#we brought it to the apple store

[ghostjelliess]

Hey guy, reminder to peep on old devices you might have in storage boxes. This iPhone 5 was in our closet 🙃

[morgana-ren]

Love that Tumblr had banned nsfw artists and artwork, but the fuckin bot accounts are not only unbelievably rabid, but actively recommended to me to the point I scroll, report, scroll scroll scroll, report, scroll, report, report, scroll ad infinium.

They can catch a piece of artwork that shows a smidgeon of tit within literally 24 hours and delete it, but "hi ❤️ my name is JULIYYA and I have HUGE BREADSTS. Call me NOW ❤️" with a picture of some woman crotch out with her fingers fishing in is actively recommended to me.

You say your site is crashing and desperately needs money, and you say apple is SO STRICT about nsfw, so why aren't the bots a priority? Why are they seemingly actively propped by the site? Why are they allowed to TAG their spam WITH CHILD-FRIENDLY TAGS? Why hasn't apple shut us down already if they're so anti-nsfw when literally EVERYONE had a sexbot problem?

Watch this post get a mature content warning, ironically enough.

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

Again, please, please PLEASE reblog this post instead of the one I sent originally. All the information is here, and it's driving me nuts to see the old ones are still passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much.

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 2)

general synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

part synopsis - you take pregnancy tests at spencer’s apartment, because his will always feel safer than your boyfriend’s.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, r is with someone else, douchebag bf trope, pregnancy scare, angst & fluff, comfort, reader is female with female anatomy and feminine

warnings - pregnancy, douchebag boyfriend, mentions of anxiety and sickness, swear words

w/c - >300 probably very short

a/n - how many parts will this have 🔮🔮🪄🪄 answer unknown. sorry it’s so short i wanted to get this out before i totally lost all motivation.

PART 1 HERE

Spencer turned on the seat warmers as soon as he turned on the car, but not too hot - you mentioned a year ago how easily you got warm. He looked over at you before putting the car into reverse, a million thoughts racing through his mind.

He could feel your tension in the air, you were mainly quiet, you sniffled once, you tightened your ponytail. It was a coping mechanism, if you could control the state of your hair, you could control the state of your body.

Leaving the grocery store parking lot, Spencer cleared his throat and started doing what he did best: talking.

“Did you know that your brain is constantly eating itself? It’s a form of phagocytosis, but it actually isn’t harmful. What’s more harmful is laughing, many people have actually died from laughing because it can cause loss of oxygen and heart attacks.”

You simply looked at him, eyes slightly wider than before as your cheeks threatened to raise in a smile.

“Thank you, but that just kind of made me more stressed,” you looked back onto the road, “Tell me more about fruits.”

“You can never get too much sugar from fruits, the water contents of the fruit slows down your digestion and makes you feel full. Plums, pears, peaches, and apples are all a part of the rose family. Tomatoes have more genes than we do.”

He glanced over to you, to see if you were still listening, which of course you were. You would never interrupt him, you would never stop listening, you would never stop Spencer.

He continued, quieter this time, “You don’t like tomatoes.”

“No, I don’t.”

Spencer opened the door for you and shoved his keys in his pockets, his scent surrounding you as you entered the familiar apartment. It was cozy and cluttered. Stacks of books and papers created tables for lamps and the odd pot plant, the wooden floors creaked in some places and the carpet under the couch had one stain from where you spilt wine that one time.

It smelt clean, and like Spencer. You smiled to yourself, and put your handbag on a side table, looking around what you considered your second home (after your childhood house).

“I always liked your apartment better than mine.”

Spencer swerved around you and placed the grocery bag on the kitchen counter, turning on the warm ceiling light. “Why’s that?”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he glanced around his apartment - it didn’t seem all that spectacular to him.

You shrugged, sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter, “I don’t know, I guess it just… feels safe.”

So your apartment doesn’t? Spencer bit his tongue, not wanting to bring you any more stress than you were already suppressing.

The tests were still in the bag and they brought your attention like a moth to a light. You stood and joined him on the kitchen side, grabbing a glass (the one with strawberries on it) and filling it with water. Spencer looked at you concerned as you chugged the water in two gulps.

“I gotta pee some how.”

He nodded and clenched his jaw, “You can change into some of my clothes if you want.”

You thanked him, filled the cup back up and took it into his bedroom, starting your search for comfortable clothes that could maybe ease your tension.

He glanced at his bedroom door anxiously. Spencer was glad that you weren’t feeling as nervous, but he knew it wouldn’t last for much longer. Especially when your phone suddenly rings on the kitchen counter with ‘Lloyd’ on the screen.

“Uh, Y/n? Lloyd’s calling.”

Your shoulders hiked as you smoothed out one of his purple sweaters over your hips. An audible gulp echoed in your ears, and you yelled back through the door, “You can answer it.”

"Hello?" Spencer nearly whispered. "Where are you- Spencer?" "Uh, yeah. Hi." "Is Y/n at your apartment? Why is she at your apartment?" Lloyd’s voice raised. Spencer glanced into his bedroom, the door closed, the sounds of your shuffling around filling the otherwise silent space. "Yeah, she's at my apartment-" "God, she always at your's, isn't she? Tell her to go home, I need to talk to her. She's going crazy. Says she's pregnant, it's insane." He furrowed his eyebrows and pinched the bridge of his nose, a wave of rage rushing over him. "She feels sick, and she's thought about it. She looks pretty stressed." "When does she not look stressed?" Lloyd hung up, leaving Spencer speechless and shocked. If this is what he says and acts like all the time, no wonder you're acting like you are. When she's with me. She's not stressed, when she's with me.

You emerged from his bedroom and Spencer’s eyes latched onto his purple sweater and some of his sweatpants covering your nervous body.

His heart palpitated.

“What did he want?” You took the last sip of your second cup of water and looked at the pregnancy tests on the counter.

“Just wondering where you were.”

You nearly laughed, as if.

���Okay well, I’m gonna go… pee on some sticks.” You sighed and grabbed the boxes, Spencer clenching his jaw and nodding.

“Do you want me to stay here? Or come with you?” He asked softly, treating you like a delicate feather. You looked into his warm and caring eyes and smiled shortly.

“Sure. Just close your eyes and ears when I pee.”

taglist - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner @yokaimoon @flow33didontsmoke @kitsunetori @yasmin12312 @softestqueeen @adoresami @hazza3000 @lov3-audz @issy25 @reidswifeyyyyyy

[mostlysignssomeportents]

An Epic antitrust loss for Google

A jury just found Google guilty on all counts of antitrust violations stemming from its dispute with Epic, maker of Fortnite, which brought a variety of claims related to how Google runs its app marketplace. This is huge:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/12/11/technology/epic-games-google-antitrust-ruling.html

The mobile app store world is a duopoly run by Google and Apple. Both use a variety of tactics to prevent their customers from installing third party app stores, which funnels all app makers into their own app stores. Those app stores cream an eye-popping 30% off every purchase made in an app.

This is a shocking amount to charge for payment processing. The payments sector is incredibly monopolized and notorious for its price-gouging – and its standard (wildly inflated) rate is 2-5%:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

Now, in theory, Epic doesn't have to sell in Google Play, the official Android app store. Unlike Apple's iOS, Android permit both sideloading (installing an app directly without using an app store) and configuring your device to use a different app store. In practice, Google uses a variety of anticompetitive tricks to prevent these app stores from springing up and to dissuade Android users from sideloading. Proving that Google's actions – like paying Activision $360m as part of "Project Hug" (no, really!) – were intended to prevent new app storesfrom springing up was a big lift for Epic. But they managed it, in large part thanks to Google's own internal communications, wherein executives admitted that this was exactly why Project Hug existed. This is part of a pattern with Big Tech antitrust: many of the charges are theoretically very hard to make stick, but because the companies put their evil plans in writing (think of the fraudulent crypto exchange FTX, whose top execs all conferred in a groupchat called "Wirefraud"), Big Tech keeps losing in court:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

Now, I do like to dunk on Big Tech for this kind of thing, because it's objectively funny and because the companies make so many unforced errors. But in an important sense, this kind of written record is impossible to avoid. Any large institution can only make and enact policy through administrative systems, and those systems leave behind a paper-trail: memos, meeting minutes, etc. Yes, we all know that quote from The Wire: "Is you taking notes on a fucking criminal conspiracy?" But inevitably, any ambitious conspiracy can only exist if someone is taking notes.

What's more, any large conspiracy involving lots of parties will inevitably produce leaks. Think of this as the corollary to the idea that the moon landing can't be a hoax, because there's no way 400,000 co-conspirators could keep the secret. Big Tech's conspiracies required hundreds or even thousands of collaborators to keep their mouths shut, and eventually someone blabs:

https://www.science.org/content/article/fake-moon-landing-you-d-need-400000-conspirators

This is part of a wave of antitrust cases being brought against the tech giants. As Matt Stoller writes, the guilty-on-all-counts jury verdict will leak into current and future actions. Remember, Google spent much of this year in court fighting the DoJ, who argued that the company bribed Apple not to make a competing search engine, paying tens of billions every year to keep a competitor from emerging. Now that a jury has convinced Google of doing that to prevent alternative app stores from emerging, claims that it used these pay-for-delay tactics in other sectros get a lot more credible:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/boom-google-loses-antitrust-case

On that note: what about Apple? Epic brought a very similar case against Apple and lost. Both Apple and Epic are appealing that case to the Supreme Court, and now that Google has been convicted in a similar case, it might prompt the Supremes to weigh in and resolve the seeming inconsistencies in the interpretation of federal law.

This is a key moment in the long project to wrest antitrust away from the pro-monopoly side, who spent decades "training" judges to produce verdicts that run counter to the plain language of America's antitrust law:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/13/post-bork-era/#manne-down

There's 40 years' worth of bad precedent to overturn. The good news is that we've got the law on our side. Literally, the wording of the laws and the records of the Congressional debate leading to their passage, all militate towards the (incredibly obvious) conclusion that the purpose of anti-monopoly law is to fight monopoly, not defend it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

It's amazing to realize that we got into this monopoly quagmire because judges just literally refused to enforce the law. That's what makes one part of the jury verdict against Google so exciting: the jury found that Google's insistence that Play Store sellers use its payment processor was an act of illegal tying. Today, "tying" is an obscure legal theory, but few doctrines would be more useful in disenshittifying the internet. A company is guilty of illegal tying when it forces you to use unrelated products or services as a condition of using the product you actually want. The abandonment of tying led to a host of horribles, from printer companies forcing you to buy ink at $10,000/gallon to Livenation forcing venues to sell tickets through its Ticketmaster subsidiary.

