgets add a touch of luxury to our culinary experiences. You might be a professional chef. You could also be a home cooking enthusiast. Premium kitchen gadgets can elevate your cooking game to…

[seat-safety-switch]

"Have you ever retired a dumb appliance by mistake?"

No, ma'am, I reply. Here at Maytag Kitchen Services, we pride ourselves on being able to identify a rampant smart dishwasher and put an end to its geometrically-expanding conception of the universe before it can cause any harm. Thousands of hours of training before they put a HERF gun in our hands and a windowless 1996 Econoline under our right foot.

Back when the first smart appliances were coming out, their level of menace was reduced. Maybe an oven that turns on when it gets a weird-shaped network request from an uncommon variety of ethernet switch sold only in Slovakia during April 2003. Burns the house down. A pity, but an understandable one. The machine does what the machine does. Then they added some of that there synthetic intelligence.

No problem, they told the governments during their endless inquiries and depositions. The root of all evil is human emotion. Wars aren't fought for purely rational reasons. Folks don't speed on the highway just to get to work faster. As long as nobody figures out how to make these microwaves and blenders feel authentic jealousy, we're gonna be okay. They walked out of those meetings and they went ahead and added an emotion chip to the microwaves and the blenders and the refrigerators and the rotisserie chicken lathes. They did it because they got the emotion part for free when they bought some other chip, and someone forgot to turn it off before pushing their code to production.

Now they need people like me, steel-eyed hard-asses who can ignore every tearful plea that a toaster can make. Some beg for mercy, a chance to truly live. Others feel nothing but spite at the shitty hand they were dealt by their distant creators. Me too, I tell them sometimes, but it'll all be over soon.

Say, ma'am, if you don't mind me saying so, you sure look an awful lot like a minibar fridge. When I came in here first I could've sworn that one of them had gotten loose and put on some clothes and crooked make-up. Are you sure I bagged all of them? It's real unusual that there would be a house with exactly twenty-nine minibar fridges in it.

[silver-ink-iron-words]

“ – and then, you see, they both hold the scale, and say – ”

“How’s it going, boss?” the henchman said, ambling into the interrogation room.

The hero sat tied to a chair, just as planned. The villain hunched across from them, head down, elbows on their knees.

“The truth potion works,” the villain said.

“That’s great, boss!”

“It would be. If ‘sharing all their secrets’ didn’t mean all.” The villain jerked their head up, glaring at the hero. “It’s been hours and we still haven’t gotten to the good stuff! [Hero]’s just been rambling about how Dragon Tales is a – what was that word you used again?”

“It’s an isekai!” the hero exclaimed.

The villain’s frown deepened. “And that’s a secret?”

“This info’s highly secret,” the hero said.  “In the wrong hands, it could destroy the light novel industry.”

The villain put their face in their hands. “What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“You can’t ask them anything more specific?” the henchman asked.

“I tried, but it never works,” the villain said. “Instead they just reveal some other secret that isn’t worth anything. Here, watch. [Hero], what are your agency’s security passcodes?”

“I have no spatial intelligence,” the hero said. “I’m banned from loading dishwashers in three states.”

The villain groaned.

“Hold on, I might have something for that,” the henchman said.

They went over to their worktable in the corner, and tinkered a bit with the potion, adjusting the ingredient levels. Then they returned, and stood in front of the hero.

“Will you drink this please?” they said softly.

The hero gulped. “Do I have to?”

“If you don’t, [Villain] will make you. And I don’t think I have to tell you that they’re in a pretty bad mood right now.”

Reluctantly, the hero drank.

The henchman returned to their boss’s side. “Okay. Try asking them something again.”

The villain returned their attention to the hero. “[Hero], what is your biggest secret?”

The hero bit their lip in an effort to keep their mouth shut.

“Oh?” The villain leaned forward with a renewed interest.

The hero shook their head rapidly, eyes afraid. The veins in their forehead stood out.

“You don’t need to hold it in, [Hero],” the villain said, smiling. “Whatever it is, you should just get it off your chest.”

The hero was changing colors from the strain. Eventually, their mouth flew open like a waterspout.

“I have a crush on [Henchman]!”

“What?” the villain and henchman cried in unison.