The next phase of this comes when the judge decides on the penalty. Epic doesn't want cash damages – it wants the judge to order Google to fulfill its promise of "an open, competitive Android ecosystem for all users and industry participants." They've asked the judge to order Google to facilitate third-party app stores, and to separate app stores from payment processors. As Stoller puts it, they want to "crush Google’s control over Android":

https://www.epicgames.com/site/en-US/news/epic-v-google-trial-verdict-a-win-for-all-developers

Google has sworn to appeal, surprising no one. The Times's expert says that they will have a tough time winning, given how clear the verdict was. Whatever this means for Google and Android, it means a lot for a future free from monopolies.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/12/im-feeling-lucky/#hugger-mugger

[ultravi0lence14]

Born In The U.S.A

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.3k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: in a spur of the moment decision, dean decides to take his wide eyed angel on a road trip to see all of his favourite places in america.

“dean, are we there yet?” your sweet voice drifted through the small confines of baby, sending a smile onto dean’s face as he counted that being the fourth time you’ve said that in the span of five minutes.

you were so used to flying wherever you needed to go, that it took dean a good couple of months to explain to you that driving took a little more time than your usual choice of wing transportation.

he gave your thigh a light squeeze with the hand resting on it, turning his head slightly so he could see your bewildered expression. “almost there, sweets. just another hour or so.”

you and dean had spent the past couple of days in the impala together, driving around different places in america so he could show you his all time favourite spots.

he had realized you didn’t know much about earth, and in a last minute decision, he whisked you away from the bunker and left sam and cas to deal with any up coming cases.

dean hadn’t expected you to be so ecstatic. he was expecting you to worry about leaving the workload on sam and your brother. though he was greatly surprised when you jumped into his arms, hands hugging tightly around his neck as you peppered countless kisses on his face and neck.

the excitement confused him slightly, asking you why you weren’t worried. you just smiled at him, revealing that you’ve been undergoing an unfamiliar feeling of need for dean and just dean. you wanted some alone time with him, and dean winchester wasn’t one to complain about that.

so the two of you set off on your journey, the open road and dean’s favourite american destinations in front of you.

the stops you two had been on were pretty eventful. dean had started off in chicago, parking his car and taking you on a stroll throughout the city. you were confused on what he wanted to show you until the two of you stopped in front of what dean called ‘the big bean’. you looked at him bewildered, dean’s excited face confusing you more. your lips parted with lack of words before you looked at dean with a subtle look of wonder. “why is it called that, dean? it’s just a giant, metal blob.”

he followed up your trip to chicago with the next stop being in north carolina. dean brought the two of you to a truck stop, explaining that this was the first place his dad let him drive the impala. he followed that up with going inside the small convenience store attached and buying you a shirt that said ‘truck life or no life’. he ended up taking a picture of you wearing the shirt, you wearing an even more confused face to match. he posted it to his friends only facebook page, the caption reading, “my angel is better than yours.”

your last stop was in minnesota, dean pulling into a sleepy looking diner that had you fearing for what he had up his sleeve. though you were thoroughly surprised that all dean had in mind was expressing his love for what he called ‘the best apple pie in the whole damn world.’

countless times you told him it was a waste of time to come here. that all food tasted like molecules and you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. dean didn’t seem to care though. he just kissed you on the cheek, leaving a slight residue of apple filling as he spoke through a mouthful of pie, “with you here, it’s all i could ever dream of.”

now you two had been driving for a day or two, not stopping until you got to maine; per dean’s request. you didn’t know what he had in store for this state, but you were starting to get antsy trying to figure out what it could be.

dean seemed way to calm for your liking. classic rock cassette taps playing in the background as his fingers tapped the beat on your leg. the angelic side of you wanted to worry, but the other side that loved and trusted dean with your entire being said otherwise.

as he turned onto a dirt road that was off the side of the highway, your bewilderment grew ten fold, not understanding where dean was going to take you. the impala rumbled to a stop, your curiosity leading you to lean forward and get closer to the windshield to a get a better look at where dean had taken you.

in an instant it all made sense. the willow tree that overlooked a mossy pond took over your vision, and dean was grinning ear to ear as you whipped your head to look at him with a surprised smile on your face.

“dean,” you breathed out, opening the car door and stepping out into the earthy atmosphere. “this is the place where we met for the first time.”

“it is, sweets. possibly the best place america has to offer.” the grin on dean’s face could outshine a million suns, following behind you as you slowly walked towards the droopy tree. the two of you had met here around one year ago; castiel had heard static over angel radio, implying at a rogue angel was coming down to earth.

you’d rebelled like cas, seeing all the good that he was doing for humanity and disagreeing with the harsh and lucrative beliefs of the angels. when you fell underneath that willow tree, wings and grace gone, you were so confused, harbouring the knowledge of millennia and eons with no knowledge in how humans operated in today’s society.

when cas quickly transported sam and dean to the location in a remote location in maine, the group of three found you huddled underneath the willow tree, soaked to the bone from landing in the pond and shaking like a leaf. your knees were brought to your chest and you were rocking back and forth, reminding dean of a petulant child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t.

the brother’s decided that cas should approach you. and when he did, you looked up at him with these big and wet eyes that had dean’s heart breaking in half. he heard you mumble a, “why do i feel like this, castiel? why is there this hollow pit in my stomach making everything feel so empty?”

“you’re experiencing human emotions, most likely a sense of heavy sadness.” his gentle nature and smile brightened your face a bit, allowing you to follow his actions as he softly gripped your elbow and raised you to your feet.

“come with us,” dean spoke lighter than he’s ever heard himself. “we’ll teach you how to live.”

the rest was history, and now, dean stood under the same tree where he saw you for the first time. he remembers how scared you were that day, eyes fleeting over the bunker like something was going to jump out and kill you.

for a couple of months you were in a rough place. missing your brother’s and sister’s while slowly adapting to human life. dean was by your side the whole time, and those moments spent together was what grew the profound bond between you two. this is when dean started to feel his heart stop and clench anytime you came into a room; the time he fell in love with you.

“dean, this is amazing.” there was a teary lilt to your voice, and in an instant you’d turned around and collapsed into dean’s arms. he was warm against the biting air, bringing you close into his body as his hands found purchase in stroking your hair.

“thank you.” the two words left your mouth in breaths, smushing against dean’s chest as he smiled down at you, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head.

pulling away from you at an arms length, following up by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, dean walked the two of you towards the willow tree, a little smile decorating his face. “honestly angel, we can just tell people you were born here. no one needs to know. though to me, you’ll always be born in the u.s.a.”

“isn’t that the song sam likes?”

“oh sweetheart, i have so much more to teach you.”

*dean totally has a facebook account with only ten followers where he posts almost 10 times a day and i’ll die on that hill.

tags: @a1ecmcdowell @jasvtsc @ostaramoon @cosmicanakin @fallbhind @aylacavebear @rubyvhs

[biteyoubiteme]

lemon cake

lemon drop!soobin x angel cake!reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ synopsis In a world where everything is sugary and sweet, it is always fun to throw in a little twist. Quiet and tired Lemon Drop finds himself struggling to keep up with the day to day of single-parent life. Knocking on Angel Cake's door, begging for more than just help, might take care of two of his problems.  ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ warnings 🔞!!! fairytale au, lemon drop!soobin, angel cake fem!reader, slight spit kink, spit and cum as flavored aphrodisiacs, not really but chuddy reader implied bc angel cakes body is soft and described as cake (skin indents and takes a few seconds to bounce back), mentions of masturbation (f! and m!), hand job, oral (m!rec), virginity loss, breeding kink, corruption kink, biting, cumplay/eating/snowballing, no protection, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

⊹₊ ݁ . wc: 8.9k . ݁₊ ⊹

၄၃ ⸝⸝⸝ now playing: new emotion- the aces an: ive never been so happy to post a fic before! this was so very fun to work on with my moots. im honored to have worked alongside some absolutely incredible writers- actually wild that you let me in on this when you guys are just so amazing im a little dazed lol. and it was so fun to read everyones fics early and go back and forth on little ideas we found would benefit each others works. this was one of the best things to do and im so thankful for mae and her mind,,go read everyone elses fics pls pls pls they are so so good. anyways love my friends <333 [m.list] [strawberry shortcake m.list]

Angel Cake loved a routine. Most things could be broken down into a neat list of checkpoints, a simple to-do list set up like the recipe for a good day. She would get to the store early, prep the tables, and make sure all the clothes were neat enough for when she opened the door. Sometimes a new shipment would come in and she would take her time checking off every box as she added the new items to her inventory. She loved folding all the shirts up, stacking them, lining them all so neatly, and keeping them color-organized.

It wasn't until an hour later that the store officially opened for the day, the sweet buttery scent from the town's shops wafting in through the doors. Angel Cake would sit behind the register looking through catalogs to pick out new things to order, helping customers when they filtered in and lulled around the shop admiring her cute displays. Almost an hour after opening is when her favorite customer arrived. “Strawberry!”

She loved to shop, everything she wore was hand-selected by Angel, perfectly picked out from the catalog with her in mind. Even the pale blue shirt worn by Kai was bought within these four walls. The sweet blueberry boy gave a shy wave, apple dumpling, strawberry’s little sister, running right past the two of them to her favorite section in the store.

“I brought you your share from the bake sale,” the cream-colored box carefully held in hand. It was one of the small things Angel looked forward to, the soft cake and cream, the first bite of sweetness. “They took a little longer than expected to make but they turned out so good,”

Kai flushed a deep shade of blue, the color only highlighted by the blue strands of his hair. Even Strawberry was blushing, her eyes tacking onto apple dumpling to avoid looking at angel cakes questioning glance. “Berry why don't you help Dumpling pick out a new school dress, I see angels gotten some new ones in,”

It was all it took for Kai to follow after the giggling child, leaving Angel and Strawberry alone. “You won't believe the weekend I've had,”

“Was it beomgyu? I hear he went to the market for the first time in a month and acted so bitter over Cherry’s jam,”

“No no nothing like that, I just- berry and I-” If strawberry could get any more color to shade her cheeks she would, her flush traveling to her ears, “We kind of…”

“You kind of what?” Angel Cake had known for years that Blueberry had a crush on Strawberry. They spent most of their time together, strawberry baking and blueberry strumming his guitar. It wasn't news to Angel that either of them had fallen into a relationship without much effort.

“We kissed and then it wasn't kissing it was- well-” she was struggling to find the right words, the images of the night before flashing in her eyes as she stumbled through the words. “It was so much more than kissing, the both of us were just insatiable and he just- he tasted so good,”

“Tasted? Like when you kissed?” Angel tilted her head as if that would tip the right information into the right spot for her to understand. Tasting someone did not necessarily sound all too fun, she could picture the underwhelming flavor of blueberries and didn't find it appealing at all. Angel was never really a fan of how plain they could be, although she would never confess that to Strawberry who couldn't stop herself from remembering the flavor as if it was spilling right back onto her tongue.

“Not exactly-” but it was all Strawberry could say before the two of you turned to the sound of apple dumping giving a shout.

“Meringue!” the little blonde, dimpled-cheeked child, giggling as she ran to meet her friend, exclaiming just as loud, “Dumpling!”

Everyone in all of Strawberry Land knew exactly how close the two little girls were. Spending hours joined at the hip, playing games, singing songs, and laughing enough to fill the sweetest of souls with the happiness shared between the two of them. Most times lemon meringue would find herself sprawled out on the living room floor, coloring with apple dumpling while angel cake and strawberry tested recipes in the kitchen. The two little girls being the best test testers, never afraid to say when they didn't like something.

Most times meringue was over because Blueberry was the perfect babysitter, teaching the girls how to play the guitar, and finding fun ways to keep them entertained. He kept them busy while Lemon Drop, meringue’s dad, was off at the local college teaching. Lemon drop soobin was always a bit bitter, the slight tinge to his personality always brought forward with his obvious sleepiness. His under eyes slightly bruised from the late hours he spent bent over books, grading papers, and chasing after his little sweet tart. Rumpled shirt half untucked from his pants, butter blonde hair mussed, and glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Angel Cake could feel her stomach flutter at the sight, he looked unbelievably warm, the kind of person you wanted to slip into and cuddle up. His lazy blinking eyes tracked around the sweet cream shop, deeply breathing in the sugary air.

Soobin wanted a nap, the warmth of the shop hugging him the second he breached the doorway. It was the favorite shop on the strip, the scent pulling him in amongst the rest of the fruity temptations. Buttery warmth hinted with vanilla cream beckoned him in that direction every time. It was easy to get lost in thought and follow his footsteps right to your door without realizing it when he followed his instincts. With an excuse to step inside, he could settle his craving without shyly backing away from the doorway, tinted pink from the recurring embarrassment of finding the shop irresistible. It was okay when Meringue was with him, but when he was alone, gazing through the sugar glass window to see angel cake folding or hanging clothes, it was a little more awkward.

He wasn't particularly known as the fondest resident in strawberryland. He was known to fight back, the sting of his arguments leaving people with a bitter impression of him. It was something that was expected of the debate professor, teaching the people how to stand up for themselves and find the proper form to an argument.

Angel found him to always cut back the sweetness of the people who took his class, leveling out their need to please in a way that she knew people who didn't take his class found caustic. Working in such a closed shop she heard more than anyone else did in the street market, the stalls so open the voices carried over to one another. No secrets could be kept when the air picked up every sound, enough so that anyone could get burned when gossip traveled. It made her shop the gossip harbor, the walls soaking in the secrets enough so that it set the illusion that nothing would make it to the unknowing subject of conversation.

Just last week she heard the run-around rumor mill turning out stories of frosty puff and gingerbread taehyun. The occasional talk of lemon drop, he's just so sour, listing ways to prove someone wrong. Can't we all just get along and not fight? He must be teaching that poor sweetheart of his such nasty things.

It had made Angel roll her eyes. Who cared if he was giving the rest of Strawberry Land a backbone, it was needed in such a basket of softies. But Angel knew she was in the same boat, still a product of her environment, soobin had moved back after finding himself in a big city amongst the rich and decadent. Nothing like the homegrown bunch he had been born from.

Strawberry pinched angel's arm, her soft flesh dimpling at the draw to attention. It always took a second for Angel's skin to bounce back from a tight hold, easily squashed like the cake from which she was named. “It wasn’t just kissing it was- I don't even know how to describe it, we tasted each other in places I never thought to before,”

“Like where?” it felt absurd to think of putting angel's mouth anywhere besides the mouth of a lover, maybe the back of their hand. Strawberry fiddled with the loose ribbon she used to tie a bow on the shortcake box, tugging the strand until it neatly fell away. Even for her name, Angel had never seen strawberry so pink, from ear to ear as she swallowed. “Down there,” her eyes flickered down to Angel's zipper, popping up just as quickly to see if Angel understood what she was saying.

“Berry!” Angel whisper-shouted, shocked, and intrigued all at once. Angel wasn't too dense, she understood to some extent how it worked but never thought about their being a flavor, or even that your mouth was used for more than just kissing.

“Angel, I don't even know how to describe how good it tasted- better than this,” she held up the short plump cake, the sweet cream swirled on top and donned with a little strawberry heart. “And it's hard to taste any better than this, I mean it's more addictive than sugar,”

It seemed hard to believe, especially when Angel sunk her teeth into the light dessert. The warmth of the sponge still lingers in between the ripples of fresh fruit. The frosting was her favorite part, dotting her upper lip in the clear mark of overindulgence, the creamy whips making her softly moan.

The sound echoed in the shop, just loud enough to be heard under the giggles of the girls, talking out planned outfits to wear to school tomorrow, but it didn't catch Kai’s attention, only catching the ear of lonely Lemon Drop Soobin. He watched the way Angel wiped at her mouth, sucking her thumb clean before rolling her eyes, “Hard to believe,”

“Well, you won't know until you try,” Strawberry muttered, closing the box of sweets and tying the bow back up.

“Ew no, I hate to say it but blueberry is kind of a flavorless fruit-” Angel Cake started looking over to where soobin and Kai stood. Angel stuttered in her speech, cheeks flushed and shoulders straightening under Soobin’s piercing gaze. Strawberry not even noticing the hiccup, “No! Not with Kai, anyone else but him, I mean it, Angel, it was something else,”

Soobin quirked a brow, Angel's cheeks deepening in color. It didn't help that he was looking at her with her train of thought derailing in the direction of a lovely open pool of crisp lemonade. She could just smell the citrusy freshness that followed after him, the scent that made her perfectly aware of how different they were, and forced her to face the recollection that she wanted him in a horribly needy way.

She wondered exactly what he would taste like, obviously lemony, but would he be more sweet or sour? Fresh or bitter? He was the opposite of sweet little blueberry who was now clapping at the choice of dresses the girls had picked out. Lemon drop was a streak of verbena-washed clarity in a town full of half-baked sweet tarts. She wanted him to wash over her and teach her things she never would have known without him, open her pallet to more than just the sweets found in a shop just like Strawberry said. Because as much as she talked down on the people around her, she was just as close to them, still grappling with the niceties of sprouting out in a field of pushovers. But she had time to bake, enough so that she knew she wanted more than just a dollop of sweetness to finish her off. She needed the honesty of someone who would be just as bitter as she was sweet, someone who had left and come back, someone who knew exactly what she wanted and had achieved it themself. Only now all she could think about was what exactly you had to do for a taste of anything at zipper level.

“You know, I heard he's looking for a sitter, especially because Kai is helping me so much at the stand. It's great to have Dumpling around but sometimes following her and meringue is a bit much,” Strawberry added, looking right past soobin to where Blueberry was fussing over apple dumplings shoelaces.

“Really?” soobin had broken eye contact to tend to little lemon meringue, carrying the outfits she's picked out in one arm and pushing back his hair with a ruddy knuckled hand. She watched the two of them like she was memorizing her favorite recipe, taking the time to run over every line, connecting the little bullet point dimples the two of them shared. Even when Strawberry took her bunch with her out the door, leaving the two of them alone at her counter, she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her features.

“Don't you just love it, angel? It's so bright and pretty and does a perfect twirl when I spin,” meringue is nearly a spitting image of lemon drop, the only difference is her hair doesn't have the classic butter blond but a sun-washed version, the roots starting as a toasted tan color before fading out. But even then it's impossible to say they weren't related. Holding onto the edge of the checkout counter, hand still fluttering over the dress she's picked. Soobin reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, grinning with the edge of his mouth as he watches her look up at Angel with her big brown eyes, dimple so deep in his cheeks she's sure she can swim in it. “It's perfect,” Soobin mutters.

For someone who has been pushed into the bitter pile by the rest of the town, Angel finds it hard to believe someone like the man before her could be anything but comforting. It was in his name, lemon drop, so nostalgic, in and of itself an acquired taste.

“I know you think that but I was asking angel,” meringue scrunched up her nose in that little kid's way, the light dusting of faded freckles tucked into the creases like a bunched blanket.

“I love it, would it even be a good dress without a perfect twirl? It's why I make sure all of the dresses in here look good when you spin,” Angel folds the items neatly sliding them into the gift bag. “Here you go,”

Soobin passes out the exact change, hand brushing angels as he lets the money go, surprised by the warmth radiating off the soft contact. Just as comforting as the alluring scent in the streets he shouldn’t have expected any less. Meringue is elated to be handed her bag giggling to herself as she thanks Angel and her dad. “Next time I see you I hope I can see your perfect twirl and soob- lem-” Angel stumbles over the right name, never really having spoken to him personally besides a few light greetings in passing.

“Soobin is fine,” his grin was a mix of amusement and arrogance that whipped Angel around in a mix of unrelenting jealousy. The ease with which he found himself walking through life was something angel only wished to grasp, and here he was, with confidence written into a single smile.