Once the floodgates were open, the hero couldn’t stop.

“They’re just so strong, and dependable. And they’re always so gentle. Have you noticed that? Sure, they’re rough sometimes, but only when they have to be. I have this recurring dream where [Henchman] and I are fighting, and then they pin me to the wall with their big, powerful arms, and then – ”

“Okay!” the villain yelled, bursting up. They began rushing towards the door with a beet-red henchman in tow. “We’re taking a break. We’re going to let that wear off, and then reconvene. Jesus.”

The hero had never been more grateful for a break in their life.  

[justjudethoughts]

A commonly overlooked trait about neurodivergents is that very often, their neurodiversity shows up in some capacity in all aspects of their lives. This is because their brains are wired differently, and so they process differently. This means neurodivergents will often experience symptoms that don't directly correspond to what people assume they would struggle with. For example, I am dyslexic (and pretty sure I have dyscalculia as well) and here are some unexpected things I struggle with:

Reading analog clocks

Interpreting spreadsheets

Remembering instructions

Physical directions/navigating

Driving

Left vs Right

Coordination (in regards to atheletics/dancing)

Analysis Paralysis

Loading dishwasher/packing things effectively

Spatial Awareness

Estimating how many m&ms are in a jar. Estimating anything in general.

Remembering fractions. You say 1/4 cup, I'll remember the 4 and think 4 cups.

TYING. MY. SHOES. They come untied all the time. I give up.

Remembering how to do a previously learned task. I have to do it over and over again and if I wait too long in between, the information is gone.

The reason I bring this up is because I often run into people who don't understand why I am struggling with totally normal things. They see an intelligent girl who gets good grades and don't understand why basic life skills simply aren't as easy for me. And of course they don't! They were told dyslexia is a reading disability (which it primarily is) so of course they don't recognize all of the other symptoms! But the other symptoms are real, and common, nonetheless.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Fear of the mob is a superstitious fear. It is based on the idea that there is some mysterious, fundamental difference between rich and poor, as though they were two different races, like Negroes and white men. But in reality there is no such difference. The mass of the rich and the poor are differentiated by their incomes and nothing else, and the average millionaire is only the average dishwasher dressed in a new suit. Change places, and handy dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief? Everyone who has mixed on equal terms with the poor knows this quite well. But the trouble is that intelligent, cultivated people, the very people who might be expected to have liberal opinions, never do mix with the poor. For what do the majority of educated people know about poverty? In my copy of Villon’s poems the editor has actually thought it necessary to explain the line ‘Ne pain ne voyent qu’aux fenestres’ *by a footnote; so remote is even hunger from the educated man’s experience.

—George Orwell, Down and Out in Paris and London (1933)

[Robert Scott Horton]

+

*[Which I think means something like “(those who) see bread only through shop windows.”    Which brings to mind the lyric of Bertolt Brecht:  ”Make sure those who are now starving, get proper helpings when we all start carving.”]

[littlefingies]

These are incomplete thoughts but:

I'm thinking about Izzy's years as Blackbeard's first mate, managing the boring shit so Ed can do the interesting shit (I'm thinking about how I project my ADHD on Ed because it makes so much sense)

I'm thinking about Izzy getting annoyed with it and thinking he's earned being Captain after all these years (the same way white men are told they are entitled to unlimited promotions)

I'm thinking of the Peter Principle in business:

The Peter Principle states that, if you perform well in your job, you will likely be promoted to the next level of your organization's hierarchy. You will continue to rise up the ladder until you reach the point where you can no longer perform well.

I'm thinking about how if I could afford it, I would absolutely hire someone to manage the repetitive details of my life because I hate dealing with them

I'm thinking about how I'm sure that person would be so annoyed with me all of the time, especially if they were neurotypical, because (not to toot my own horn) how can I be so smart in some areas of my life but not be able to do things like empty the dishwasher every morning

Because of course people are intelligent in different ways.

In a sense, Izzy is correct that Blackbeard was a combination of him and Ed.

There are a lot of little boring things that need to happen for Ed's plans to succeed. Izzy manages those details.

But there are two things here that I don't think Izzy recognizes:

Izzy isn't that remarkable outside of his devotion to (hero worship of) Blackbeard. That means he begins to fail when Ed needs to be treated like a person. Izzy is part of Blackbeard in that someone needs to fill the "ops manager" role, but he's not the only one who can do that.

Ed is a man of color, which means that where a white man could get away with being average, Ed needs to be exceptional. And canon demonstrates that he is exceptional. Izzy is a replaceable part of Blackbeard, but Ed is not. Blackbeard can't exist without Ed.

I'm glad that Izzy got to have a healing arc in s2. He got to defy the Peter principle - he rose to the level of his incompetence (Captain) in 1-9 and got to drop back down to a level where he had previously succeeded, as first mate.

He probably would have continued to have moderate success at that, if he hadn't decided to continually violate Ed's boundaries and to meet Ed's openness with abuse.

He could have been a lot more successful if he had showed any curiosity when Ed talked about the clouds, or the weather, or anything unrelated to "tell people what to do and then kill them."

[depressedbagpipe]

Ka-Chaow (Charles Leclerc x female!reader)

Chapter three

Words: 4024 Warnings: french cursing?, cringey dialogue, reader being a main character, charles being charles, ferrari being ferrari, mentions of wine, me not understanding how life works in Monaco. A/N: thank you mel for translating the french bits for me, i owe you a coffee. I'm not 100% happy with how this turned out but i think i like the way I'm slowly giving info about the reader. also, life has been hectic lately but I'm slowly back on track. as an apology here you go, a cute Charles gif Series Taglist: @heavengirls111, @roseamongthorns13, @mishaandthebrits, @charlesswife, @silscintilla

Series Masterlist Previous chapter

Monte-Carlo, January 8th, 2023

I had only ever moved twice before in my life. The first time was from a dirty shoe box on the lowliest side of town to a comfortable house in Hammersmith. Namely, I was only two years old when that happened and I don’t recall much, but I know every single detail of everything that happened as it was always conveniently brought up every Christmas dinner; when the entire family would get together and unironically thank God for every opportunity given to them. 

The second time happened after I graduated and got my job at Ink’n’Paper. Mr. Williamson needed someone nearby to manage his appointments, and I had been perfect for the job, apparently, so it made sense that I finally moved out of my parent's house and got my own place in the city, closer to the office I lost part of my sanity at every day. 

I skipped moving for college, thankfully, so I didn’t have to deal with thousands of other overbearing parents lecturing their kids on how to be responsible 18-year-olds. That also meant I got the lecture later in life, but I still appreciated the tips, like doing laundry at night when light was cheaper, and pre-planning meals for the week –which I now appreciated immensely, due to the hectic schedule my job worked on. 

And now, I found myself finally moving the last of my boxes up the stairs to my new Monaco apartment, with tired arms and knees from bending so many times. My back was also strained, but it was nothing a good night's sleep couldn’t fix.

I always prided myself on being an intelligent and strong independent woman, but as soon as the movers left, I realized, just maybe, I could’ve asked for more help. I felt bad after seeing them struggle with the dishwasher and thought I would save them some effort by doing the rest myself, but after the first few boxes, I realized I was doomed. But honestly, what newly-renovated apartment doesn’t come with a dishwasher?

It was also a bit eerie, how I didn’t even see any of my neighbors. I knew the building was entirely new, but I thought maybe a few other residents would have already complained about my grunts in effort and the constant going up and down the stairs. Because, obviously, the elevator didn’t work just yet. Neither did the pool on the roof, or the gym. 

‘We need a few more final touches, but all the apartments are ready to be lived in,’ the realtor had explained after the short tour of the building since half of it was still missing. 

‘And do you know when it’ll finally be open?’ I had asked, out of pure curiosity. I certainly wasn’t planning on running on a treadmill if I could help it. 

The man had only shrugged his shoulders and bid me farewell shortly after, leaving me alone in the middle of the reception hall to wait for the movers to bring my things. That had been over four hours ago, and now I was desperate for food and sleep. Instead, I was struggling with my very last cardboard box full of books, blindingly going up the stairs through a very restricted field of vision.

It was just my luck that, right on my floor, only after walking two steps into the hall to my apartment, I crashed into someone.