“Okay, soobin, if you ever need help after five I'm always free to watch her when you need work done. Strawberry was just telling me you could use a hand, "Angel says it so innocently, eyes blinking up to him in a way that he can't think about too closely. It takes everything in him not to look down at the very hand she speaks of, even if it's metaphorically. Because he could use a hand, specifically hers wrapped around him revealing the stress he was feeling in ways that he knew only she would be able to take care of. But it was too much to ask in a place like this, too much to think about when he was in public, and certainly too much when his child was waiting by the door for him to take her to her playdate.

“Thank you I could- um- really use the help,” he didn't know what to do with his hands, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose only for them to slip right back down, hand running through his already messy hair. It was the most angel had ever seen him discomposed, more like a stuttering school boy instead of a college professor who made school boys cower.

“Okay just let me know, you know where you can find me,”

It was only a few days later when soobin came by to ask for Angel's assistance, meringue hot on his heels as he shuffled into the shop right before closing. “I know it's last minute but Kai was supposed to take her to Strawberry’s house but turns out he cant and-”

“It's okay,” Angel chuckled, “I know the two of them have been so finicky with plans recently it's no problem at all. I just need to make sure the doors are locked up and then we can go,” and so they waited while you twisted the key, checking the knob twice, and shuddering from the slight chill in the air. In only a few days, Angel knew the gingerbread cobblestones would be coated in the thin glaze of the first frost, dollops of shoveled snow pushed up against her shop looking like misplaced piles of spilled frosting.

Lemon meringue ran ahead, her ballet flat-covered feet skipping between each stone like a made-up hopscotch map only she could see. Instinctively, Angel walked a step closer to soobin, bumping his arm with every other step they took toward his house at the end of the lane. Angel knew this was one of the reasons why he was accepted more than his other bitter labeled fellows, he lived in town, and went to town meetings even if he didn't add to the majority opinions. If he lived down on the outskirts, house kissing the woods or worse buried deep inside them, he wouldn't have a chance of being accepted in the way that he has been. It gave Meringue the best opportunity to find friends and build a relationship with the community before they ostracized her for being anything but sweet because of the name she carried.

Pushing open the door to their modest place, Angel was surprised by the solace laced into the brown woods and honey-colored accents thrown around the house. Stacks of leather tomes litter tidy shelves, and little dolls, and figurines placed by meringue are known only because of how high each item reaches. It smelled of freshly picked lemons and the cozy baked smell of warmed sugar. It was just late enough for the sun to be setting in through the gauzy curtains, casting the room in a warm golden glow. Angel wasn't to bask in the light, curl up like a kitten on the plush couch, tucked in with the knitted blanket tossed over the back like an invitation.

Meringue shot forward, hand wrapped around Angel's wrist tugging her past the living room and to the overly saturated room that could only belong to a child as happy as her. “Look, angel! I can show you all my princess dresses, we can do a fashion show!” She pushed open a trunk decorated like a little carriage fit to wheel a queen in, the lid holding back all the tulle and silk, only to now spill out like an overstuffed donut.

Soobin chuckled by the doorway, knowing exactly how his daughter was. She would keep Angel entertained enough for the both of them, needing no help to find something to do. It was the only thought in his head until he caught sight of Angel's wrist, his little meringue’s handprint still indented on her soft skin. He watched in amazement the way it slowly rose back into shape like a cake filling the tin in the oven. The thoughts running in his head were nothing to be proud of, images of his hands on the plush of angel tummy driving him mad. He had to turn away, leaving them alone in the room to focus on the stack of papers he had on the edge of his desk to dull the image of his handprint on the crease of her hip, dented into her thigh.

It was hard to get work done as is, his mind always fluttering through the tasks at hand, the next paper to grade, the time to pick up meringue, when he would be able to fit in the time to sleep. Now all he can think about is sweet cream dotting the smooth expanse of buttery cake. He hardly got through the few papers waiting for him, red pen in hand, staining the tips of his fingers as it sat motionless waiting for him to write. Hours passed, the soft laughter and chatting heard through the cracked door, every so often a glimpse of yellow and pink crossed in front of his field of vision, both angel and meringue going from the living room and back.

It made soobin happy to not worry that Meringue was having a good time, sometimes she fell shy especially when not near Apple Dumpling. She even had to warm up to Strawberry, only becoming her bubbly self when she and dumpling were alone, hiding behind her closest advisers in the face of someone new. But Meringue had always wanted to talk to Angel Cake even before they had known her to be best friends with Strawberry. His sweet lemony girl's eyes go wide and glittery seeing the expanse of clothes held in Angel's shop, do you think she gets to try on anything she wants? Look at how cute she dressed Daddy! I wish I had her job.

Every little comment only showed how deeply Meringue wanted to play dress up, more so play with Angel. He's sure even if he had asked for Angel to watch meringue in the shop she would have just as much fun as she was having going around the house now. He loved how comfortable Meringue found herself around Angel, and how Angel accepted his girl with open arms.

Time slipped past soobin without realizing the laughter had faded into hazy silence, more than half his stack of papers cleared through and marked to be returned to waiting students. He ran his fingers under his eyes, glasses set askew from the rubbing, sighing into the empty study. Soobin didn't notice Angel until he smelled her, that wonderfully delicate sweet smell of vanilla sweetness making him hold back his groan. He had thought it had only been the smell of the shop. The cake-like walls were made to pull in customers like the cinnamon scent of a bakery wafting through the streets, beckoning all who breathed in the air. Maybe Angel smelled so delicious because of working all day, the scent rubbing off and sticking to her hair, her clothes, her skin.

“She's fast asleep, knocked out almost as soon as she laid down to read her bedtime book,” Angel leaned against the edge of soobins desk, hip digging into the wood, fingers sprawled over the skewed pages of work. To Soobin, she was a dazzling masterpiece of messy hair and flushed skin, dress short enough for him to see the way the desk was pinching her thigh.

“Thank you,” the words twisted into a whisper from how dry his mouth had gotten just from looking at a single strip of skin. Licking his lips he tried to swallow, finding something to say besides the hollow echo of words he had managed.

“Oh it's nothing really, she's a doll,” Angel's eyes danced over the pages at her hand, “you lived in the city right?” even just the mention had soobins mind going back to the dull colorless house he found himself in when studying for his degree. It made him sick to think about raising meringue in a place like that, she was why he had moved back home, not caring how off-put the rest of the town was about him now.

“Yes, I did,” he sat back in his chair, one elbow still resting on the desk and the other laid out on the armrest. He was half turned to angel, lower because of sitting and now having her tower over him. And her damn thigh was there right next to him, knuckles twitching to brush over the smooth expanse of skin.

“Did you like it?” Angel had tipped her voice down to a whisper, the dim light needing the change when she had decorated the question in enough hope and worry. It wasn't as if Soobin’s answer would change much, she knew she dreamed of a city out there bright enough to blind the thought of home but it was hard to leave when it was all she ever knew, she didn't even know if she truly wanted to leave.

“I liked it enough,” soobin bit at his bottom lip, worrying over the question. It was as honest an answer as he could give. “But it wasn't home, not for me, not for meringue. There is nothing quite like the comfort of home,”

“Like this place you have here,” Angel lifted her chin, looking around the packed study with even more books and bobs. “That couch of yours looks too cozy not to nap on,”

“You should see my bed,” it was a quick response, one that didn't pass the filter connected to the bit of his mouth that kept him from saying anything embarrassing. “I- I didn’t mean it like that-”

But Angel didn't get the innuendo embedded into the words, she just nodded, “I should, I bet it's just as warm as the rest of this place, you have it at just the right temperature,”

The lack of sleep was making him loose, his finger drifting out to press right into the outside of Angel's thigh, pushing against the soft plush of her skin just enough to feel the heat from her, “you sure it's not you? You seem to keep warm enough,”

“Oh no, take it from a cake to know exactly when they walk into the right level of warmth. This is perfectly cozy,”

“You do feel…lively,” soobin drags his finger up Angel's thigh, reaching right to the hem of her dress, stopping right before it could go any further. The line he had drawn was like the roadmap to the realization that he should not be touching her like this. But it was incredibly hard to remember his mind when he felt this hazy; drunk off the lack of sleep and the sweet smell of sugary cake.

Angel felt the pad of his finger slip right up her spine, sink into her nervous system, and cloud her mind. Even if he had pulled away, flexing his hand as if that would sink the feeling of her warm skin into his palm, she could swear the touch was tattooed right there forever now.

She couldn’t forget it, not on the walk home, not when she showered the day away, not even when she climbed into bed. The moonlight slipped in through her lacy curtains, the soft gleam pulling her mind right back to the study. Her finger pressed right where she remembered him, circling the spot like she was tracing the shape of the yellowing moon on her thigh.

Even the moon made her think of him, a little lemon drop in the sky, her bed warm enough to picture what it would be like to snuggle up in his. Her fingers were too soft and not at all how she needed them to be to pick up her illusion. Pressing them harder into her thigh she felt an ache between her legs, centered right at the heart of her.

Angel had never felt such a pull to touch herself, not until the butter blonde boy was there just out of reach, so close to palming her thigh instead of just using the tip of his fingers. She wanted his hands all over her, they didn't even need to be warm, she just needed him. Needed his finger pressed on the tormentor's bud that called for him. But for now, she would have to make do, her hand pushed into her shorts feeling along the wet seam of herself never knowing that her body would crave someone so bad without even having tasted them like strawberry had said.

But the only thing on her mind was lemon drop, her hips rolling into her hand, the soft moans drawn out from a mouth so unfamiliar with this sound. Her body told her the way to move, and where to seek peak pleasure until she was a gasping mess, creaming around her dainty digits. Angel Cakes' new discovery was a calamity, highlighting a deep desire she didn't know she could hold within herself. A catastrophe; soobin had been the one to knock a tray of glasses to the floor, already so recklessly close to the edge until one push sent them shattering, angel couldn't clean the glass fast enough, left to never be the same again.

Soobin was no better, he was a cracked vase slowly leaking out in drips of sun-melted ice, he had to hold it together for work, for home; hastily wrapping fingers around the seeping seams only for his thoughts to pour out between his fingers. Because angel cake was spinning in his living room, twirling around with his daughter, giggling until they were a dizzy pile on the floor. His office door just cracked as he caught sight of angels' sweet lacy white panties, clinging to the curve of her ass. If he had knocked over the tray of her sanity, angel cake had taken a hammer to his fragile vase, smashed it until it was powered, and easily passed as dusting sugar on the treats in strawberry’s shop.