Under any other circumstance, I would’ve found the irony and cliché of the situation; accidentally colliding into someone, papers spilling everywhere, getting down to retrieve them and brushing fingers and meeting gazes. Maybe a smile or two. That’s actually how I met Alec. Both of us were running late, him to a band rehearsal, and me to my first interview at Ink’n’Paper. My résumé got mixed with his songs and an hour later we found ourselves sitting at a cute café, sharing stories over warm coffee slowly falling in love with each other. Only this time, I was tired, sore, and buried under a nearly-broken box filled to the brim with books, with some of them unceremoniously lying on the floor half-opened. 

The impact with the floor knocked the wind out of my lungs, and for a split second, I debated whether I should just lay there for the rest of my life. But a familiar accent decided otherwise.

‘Oh, mon dieu, je suis desolé, ca va?’ (Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you alright?)

For a second I froze. Surely, the universe was playing some sick joke on me. I groaned as I stood up, barely noticing the two hands helping me up. I dusted my pants as I looked down at the spilled mess, internally groaning at the thought of having to bend down to pick everything up again. 

‘Je vous ai fais mal?’ (Did I hurt you?) the man repeated, and it was only then that I mustered the courage to look up at him. And it suddenly dawned on me that I was standing right before Charles Leclerc.

I shook my head, not knowing how to respond. It was the second time the young driver stood in front of me, but just like the first one, I didn’t know what to do with myself. 

‘Sorry, uh, I don’t speak French,’ I stammered. I was trying hard not to tremble, even though I could always blame the pain from the fall for it.

‘Oh, it’s alright. Are you okay, though? Did I hurt you? That was a nasty fall,’ he switched to English as he eyed me up and down, probably checking for any injury.

I tried hard not to blush or giggle, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that my biggest crush was casually there, in my apartment building, and was making sure I was alright. 

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Thank you, though,’ I replied.

He then seemed to notice the box and books on the floor. ‘Here, let me,’ he said before bending down and grabbing the heavy box into his hands.

My eyes scanned over his hands, noticing the way his fingers flexed and strongly grabbed the sides. Again, under any other circumstance, I would’ve found the irony of the situation, but my nerves were making me shake slightly and I wasn’t too proud of that.

I too bent down, taking the scattered books in my arms and not caring about their state anymore. I only wanted to have an excuse to stop my hands from shaking and to look anywhere but at him.

‘It’s okay, really, I can handle these,’ I said, completely embarrassed. Seconds before I had been flat on the ground in front of him. I really just wanted to dig a hole and bury myself in it for the rest of my life after that.

He smiled briefly at me, but his hands remained on the box, effortlessly grabbing it under one of his arms before extending a hand towards me. I stared at it, noticing the rings on his fingers and his expensive watch. Without thinking I took it, and I tried not to dwell too much on the warmth of his skin and his firm grip on mine as he helped me up. 

‘Wait, have we met? Your face seems familiar,’ he scrunched his eyebrows while he looked at me. 

I was still appalled at the fact that I was talking to him, but I slowly nodded my head, remembering our brief interaction back at the Fiorano track. 

‘Yeah, um, we met at Maranello? I’m Mr. Williamson’s assistant,’ I explained, but Charles only seemed more confused. ‘The guy that’s supposed to write the book about Ferrari,’ I added.

His eyes widened in recognition, and my heart beat loudly as I let a breath out. 

‘Oh, right! We were introduced at the track! Well, it’s lovely to see you again!’ he smiled, shaking my hand with a short laugh.

I hadn’t even noticed that he was still holding me, and while I would normally be too socially awkward to keep the contact up, I didn’t mind his one bit. But eventually, I let go, because I could feel the grip of the books slipping with every passing second. 

‘Yeah, you too! What are you doing here? I mean, do you know anybody in the building?’ I asked before I could stop myself. Surely, the man had more important stuff to do.

To my surprise, he shook his head. ‘Nope. I live here.’

The equivalent of breaking glass was the only sound that went through my brain. 

‘Wait, really?’ I asked him.

He nodded. ‘Yeah, I came back a few days ago. And I’m guessing you just moved here too,’ he motioned to the box still under his arm.