Soobin felt his addiction take its toll on him, every night the image of angel cake washed over his sleeping mind until he was reduced to nothing but a needy muddled mess of thruming joints. He couldn't go one day without his hand wrapped around his cock, working his wrist until he was spilling dribbles of cum onto sheets that needed her in them. It was worse when his order from strawberry came in, Kai handing the box over right at the doorway, picking up Meringue for her sleepover with Dumpling. The smell of the shortcake filled the house as soon as he shut the door behind them.

He was embarrassed to have such an obsession with angel cake, sure that she would cringe away from his desperation for her. So desperate he was standing in the kitchen with one hand down his pants and the other digging into the soft sponge of one of the cakes just brought over. The cream and crumb squished out between his fingers as he came, moaning into the empty space until the sound reverberated around him, the smell of her dancing around his body. He wanted her, needed her.

Soobin didn’t even remember the trip to Angel's shop's door, his nose pulling him along the crumb-dotted cobblestone, leading him right to the front doors, so willing to be eaten by the magic-laced girl inside. He could see her through the frosted glass windows, the closed sign turned to signal the end of her shift but she was leaning over the stand of shirts, fixing them in the way she wanted, her end-of-day routine. He could smell her, that buttery sweetness addicting, making him delirious. He wanted to sink his hands into her warm flesh, hold her tight enough so that if anyone saw they would know it was his hands that had been on her, that she was his, and his alone.

He pushed open the unlocked door, the ding of the bell signaling his entrance, that glance over her shoulder ruining him once and for all. “Hi! Did I forget I was supposed to come over tonight? I can pack up real quick or she can stay here-”

“No, blueberry took her- i- i-” he was struggling with the words, a stuttering fool standing in the middle of the shop like he'd come to beg. And he had, he would beg her till the end of his days to have one taste, to have her tear into him like she was peeling back the layers of his sanity. “I need you,”

“Oh?” she tilted her head to the side, the pure look of innocence smashing into him like a wave. He wanted to stain her, fill her up, and call her his.

Soobin struggled to swallow, every breath filling his lungs with her, she was right there on the tip of his tongue. “I need you,” his hand reached down to the bulge sitting against his thigh, hard, thick, and weeping for her.

If Angel Cake hadn't spoken to Strawberry about the zipper-level kisses she would have been confused beyond belief. But it had been all she could think of since then, what it would be like to lick up his body and know exactly what it was that made people so addicted. Because she was grappling with the fact that she was already falling down the rabbit hole of need, to finally taste him would be like crashing right into another world. “I don't know- I don't know how-” she was flushed all over from the confession because she didn't want him to leave, if he needed her she would mold herself to fit and fix any problem he had. Her lack of knowledge wouldn't hold her back, if he was a teacher she would be his best student.

“I'll show you, tell you everything you need to know,” he snapped the button on his pants, undoing the zipper releasing enough pressure to let out the most sinful noise angel had ever heard. She could feel her panties flooded with the cream that had been leaking from her for days now, always tied to the thought of him. If he felt even a fraction of how she did, Angel would make sure to take the best care of him.

“O-okay,” Angel Cake could feel her mouth water, her thighs pulling together, needing them closer to relieve the ache she felt. Soobin locked the door behind him, tugging Angel to a spot behind a rack of clothes. “Here get on your knees in front of me,”

Angel was fast to listen, sinking to the ground in front of him, hands placed neatly on the tops of her thighs, looking up at soobin with those wanting eyes. Just thinking about those plush lips warping around his cock was taking him out, and watching the tip of her tongue wet her mouth was excruciating. Soobin reached into his pants, pulling out his veiny shaft, the sheer size making Angel's eyes widen.

She didn't know what she was expecting but she was not expecting to feel empty at the sight. The top of him was shiny with a layer of leaking pre-cum. Soobin ran his thumb across his slit collecting the wetness to swirl around the tip, moaning at the way Angel's mouth fell open without realizing. “You can touch it,” he nodded, watching how Angel was gripping her skirt, crinkling the fabric trying to hold herself back.

Angel lifted a shaking hand, fingers brushing the side of him, amazed at the softness so much that she wrapped her hand around him and gave a tug. Soobins chest rumbled, his hand reaching out for the rack next to him, the hangers clattering from the force of his grip. “Sorry-”

“No, no you're doing good, just like that, slow and easy,” he nodded, biting back his moan when her wrist flicked again, “you can squeeze a little harder,” he whispered, his free hand finding itself around hers, showing her just the right amount of pressure he was looking for. Soobin's hand guided Angel's until he was using her hold as if it was his own, speeding up the pace.

Angel watches in amazement as soobins head rolls back, his brows pinched as he whimpers. She's never wanted to taste something or someone so bad, and now, with him right in front of her, she can't resist the temptation for what it is. Angel sits up just enough so that she can press a sweet kiss to his tip, a string of pre-cum still connecting her lips to him. Soobin lets out a shocked gasp, watching the way she licks her lips clean.

The taste is subtle, the sweet and sour mixed together only to draw Angel back in for more. She didn't even know what she was doing, compelled by the flavor to envelop him fully, the flat of her tongue licked up and around to collect more of the addictive fluid. Soobin’s knees go weak at the warmth of her mouth, hips jerking to try to chase the feeling, “Oh fuck just like that,” his hand still holding hers, working over the rest that wasn't pressed into her mouth.

Angel cake moaned around him, his bitter lemon taste mixing with the sweetness from his pre-cum. She wanted to swallow him whole, take more of him down. Soobin couldn't even think anymore, Angel's mouth trying to work further down, her hand stopping right at his base. Angel hollows her cheeks, sucking him down like its instinct, soobins groan taking over the silence and joining the soft wet noises. Soobins restraint breaks, overwhelmed by the way her mouth molds to his cock so perfectly, his mind working to imagine it's her waiting cunt. She takes him down so deep he can feel the back of her throat. It's enough for him to wrap his hands into her hair, fingers wrapping softly around her skull as he fucks into her mouth without warning. Angel moans, the vibrations going straight up his cock and making his balls clench. Her hands reach out for his thighs to keep herself steady, tears welling in her eyes, loving the newfound sensation.

Angel Cake doesn't know what to expect, lashes fluttering as he loses himself in the feel of her. It's a shock when his thrusts become erratic, his body trembling with a deep groan, sweet lemon cream spilling on her waiting tongue. Angel tries to swallow, unable because he keeps going, fucking his cum right into her still willing mouth, spurt after spurt following until he has to pull away. Angel gasps, sucking in gulps of air, mouth a mess of dripping lemon custard and saliva.

If she had thought the pre-cum had been addicting, she didn't know the effect the real deal would have on her. Blindly, she wiped the corner of her mouth, licking the cream she'd collected, humming as if she'd just taken a bite of the richest lemon bar. The sight and sound made soobin impossibly more obsessed with her, fingers going down her cheek, pulling her attention to his awestruck expression.

His head was clearing but it didn't stop the infection of her as it slipped well past his mind, into his bones, into his soul. He had heard about how easy it was to save a fruit tree if you cut away the rot fast enough; right at first sight. Angel cake had taken hold of every thorny branch on his tree and twisted herself in the sparse foliage, so deeply intertwined now that he wasn't sure there was ever a time when it would have been an easy snip to rid himself of this fever.

Angel Cake's face was a glistening mess of wetness when he squished her cheeks with one large hand, her pouting lips so kissable and pink. “Look at you,” a surrealistic sigh caught on the edge of his tone. He leaned down, needing a taste of the two of them, the perfect combination of bitter and sweet, angel's sugary spit mixed with his lemony custard making him powerless. And when he pulled away, letting go of angel's cheeks, he watched the way her lips stayed puffy, the illusion of dimples still there as her skin rose back, flushed a petal pink. “Did I do good?”

“You did perfect,” soobin brushes his nose along the bridge of hers, his eyes closing, breathing her in. He wanted to tear into her, squish his fingers into her, and memorize every little action that brought out a sound. But in his post orgasm clarity, he noticed exactly what he had done. He had tainted this perfect angel, filled her with more than just bad ideas but had fully gone in and let his uncontrollable emotions take over.

Even when Angel Cake had gotten home later that night, she couldn't stop licking her lips. She was lying in bed, wriggling in the sheets trying and failing to find a comfortable position let alone sleep. Her hand was stuck between her legs, on the verge of tears for nothing working to cave in a hunger that she was only now painfully aware of. She hated that she was alone, hated it more than she knew the feeling of his hands on her, knew that those long fingers would have been perfect to fix her problem as easily as she had fixed his.

The hunger triggered a compulsion within her similar to the one soobin experienced on his walk to Angel’s shop, her feet carrying her through the streets, half-dressed in her silky lace pajamas. The lemon drop moon cast its path down the cobblestone to Soobin’s front door. The cold unfelt against Angel's warm skin, and when soobin opened the door he could see the steam rising off of her heated body. The haze of it mixed with the backlight of the moon made her look like a true angel waiting right at his front step, outlined in the glow. She hasn't even come in shoes, her thick socks slouched around her ankles, her shorts pinched at her waist, and one tank top strap down her shoulder. He could see her pebbled nipples through the thin material, his lips pursing at the thought of wrapping around them. “Angel?”

He couldn't tell if this was one of his dreams, the kind that left him reaching out in a bed she never saw. “I think I need you now,” she couldn’t find it in herself to be embarrassed by the words, not when she had seen him in the same state, begging and just as needy. Soobin rushed to pull her inside, ready to get her wrapped up in something to keep her from freezing if that was possible for someone so warm. He hardly had the door closed when she was pulling him closer to her, wrapping her arms around his neck, tugging him into her space. She needed to have him in her mouth again and soobin knew he wasn't going to turn her away. His hands slid down her back, fingers digging into the soft skin, groaning into her sugar-sweet mouth, the sound catching in the back of her throat, and she swallowed it down greedily.

Angel didn't know what to do with her hands, her mind shutting off and following their natural way, slipping into his hair, the strands tangling between her fingers, his lemony sweet kisses taking over her mind as he slowly kissed her. But Angel was impatient, whining and rubbing her thighs together.

“What is it baby? Tell me,” he kissed down her jaw, intoxicated by the smell of her, so much stronger when she was so hot against him.

Angel reached down for one of his hands, guiding it like he had done for her, pushing his fingers until they slipped right against the silk of her shorts, “it's so achy,” she whimpered, “and all I can do is think about you,”

She was like a freshly wrapped gift left on the front step, the label perfectly signed with his name and his name alone. A sinful treat he couldn't wait to sink his teeth into. He dragged his fingers along the seam of her, the silk already spotted with wetness, “you want me to take care of you?” the husk of his voice was thick in her ear like syrup.

“Please- please,” her nods are erratic, hips rolling trying to keep him right against her tender clit. Her pathetic cry echoes in the living room when he pulls his hand away. But he doesn't keep his hands away for long, dragging her to his room, having her fall to his bed, right where he's wanted her. Her knees fall open, the heels of her feet digging into the mattress. She's a vision of her namesake, mewling when soobin hooks his fingers into her waistband and takes down her panties and shorts, sliding them down her legs and peeling her socks off, leaving her bottom half exposed.

Soobin is caught at the sight of her gleaming cunt, leaking arousal the color of royal icing, creamy and sweet, looking as if she had been stuffed full of him already. Nothing could keep him from getting a taste. He fell to his knees like this was a place to beg for forgiveness. But he wouldn't be sorry, not after he started his feast. Soobin licked a bold stripe up from her entrance to clit, groan ripped from him with only one drop of her. He wrapped his arms under her legs, holding her open and watching how his fingers dented her flesh, the plush of her spilling between fingers itching to stay there and mold her as his forever.

Angel let out a sharp gasp the second his mouth was attached to her aching center, thighs trying to snap shut around his head, held in place and forced open as she arched her back. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, her breathing only coming out when she slipped out moans. He was devouring her, licking her clean like he was enjoying the frosting before the cupcake, sucking deeply on her clit just to watch her tremble.

Soobin does not care about the mess he's making of her, face dripping with his Angel's cream, moans of delight vibrating against her puffy clit. He doesn’t even notice the way she's writhing beneath him, only that he's now faced with the most delicious meal he has ever had. Moaning into her, slurping up all that she has to offer trying to pull forth more of her sweet cream. And he didn't have to try hard, not when she needed him so bad already, the bubbling building in her lower belly so newfound and yet never before so intense. Angel cake feels like a balloon ready to pop, one deep long suck on her clit has her seeing stars, her orgasm washing over her as swiftly as a needle prick, causing her to come undone. The gush of her arousal keeps Soobin’s mouth right against her, his persistent licks only pulling him in more.

He was a desperate mess, working away at his pants, rutting into the mattress as if that would curb his insatiable hunger. He needed to be inside of her, filling her up with his lemon custard, fucking her senseless until she was begging to stay right here in his bed and never leave. He wanted that, to keep her as his, not just press his hand into her thigh and leave that lasting mark. No, he needed to claim her as his in the best, most lasting way. “Do you want me inside you Angel?” he pressed the flat of his palm into her pelvis, relishing in the way he felt himself sinking into her skin. “Right here, filling you up, making you mine-”

Angel had never felt so empty, not until he pointed it out, solving a problem she never thought she had. Her mewling response was a mix of pleas and whimpers. She didn't care what he did so long as she could have him near, and if he could fix the burn in her belly he could devour her just as well as tear her apart.

Soobin lifted Angel's legs enough so that the backs of her knees were slotted against his inner elbows, one hand reaching down to guide his dripping cock to her waiting entrance. Angel does not expect the pressure of being pushed into, her gasp caught on a half-open mouth of pure bliss. Every slow tantalizing inch stretches her out, her body instinctively clenching around him trying to suck him in. “Relax, baby,” he whispers, his hand sliding up her stomach, up under her tank top to reveal her breasts. He rubs at her skin, soothing her tense muscles until he's sunk all the way into the hilt, her body melting and molding around his.

Soobin waits, catching himself from letting go, letting their bodies adjust to each other. But Angel is impatient, rolling her hips, not even realizing she's trying to fuck back onto him, only that she needs some kind of friction. But soobin is slow to pull out and even slower to push back in, eyes connected to the spot they meet at. Her body was like clay beneath him, so easily shaped into the perfect temptation. Every drag in and out coated his cock in her cream, mesmerizing him, numbing his brain.

Angel could tell the difference in him, that split second that makes his eyes go hazy, hips snapping into hers making her body ripple from the force. “you were fucking made for me- do you feel how deep I am-“ he’s slamming into her, the lude sounds of their wetness mixing; echoing with their moans. All the veins in his hands straining from the hold on her soft sides.

He was pressed so deep into her she could feel him hitting a spot that made her hips sink, her hands reaching out to hold his hands, needing the comfort not knowing what was building inside her. so much more intense than when it’s her fingers or even just his mouth. “soobin im-im-“ she can’t even find the words looking for something that she didn’t know existed until just now.

“we can cum together- I’ll fill you up make sure to pump you full so you know exactly where I'm going to put our baby,” he moves his hand down to press his thumb to her clit, triggering her to jolt, the walls of her pulsing around him before she’s falling apart.

Angel's body is a tightening mess, her back arching, cheeks flushing as she comes undone for him. The pull of her body to his makes him shudder, his whole body falling against hers needing to be close, needing to smell the vanilla sweetness of her skin, sinking his teeth into her shoulder as he holds back his strangled moans. Slow languid thrusts push his lemon custard cum back into her, needing to make true to his promise to have her full of him and only him. Needing to mix together their cream for the perfect bake.

Neither of them knows what's happened to them, only that they are a tangle of limbs, wrapped up tight enough that Angel can still feel the pulse of his cock deep inside her, still pumping into her never having cum so much in his life before then.

Angel feels boneless when he pulls away, her whimper making him chuckle. “I just need to see your creamy pussy again,” the sight to behold better than before now that he knows the wetness is more his than hers. His fingers dragged through her sensitive cunt, collecting the mess to shove it back Into her, fucking her on his fingers for a second. He lifts his fingers in front of them showing Angel the sheer amount of cream coating the digits. “If I could bottle this flavor I would,” he licks them clean before leaning over to shove his tongue into her mouth, needing her to taste what he’s found as his new obsession.

Angel swallows down the cum, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, twisting legs and burrowing in closer. “you taste sweeter than I thought you would,”

“Did the thought of it keep you up?” he asks, nose brushing along the column of angel's throat. “because thinking of you while being alone in this bed is hell, I need both of my girls under my roof to feel complete,”

“both…” the sound of the word was heavy in her mouth. Not in an uncomfortable way but in a way a piece of chocolate sat on her tongue, melting and sweet, craving to place another one as soon as it was gone.

“Both.” The finality of the word is better than the buttery sheets he’s pressing her right back Into.

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @no1likemybbgcharlie @chasingthatjjunie want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask! thank you so much @izzyy-stuff for helping edit this for me ily ily ily @thetxtdevil and @beomiracles for betareading this a bit, but special special thank you for mae who gave me a lot of these ideas in the first place, her perfect mind came up with the cake like reader with indenting skin and helped with the conversation with strawberry and angel <3

[twinkling-moonlillie]

Lip Gloss (Lucifer x Reader Drabble)

A/N: I was inspired to write this based on this Hello Kitty apple flavored lip gloss that I saw yesterday. I was tempted to buy it lol. Also I'm just getting back into writing, so it may be a bit choppy teehee

Warnings: Slightly sexual, the use of the word apple way too many times...Lucifer may be a little ooc?

If there was one thing that Lucifer loved, it was ducks. But if there was a second thing that Lucifer absolutely adored, it would be apples. Since you have known Lucifer, he has always been obsessed with integrating apples in your daily lives. From his coat that he wears everyday down to the small engravings in the wood framing of your shared bed, apples were everywhere. All of his favorite foods consisted of some type of apple, whether it be apple fritters or apple pie. He had apple themed pajamas, apple themed silverware, apple themed pillows even. The man was completely obsessed. 

So that’s why you should not have been surprised with your current situation. Pressed up against the wall with hands pinned above your head, you were face to face with Lucifer. His pupils resembled a solar eclipse, strands of his platinum blond hair sticking up wildly. 

Both of you guys were supposed to have met with Charlie and Vaggie for a nice dinner at Ozzie’s thirty minutes ago. While getting ready you had complimented your look with a new apple flavored lip gloss that you had gotten out of amusement a few days prior. With as affectionate Lucifer was, you knew that he would like the new addition, but you were unaware of how feral it would make him. 

Just as you were heading out, Lucifer brought you in for a sweet kiss; it was something he did on autopilot, a small display of his endless love; however, once his lips tasted the crisp apple flavor, he almost melted. 

Thus, your wall predicament. 

“Your lips taste like apples…” Lucifer mumbled, his voice making the statement almost sound like a question. His gaze was focused on your now smudged lips. 

“I-I, well…I bought it f-from that new store and it was cute, and I know how much you love apples b-but I didn’t think…” Your stuttering trailed off as a smirk stretched across his porcelain skin, his tongue peaking through and wiping away the remnants of the gloss on his lips.

You tried to look away from the sinful eroticism on display, face completely flushed. “Shouldn’t we, um, go? We’re already-” 

But before you could finish your thought, Lucifer had pressed his lips to yours. The grip he had over your hands tightened as he nibbled your bottom lip, the apple flavored gloss long lost.

You were fully consumed, bodies ablaze as you leaned in impossibly close to him. While Lucifer had a long list of talents and skills, his ability to make you feel alive despite your dwindling breath, to erase the past and future and tethering you distinctly to the present, had to be one of his greatest. It was just you. It was just him. 

A small whimper escaped his throat as your hands escaped from his grasp, finding purchase in his hair. His hands shakily roamed your body, leaving a trail of electricity that caused a kaleidoscope of butterflies to flutter in your lower regions. 

As Lucifer pulled away - eyes dilated and jacket crinkled - he looked dazed, the same way he appeared in the early mornings. The smirk that was thickly painted on his face was replaced with a goofy smile. 

How dare this man steal your breath away and look so innocent afterwards? 

“Oh golly, we're going to be late! We needed to be there 40 minutes ago!” Lucifer exclaimed as he looked at his wrist. 