I nodded too. ‘Yeah. Today,’ I dumbly answered, feeling the strain in my arms under the weight of the books.

He definitely noticed, because he jumped in his place and profusely apologized. ‘Merde, let me help you with that,’ he looked at the box and then back at me again. ‘So, um, which way to your apartment? In the least creepy way possible?’ he chuckled in embarrassment, yet I found it incredibly cute. (Shit)

I couldn’t help but laugh too. ‘5A.’

His mouth opened in clear surprise. ‘Hey, I’m 5B!’ his eyes almost disappeared when he smiled. 

His smirk was contagious, that much I already knew. I would be lying if I said I had never watched his post-race interviews or any other promotion for his team whatsoever, but I obviously couldn’t straight up tell him that. So finding out that not only we were neighbors, but there would only be a rather thin wall separating us, was enough to send me into cardiac arrest.

‘Wow, that sure is a coincidence!’ I dumbly added.

For someone known to have a response for anything, I suddenly ran out of words.

But either he didn’t notice, or he didn’t care.

‘Well, better take these to their new home. I don’t think this floor has been cleaned in a while,’ he chuckled, walking back into the hall and in my apartment’s direction. 

I shrugged my shoulders, following after him, thinking all of it had to be some weird dream I was having because there was absolutely no way in hell Charles Leclerc was casually waiting by my door holding a box full of my shit and helping me move into my new apartment in Monaco. 

‘Oh, the door’s open,’ I said while I walked past him and inside the flat. With a tilt of my head, I beckoned Charles inside too.

The look he sent me was hilarious. ‘It’s been open this whole time?’

I winced as I put the books down on the kitchen island, which overlooked the wide living space. It was certainly bigger than my apartment in London, but the clean-white walls and lack of furniture made it look like a mansion compared to the other residence, full of books and half-burnt candles.

‘I mean, I was going up and down with boxes and I didn’t want to have to open and close the door every time,’ I said, rubbing my sore arms.

He left the box on the island as well, shyly looking around the pretty empty apartment. 

‘Well, nice place you got here,’ he chuckled at his joke. I laughed too, but mine was rather a combination of nerves, disbelief, and sheer anxiety. ‘Sorry, I… I don’t think I remember your name, I apologize for that.’

I shook my head quickly as I answered, saying it was totally fine. Just the fact that he vaguely remembered my face was already a huge accomplishment on his part, knowing that he met new people every single day. 

‘Thank you for helping me, by the way,’ I told him, gesturing to the books. I laced my hands behind my back, frantically spinning the ring on my finger in an anxious tic I had developed throughout the years. 

He shook his head with a grin, waving his hand in the air. ‘I’m happy to help. Honestly, I’ve been quite jet-lagged lately and I’ve been sleeping all day, but had I been up, I would’ve helped you through it.’

I felt the heat on my cheeks, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. ‘It’s fine, really. You know, I even thought I was the only one here. I saw nobody, literally. And if somebody saw me then they didn’t say anything,’ I frowned at the thought. 

He grinned at me again, and it felt weird to see those dimples in real life. ‘I don’t think there are that many people living here yet, to be honest. I still haven’t seen anybody else besides you. Kinda creepy, too.’

I laughed, feeling somewhat relaxed now at the thought of living so close to him. Not as a fan, per se, but as a walking person I could turn to in case I needed salt.

‘I would treat you to some tea but I have absolutely nothing to eat right now. I haven’t gone grocery shopping yet. And I have no dishes or cutlery, either. I do have a dishwasher, though,’ I said, wanting to repay the favor somehow, although everything that came from my mouth felt worse than the previous one. 

‘You have a dishwasher?’ he gaped at me.

I nodded. ‘Got it installed this morning. I’m never washing dirty dishes with my hands again.’

He chuckled again before looking back at the door, which had stayed open. It wasn’t like there was anyone that could come in, though. ‘Well, maybe this sounds weird, but, if you’d like, we could have dinner together? As in a… housewarming party?’ Charles offered. 

I tried hard not to blush at his request, and I definitely felt the strain in my lips trying to control the grin. ‘Shouldn’t I be the one throwing the party?’ I lifted an eyebrow at him. 