You patted yourself down, trying to smooth down your hair and fix your also wrinkled clothes. “It’s almost as if I tried telling you that 10 minutes ago” You teased. 

Lucifer laughed as he lightly reached for your hand. “Well, I mean, did you really expect me to contain myself when your lips tasted that good?” 

[betterbooktitles]

"I’m certain I’m not the only millennial who feels we as a nation have taken a dizzying turn when it comes to drugs. I remember a uniformed police officer showing up once a week in 5th Grade (a year before Sex Ed) to explain how to avoid buying and taking drugs. Luckily, I already knew the dangers of the drug trade because I had seen The Usual Suspects. I knew cocaine was a bad thing to buy, sell, or steal, especially from a drug kingpin. The D.A.R.E. program, however, let me know how important it was to say no to anything fun, including alcohol. At least until I understood a little algebra first. We did role-playing exercises where we walked one by one toward the portly police officer and he casually asked if we wanted to hit a mimed joint with him. All we had to do was say “no” and walk to the other side of the room, defying the only rule I knew about improv. We wrote essays about how important it was to preserve our pristine bodies and minds, obviously unsullied since we had yet to take the class teaching us how puberty was going to defile them both. I’m still mad that my friend Nicole’s essay beat mine in a contest, and she got to read hers in front of the whole school all because she had the benefit of an older brother who took too much acid and sat in her room all night talking about why the existence of light proved God was real. My essay about a time I saw my friend’s dad drink a beer and then drive his truck somewhere was also good! We signed pledges to enter the new millennium drug-free. We took the red pencils that said “Friends Don’t Let Friends Do Drugs” and sharpened all of them down to say “Let Friends Do Drugs,” “Friends Do Drugs,” “Do Drugs,” and simply “Drugs.” Despite that little rebellious act, my friends and I spent a solid six months swearing we’d never put any harmful substance into our bodies besides every form of candy available.

Imagine how I feel now as a D.A.R.E. graduate becoming my dad’s drug dealer. It’s less thrilling than I thought it would be. Between my father’s warning not to hang around one specific neighborhood in Cleveland as a kid and nearly every TV show about drugs, I thought I’d always be buying marijuana from an intimidating dude who definitely had a gun and would use it immediately if he thought I was wearing a wire. Instead, I now buy marijuana from a well-lit storefront that looks like the Apple Store. I’ve even gone to a place where a guy with an iPad explained what each available strain would do to me. I buy what sounds good with all the confidence of a man pointing at items on a menu written in a language he can’t read. I put it all in a cardboard box. I place a book on top. I mail the box to my dad from my local post office. I tell myself the book is to hide the contraband crossing state lines, but in truth, the book is what clears my conscience. I want to send my dad something edifying while also sending him the drug that all of America worried would make me unable to read if I tried it once. The unrequested book is a red herring to distract from the vice, like when you were young and didn’t want to buy condoms outright at the store so you cushioned them between a pack of peanut M&Ms and a magazine. Hmm, what else did I need, — right, while I’m here — might as well pick up a few condoms.

Right as marijuana becomes legal in most states, I’m about done with the drug. I’ve had three good times on edibles, and one of them was when I felt nothing and fell asleep at 9:30 PM. I’m flabbergasted that my dad likes edibles. He seems to be a man free of anxiety. Case in point, I once brought him some THC lozenges to our summer holiday in Chautauqua, and around dinner time I told him “You might want to only take half of what I gave you” to which he replied, “I took it hours ago.” He was stoned and no one noticed.

While I’m stuck in my head, stoned or sober, wondering why I didn’t take some acting gig 15 years ago, wondering if I’ll ever make enough money, worrying I’m doing everything wrong including in this moment as I write this sentence, my dad is enjoying himself.

Judith Grisel, the author of Never Enough: The Neuroscience And Experience of Addiction, describes using marijuana as throwing “a bucket of red paint” on your brain. She was approaching the stimulant clinically in terms of how it differed from the laser focus of other drugs (THC reacts with many receptors in the brain, cocaine focuses on one), but now every time I smoke, I think of the red paint metaphor. While other people seem able to crank an entire joint and do insanely complicated stuff like function at their jobs, I am reduced to a gelatinous blob, on top of which my eyes and brain are navigating a dream state that, like many dreams, isn’t all that interesting the next day. Mostly, I get high and can’t decide what I want to watch on TV or what video game I want to play, I realize how hungry I am, and then I fall asleep with cereal still stuck to my teeth. Pot, for me, is like the squid ink hitting the screen in Mario Kart: I can still see where I’m going, but everything gets a little harder to do, and the panicked half-blindness makes everything slightly more chaotically fun."

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Other articles include:

An essay on Claire Dederer's book Monsters and movies made by monsters.

Writing inside a Toyota Service Center.

Writing mistresses.

[inkspiredwriting]

A Day with Uncle Klaus

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I hope you forgive me that this little story is more about Maddie and her uncle Klaus. Can you imagine how sweet Klaus would be to his little niece?

Warnings: None

Maddie Hargreeves, the six-year-old daughter of Five and Y/N, was a bundle of energy. She had inherited her father's curiosity and her mother's kindness, but she also had a unique gift of her own: the ability to make things float. Today, she was set to spend the day with her favorite uncle, Klaus, known for his mischievous charm and penchant for chaos.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Y/N asked, her eyes filled with a mix of amusement and concern.

Klaus waved a dismissive hand. "Please, I've dealt with spirits, apocalypses, and your husband. How much trouble can one little girl with telekinesis be?"

Y/N chuckled, giving Maddie a kiss on the forehead. "Have fun, sweetie. And listen to Uncle Klaus, okay?"

Maddie nodded eagerly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Okay, Mommy!"

As they set off, Klaus and Maddie walked hand in hand, ready for their adventure.

Their first stop was the local market. Klaus thought it would be fun to show Maddie around the bustling stalls, filled with vibrant colors and delicious smells. As they wandered through the market, Maddie's eyes grew wide with wonder.

"Can I make things float, Uncle Klaus?" she asked, her small hand tugging at his sleeve.

Klaus grinned. "Of course, just be careful not to cause too much of a scene."

Maddie nodded, concentrating hard on a bunch of apples at a nearby stall. Slowly, they began to rise into the air, floating gently above the vendor's head.

The vendor looked up, eyes wide. "What in the world?"

Klaus quickly stepped in, snatching the apples from the air and placing them back on the stall. "Sorry about that! Just a little magic trick."

The vendor, still bewildered, shook his head but eventually laughed it off. Klaus winked at Maddie, who giggled.

Next, they headed to a nearby park, where Klaus had brought along a kite. As they found a clear spot, Klaus handed the kite to Maddie. "Want to see if you can make this fly without any wind?"

Maddie nodded eagerly, gripping the kite string tightly. She focused, and the kite began to lift off the ground, soaring high into the sky.

"Look, Uncle Klaus! It's flying!" Maddie exclaimed, jumping up and down with excitement.

Klaus laughed, clapping his hands. "That's amazing, Maddie! You're a natural."

They spent the next hour making various objects float around the park, much to the amazement of passersby. A couple of ducks quacked in confusion as they found themselves hovering a few inches above the pond, and a group of kids cheered when their soccer ball started floating in mid-air.

As the afternoon wore on, Klaus decided it was time for a treat. They went to an ice cream parlor, where Maddie insisted on trying the most colorful flavor available. They sat outside, enjoying their ice cream and watching the world go by.

"Uncle Klaus, do you think Daddy can make things float too?" Maddie asked between licks of her cone.

Klaus chuckled. "No, your daddy has other cool powers. But you're special, Maddie. You've got a gift."

Maddie beamed, her face covered in ice cream. "I like my gift. It's fun."

Their final stop was a little craft store where Klaus had promised Maddie she could pick out something special. Maddie chose a set of colorful beads and strings to make bracelets. As they paid and left the store, Maddie couldn't resist making the beads float in a sparkling, swirling dance above their heads.

People around them gasped and pointed, but Maddie just giggled, enjoying the spectacle she was creating.

"You're causing quite a stir, Maddie," Klaus said, grinning. "Let's get home before we end up on the news."

When they finally returned home, Y/N and Five were waiting, curious to hear about their day.

"Did you have fun?" Y/N asked, pulling Maddie into a hug.

Maddie nodded vigorously. "It was the best day ever! We made apples float, flew a kite without wind, and even made ducks hover!"

Five raised an eyebrow at Klaus. "Ducks?"

Klaus shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hey, it was all in good fun."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Thank you, Klaus. It sounds like you both had a wonderful day."

Maddie yawned, her energy finally waning. "Can we do it again, Uncle Klaus?"

Klaus smiled, giving her a gentle hug and a kiss on the forehead. "Anytime, kiddo. Anytime."

As Maddie was tucked into bed, her eyes already closing, Five and Y/N looked at each other and smiled.

"She had a great day," Y/N said softly.

Five nodded, wrapping an arm around her. "Yeah, she did. Thanks to Uncle Klaus."

In the living room, Klaus settled onto the couch with a contented sigh. He might have been the family wild card, but today, he felt like a hero in his niece's eyes. And that was more than enough.

[fen-luciel]

To bite one's tongue

Warnings: blow job/forced submission/verbal humiliation

Summary:Furious about Mae's promotion to acolyte, you vent to Qimir about your master's questionable choices.

In hindsight, it was better not to joke about it.

-----Support me on ao3=Here-----

I don't like romantic stories-

I watched Mae leave the store, the poison in her hand as she didn’t even say goodbye.

I remained silent for a few seconds, staring at the entrance before slowly turning toward Qimir, who pressed his lips together before returning my gaze.

"Charming, the acolyte" I said, obvious disdain in my tone. He rolled his eyes while grabbing two more glasses "I know you don't like her. But acting as a team is best for everyone and pleases the master" he poured some of the liquor left from the previous evening into the glass before handing one to me.

I grabbed it before downing it in one gulp.

"The master has gone mad. I can't believe he replaced me with that little girl"

I slammed the glass on the table, irritated, causing Qimir to flinch beside me "Don't talk like that. The master knows what he's doing, it's all part of the plan, and—" he started stammering, but I pounded the table, got closer to him menacingly, technically, Qimir was taller than me, but he was always slouched or drooping, giving me a few centimeters that I used every time to tower over him "Stop with this nonsense. I've followed him for years without asking questions, obeying every rule, then that spoiled brat shows up and takes my place"

Qimir nervously handed me his glass, which I grabbed without breaking eye contact, downing that shot as well without flinching.