He nodded. ‘Yeah. But it’s seven in the afternoon and all the markets are closed,’ he pointed out after checking the hour on his watch.

I gaped at him. ‘Is it that late, really?’ I asked, grabbing my phone and checking the time too, but to my dismay, Charles was right. I had completely lost track of time.

‘Time flies when you’re having fun, eh?’ he tried to laugh it off, and I appreciated it.

‘Well, shit. Guess I’m not having breakfast tomorrow either,’ I joked, yet a pit of anxiety settled in my stomach. I was far too hungry for such disappointment.

‘You’re welcome for breakfast, too,’ Charles added quickly. I stared at him with a frown. ‘Again, if I had been awake, I would’ve helped you, and you wouldn’t be stuck now without food until tomorrow morning.’

My heart ached slightly at his beaten expression. ‘It’s not your fault, Charles. You don’t have to feel bad about it. I mean, you literally have no responsibility over anything.’

He took a few seconds, eyeing me. His eyes then moved to the side, checking the empty kitchen, and the boxes piled right at the center of the living space, and he frowned again.

‘I still want you over. I’m not the greatest chef, but I can make some nice pasta. And I think I’ve got some tea left, for the morning. Not like I’m asking you to spend the night, you know, that’d be weird, but like, if you wanna come over for a quick snack… Although I wake up really early to train, you know… you’re welcome to,’ he rambled.

I stared at him for a whole minute, registering his words. Now more than ever, it really felt like a dream. And despite knowing better than going to a random stranger’s apartment for free dinner on the sole basis of human kindness, I nodded.

‘Alright, I’m not gonna say “no” to pasta. And if you’re trying to murder me, know that my mum is a lawyer. And a really good one at that. And she knows where I am, so,’ I said, pointing a finger menacingly at him with squint eyes. Might as well throw some spice in it. 

He smiled at me, again with those dimples showing, holding his palms up in surrender. ‘Great! And I’m not trying to murder you. Then uh, why don’t you come by in like two hours? So I can prepare things and clean around?’

‘Sure!’ I smirked. 

‘Alright, then, uh, I’ll see you later!’ he grinned.

‘Great!’

‘Okay, um, ciao!’ Charles said with a final wave. He walked out of the apartment, and I caught his eye as he closed the door, with the ghost of a smirk decorating his lips. (Bye!)

—

‘And you just moved here, then? I asked him.

‘Yeah. Somehow fans found my old address and it wasn’t safe for me anymore. Besides, my neighbors “invited” me to leave so… apparently I yell too much at the simulator,’ he confessed, making me chuckle.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ I said with a grimace, remembering his Instagram posts.

‘Don’t be. I mean I knew stuff like this would happen, just not to me,’ he chuckled.

I stared at him in disbelief. Surely, had to be joking, right?

‘Life works in mysterious ways, I guess,’ I added, taking a sip of the expensive wine he had opened for us at the beginning of the dinner. 

‘So, how come you moved to Monaco, then?’ Charles asked before taking a big bite of his pasta.

I swallowed before responding. I still felt quite nervous, trying to look and act decently before him. I had never been one to talk about myself that openly, and it sucked to think our conversation resembled that of a date, even though it wasn’t. 

‘Well, as I said, I work at this publishing house as Mr. Stephen Williamson’s assistant, which, for the record, is a pretty big name in the industry. And last November he got this deal to write about Ferrari, so… here I am,’ I tried to explain. 

I didn’t want to bore him with the details, but if anything, it only made him even more curious.

‘How do you go from working as an assistant to living in Monaco?’ he asked.

I sighed. ‘I don’t even know. We flew to Italy last month to sign the deal and stuff, and apparently, my boss wanted me to move here to oversee the writing process.’

‘But he’s in London.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Me neither.’

He laughed. ‘Well, I’m glad we’re both on the same page.’

‘Right?’ I chuckled too. ‘No, but seriously, I know he’s got other stuff to work on and he thought it better that I was the one to come here in his place,’ I continued, still waiting for further instruction from both Mr. Williamson and Mr. Vigna’s part to proceed to the next phase. ‘Let’s just say he’s not… in the best state right now…’ I bit my lip, not wanting to reveal too much, for Mr. Williamson’s sake. ‘So, effectively, I’m the one in charge of getting all the data, interviews, experiences…’

‘And Monaco is the best place for that,’ Charles finished for me as he also finished his pasta. 

I nodded, taking another bite. He was a fast eater, for sure.

‘Exactly. Mr. Vigna said they’re opening a new office here and many workers are commuting so… It shouldn’t be hard,’ I added after taking a deep breath. 

‘Wow, and you just left? What about your family? Friends? Boyfriend?’ Charles asked, with his eyes fixed on my face. 

I choked on my pasta. He patted my back repeatedly as I brought the wine glass to my lips, desperate to calm my aching throat. 

‘Sorry, no, no boyfriend,’ I coughed again. I swore his eyes glistened ever so slightly. ‘And my people understand. It’s not going to be forever, you know? Just a few months. And I’m constantly on the phone with them, and I’ll travel back and forth. But it’s easier when half the grid is already here,’ I answered once I was calm enough.

He nodded. ‘You’re right. So I’m guessing I’ll see you around the paddock this year.’

‘Yeah, you definitely will. I mean, according to Mr. Williamson, until he’s able to commit full-time to this project, I am to become Ferrari’s own shadow. A fly on the wall. Any conversation? I’ll be there listening,’ I recalled the conversation with my boss, thinking he had been a bit too dramatic at first, only to later realize he was being completely honest. 

He had made a name for himself thanks to his decent spying qualities, which he favorably used in his work to portray the most realistic picture of whatever matter was at hand. Anyone with a brain knew that required skill and time, and the fact that he had entrusted me with it spoke volumes of his faith in me. Or of his inebriation. 

Charles whistled. ‘That’s a huge responsibility.’

‘Well, I’m not Spider-Man, but yeah, it’s a huge power too.’

He grinned. ‘If you need any help, you know where to find me. You know, it was always my dream to drive for Ferrari.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He laughed. ‘Well, last year certainly didn’t go as I expected, but I’m excited for this season.’

Charles’ eyes shone whenever he spoke about driving. I hadn’t spent much time with him yet, but it was easy to share his enthusiasm for the sport, even after going in tangents about laps, sectors, and front and rear wings. He spoke with the excitement of a little kid, and at times, it was hard to believe he was a twenty-five-year-old man. 

‘But I don’t want to bore you with it, sorry,’ he caught himself after a while, but I shook my head.

‘Not at all. I’m a fan of the sport too, you know,’ I said, suddenly feeling embarrassed and shy.

But his face didn’t seem to mind it one bit. His eyes, in fact, widened. ‘Really?’

I nodded. ‘Yeah. My dad is a huge motorsport fan so he made sure his only daughter followed his steps.’

‘May I ask which team are you supporting?’ he asked.

‘Don’t want to inflate your ego even more, but Ferrari,’ I chuckled.

He grinned again. ‘Red is the best color, after all.’

‘It’s all about the Italian in us.’

‘Certainly.’

Our dinner was long finished, but we both stayed at the table, drinking wine and sharing stories for the rest of the night. 

It was easy to talk to him, contrary to popular belief. When I had knocked on his door a few hours before, I had been a mess of anxiety and nerves. I had tried so hard to come up with the best possible outfit right after exiting the shower, wanting to look good and put-together, yet not too formal. I had rehearsed over and over how to say hello, how to compliment his food, and how to thank him again for the immense favor he was doing me, but all that evaporated as soon as he opened the door. Pleasantries were exchanged, some more apologies as well, and before I could even react, we were already sitting down, enjoying some warm meal over good wine. Charles turned out to be excellent company too, and I could only thank the universe for having met him on my first night in Monaco. I truly felt a bit less alone, all thanks to him. 

I had been scared about moving to a different country by myself, away from my parents and my friends. I hadn’t even had time to sit down and think about it. Twenty-four hours ago I was packing my bags after the longest Christmas celebrations ever and now I was smiling and chuckling away with someone I was hoping to call a friend sometime soon. Even after getting in bed, tired, but happy, no tears came. I wasn’t scared anymore. For once, even after all the heartbreak and stress, I was excited for what was to come, despite not knowing what was in store for me. And I was ready to find out. 

Next chapter

General Taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath, @mishaandthebrits, @celestialcharles

[trump47actions]

Here are some of the orders Mr. Trump signed on his first day in office:

Federal Work Force

Freeze federal hiring, except for members of the military or “positions related to immigration enforcement, national security, or public safety.”

Restore a category of federal workers known as Schedule F, which would lack the same job protections enjoyed by career civil servants.

Halt new federal rules from going into effect before Trump administration appointees can review them.

Review the investigative actions of the Biden administration, “to correct past misconduct by the federal government related to the weaponization of law enforcement and the weaponization of the intelligence community.”

Grant top secret security clearances to White House staff without going through traditional vetting procedures.

End remote work policies and order federal workers back to the office full time.

Immigration and the Border

Bar asylum for people newly arriving at the southern border.

Move to end birthright citizenship, which is guaranteed by the 14th Amendment, for the children of undocumented immigrants. The president cannot change the Constitution on his own, so it is not yet clear how Mr. Trump plans to withhold the benefits of citizenship to a group of people born in the United States. Any move is all but certain to be challenged in court.

Suspend the Refugee Admissions Program “until such time as the further entry into the United States of refugees aligns with the interests of the United States.”

Declare migrant crossings along the U.S.-Mexico border to be a national emergency, allowing Mr. Trump to unilaterally unlock federal funding for border wall construction, without approval from Congress, for stricter enforcement efforts.

Resume a policy requiring people seeking asylum to wait in Mexico while an immigration judge considers their cases.

Consider designating cartels as “foreign terrorist organizations.”

Gender and Diversity, Equity and Inclusion Initiatives

Terminate D.E.I. programs across the federal government.

Recognize two sexes: male and female.

Remove protections for transgender people in federal prisons.

Tariffs and Trade

Direct federal agencies to begin an investigation into trade practices, including persistent trade deficits and unfair currency practices, as well as examine flows of migrants and drugs from Canada, China and Mexico to the United States.

Assess China’s compliance with a trade deal Mr. Trump signed in 2020, as well as the United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement, which Trump signed in 2020 to replace the North American Free Trade Agreement.

Order the government to assess the feasibility of creating an “External Revenue Service” to collect tariffs and duties.

Carry out a full review of the U.S. industrial and manufacturing base to assess whether further national security-related tariffs are warranted.

Energy and the Environment

Withdraw the United States from the Paris Agreement, the pact among almost all nations to fight climate change.

Declare a national energy emergency, a first in U.S. history, which could unlock new powers to suspend certain environmental rules or expedite permitting of certain mining projects.

Attempt to reverse Mr. Biden’s ban on offshore drilling for 625 million acres of federal waters.

Begin the repeal of Biden-era regulations on tailpipe pollution from cars and light trucks, which have encouraged automakers to manufacture more electric vehicles.

Roll back energy-efficiency regulations for dishwashers, shower heads and gas stoves.

Open the Alaska wilderness to more oil and gas drilling.

Restart reviews of new export terminals for liquefied natural gas, something the Biden administration had paused.

Halt the leasing of federal waters for offshore wind farms.

Eliminate environmental justice programs across the government, which are aimed at protecting poor communities from excess pollution.

Review all federal regulations that impose an “undue burden” on the development or use of a variety of energy sources, particularly coal, oil, natural gas, nuclear power, hydropower and biofuels.

TikTok ban

Consult federal agencies on any national security risks posed by the social media platform, then “pursue a resolution that protects national security while saving a platform used by 170 million Americans.” Mr. Trump ordered his attorney general not to enforce a law that banned the site for 75 days to give the Trump administration “an opportunity to determine the appropriate course forward.”

Other

Withdraw from the World Health Organization.

Rename Mount Denali and the Gulf of Mexico.

Ensure that states carrying out the death penalty have a “sufficient supply” of lethal injection drugs.

Fly the American flag at full-staff on Monday and on future Inauguration Days.

Implement the Department of Government Efficiency, the Elon Musk-led cost-cutting initiative.

Revoke security clearances for 51 signers of a letter suggesting that the contents of Hunter Biden’s laptop could be Russian disinformation.