"We only need to show her his face and that would be the last straw, "At that point, he really had me completely fooled" I turned, kicking the chair in front of me. It bounced off the wall with a crash, and there was another flinch behind me.

"You know he'd never—" he tried to calm me once more, a hand on my shoulder, but I snapped, turning to grab his wrist and slam it against the wall. I didn't miss how he held back from grabbing me in return, his reflexes still terrifyingly quick.

"You always talk as if you've known him forever" I brought my face close to his, our noses brushing as Qimir shifted uncomfortably against the wall. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know you know more than you say" I slowly put my hand around his neck, my thumb pressing against his protruding Adam's apple.

"Tell me, Qimir. What did you do to earn his trust like this?" I whispered against his lips. "Could it be that he finds you so useful just because of some smuggling and poisons?"

I could see his gaze harden slightly, but he remained silent. It was absurd how that day just seemed to get worse, even Qimir was pissing me off.

I had always had a strange suspicion about him, reflexes too well-trained, the relationship so close with the master, I knew he was hiding something, but I was missing a piece.

"Tell me the truth. What did you do for him?" an ironic smile tugged at my lips as I tightened my fingers slightly around his neck. "You spend a lot of time with him, after all. Neither Mae nor I have entered his refuge, but you..."

He looked at me frowning, breath short as he kept staring at me with those deep dark eyes. "What are you insinuating?" he responded in an unusually firm voice.

In return, I squeezed my fingers even more, the irony dripping from every word "That maybe... you please our master in more than one way—"

Qimir jerked away, shoving me hard enough to make me bump into the counter behind me, but I chuckled.

"Come on, there's nothing wrong with that. He's certainly a fascinating figure, and you always seem so relaxed, it all adds up, right?" I spread my arms theatrically, raising an eyebrow to emphasize the point. "You don't even have to tell me, just let me see your knees—"

Qimir stormed off, not even glancing at me as he headed toward the back of the store "You have a mission, do it."

I shrugged, knowing I had irritated him enough for one day. In return, I felt much lighter after teasing him, so I grabbed my bag and left, the thought of my master shelved for another moment.

---

We landed on Khofar without problems. Mae stepped out with her shoulder bag to take a look outside while I finished shutting down the engines.

"Hey, you have something to do" Qimir said out of nowhere, appearing from the ship's corridor. I turned, raising an eyebrow at him.

Since I teased him the other day, he'd been sulking the whole time, not to mention the mess Mae made with the Jedi and the miraculously alive sister.

I would have liked to joke about how he got tricked too, but he wasn't exactly in the mood, and given how quickly things were deteriorating, I wanted to at least follow one of Qimir's pieces of advice to stick together.

"I thought I was supposed to keep the ship ready for escape—" I began, but Qimir held an holo map in front of my eyes, turning it on to show a scaled-down version of the forest, a path illuminated in yellow at the center.

"You need to go here. To Kelnacca" I looked at the small red light blinking at one end of the line "Wait, what do you mean? Am I supposed to wait for you there? Is it to help you with the Jedi?" I got up, taking the map from him, but he shook his head "I'll take a different path with Mae, a longer one, while you'll follow this one I've marked. You'll reach the Wookiee's refuge before us and kill him"

I stopped and looked at him completely confused.

"Wait. I thought she was supposed to do that. What's going on?" I turned off the map and tucked it into my pants pocket.

"Mae has failed enough. We'll handle this the old-fashioned way. And you can take the opportunity to show your skills to the master" we exchanged a knowing look.

I understood the hint.

We were going to get rid of her.

I nodded before clearing my throat.

"Any other information from the master I should know?" I looked at him as he slung his bag over his shoulder and nervously pushed his hair behind his ears "No. Just kill him. It doesn't matter how. He's a Wookiee, use your imagination, you've never lacked it" he walked toward the exit with me following, stifling a laugh as I caught the jab he had clearly thrown at me regarding the other day. I stopped at the door just as Mae was coming back toward us, Qimir went to meet her.

"Then I'll wait for you here. Don't keep me waiting too long" I said casually, crossing my arms under my chest.

Mae made one of her usual faces before walking beside Qimir, who glanced at me over his shoulder, and I nodded to him.

I waited a few minutes before starting to walk into the dense forest.

---

I didn't have much trouble killing the ex Jedi.

One of my best abilities was hiding my signature and presence with the help of the dark side. I slipped into his house through the open window, he had his back to me when, with a quick move, I called his lightsaber to me from where it was resting on the shelf. He turned surprised to face me, but in less than a second, I activated the weapon and with a single strike, killed him, making him stagger back and fall onto the chair behind him.

I left the lightsaber on the ground before leaving knowing they weren't far away, but I needed to ensure everything went well. Mae was better off dead than captured by the Jedi, and although I trusted Qimir's reflexes, he was still just a foolish.

I decided to hide among the tree branches, my presence even better concealed in the early evening light.

I didn't have to wait long before Mae showed up... alone.

I cursed her silently, had Qimir tried to attack her and failed? Had she killed him?

The mere thought twisted my stomach, I liked teasing him, sure, but I genuinely felt a sincere friendship toward him, after all I'd known him for a few years by now.

I watched her enter the house quickly while that creature fled into the forest. I moved to follow her, but then I heard them.

The Jedi.

Fortunately, they were too focused on Mae to look around, and the darkness played more and more to my advantage every second. I still had some knives up my sleeves I could take advantage of the confusion of the fight to kill her and then slip away to search for Qimir.

If I found him dead, I would at least give him a proper burial.

Just as this thought crossed my mind, a cold shiver ran down my spine.

I looked up sharply into the dense forest and saw him.

The master.

It was a matter of a moment, the shockwave he unleashed reached me too, and I had to cling tightly to the tree bark, the Jedi scattered like ants in panic beneath me.

I thought of Mae hiding in the house, but I ignored her, even if she had the map I would have the advantage of the shorter path over her, and I could attack her at the ship if she attempted to flee.

I followed the trail of the fight below me, jumping nimbly from branch to branch. I wanted to help, but clearly the master didn’t need me.

When Osha shot him with the blaster, I tensed for a second but he seemed unfazed. He began to chase her and I was just a little behind him. However, the trees were starting to thin out, and just as I decided to descend, the master stopped a few meters from me and turned in my direction, his gaze fixed upward to where I was perched.

I froze like an animal caught in headlights, the intensity of his gaze even though it was hidden by the mask was suffocating.

In a slow movement, he brought his finger in front of his face, signaling me to stay silent, hidden. I swallowed nervously and nodded.

I ignored the shiver of fear or the fact that he probably knew where I was all along. I wanted to tell him about Qimir, but it wasn't the right moment.

I climbed higher, waiting obediently for his signal. I didn't make a sound when I saw him clash with the Jedi, nor did I intervene when he started chasing Mae. I knew he could easily kill her, he was toying with her before delivering the final blow.

I didn't like that Sol at all, and together with that padawan, they indeed proved to be a challenge even for the master. I took a knife in my hand, ready to move if needed, when my breath caught in my throat.

The mask fell to the ground with a thud as the girl was stabbed three times by the red lightsaber.

The master's lightsaber.

Qimir's lightsaber.

A white noise filled my ears as I pieced everything together.

I finally understood why I couldn’t find the key to decipher it, there wasn’t a missing piece, I just had to connect what was already there.

It was all in front of my eyes.

I continued to watch the scene until I saw those insects latch onto Qimir, who struggled in the air before being carried away. At that moment, I followed him through the trees, distancing myself from the Jedi before intervening to help him.

He threw me his lightsaber as soon as we were at a safe distance. I jumped onto the insects, starting to cut them in half to free him from the bulk of them. Finally with the help of the Force, he freed himself from the last creatures.

I touched the ground, the dawn’s light illuminating us as I looked at Qimir uncertainly.

"Qimir— I mean, Master... I thought... when I didn’t see you return with Mae—"

He turned to me with a terrifying look. I had seen the kind of personality he showed when his face was uncovered and the one he used with the mask, but now that I knew the truth, I couldn’t reconcile the two extremes.

"It's too late to get her now. But we can deal with the sister"

He gestured towards Osha’s body lying a few meters away from us.

I took a few hesitant steps towards him, the unease twisting my stomach as the memory of that afternoon shook me "Qim— Master. I just wanted to... apologize for the other day—"

Suddenly, a grip around my neck cut off my airways, pulling me into his hands, his fingers pressing against the skin of my neck.

"You're right. We need to clear up the misunderstanding that has arisen"

I was forcefully shoved to the ground, my knees hitting hard from the impact.

Instinctively, I put my hands around his wrist trying to free myself, but his grip was like steel. The muscles in his arms were tensed and gleaming under the morning light as my breath shortened.

"Please, forgive me for my insolence" I whispered with half-closed eyes, my voice choked and my heart pounding wildly.

The smile he gave me almost made me vomit from fear.

"No. You were right. I’ve neglected you. And yet you’ve always been so obedient to me..." with his free hand, he caressed my cheek and then my lower lip, his dark figure blocking the view of the dawn's rays.

"I’ve put you in the background. And yet Mae has been nothing but a disappointment" He smiled again, sweetly, yet there was nothing kind in his gaze.

"You deserve a reward. You’ve seen my face without any favor" His tone was ironic as my chest burned, struggling to get air into my lungs. My fingers trembled as I tried to grasp the hand tightly clenched on my skin, causing painful pressure, I knew he would leave bruises if I survived.

"You deserve a greater reward for being such a good student" Suddenly, he let me go with a slight push backward. I gasped uncomfortably coughing in big gulps of air, my eyes burning. I rubbed my neck uneasily, and when I turned towards him, I saw just in time his hand grabbing my hair forcefully. A hiss escaped through my teeth, but I tried to maintain some composure not knowing what would make him angrier. His fist was so tight on my scalp that I feared he would tear the hair from my forehead.

"Open my pants" he said in a rough voice, moving a few centimeters closer. I looked at him in shock, my lips trembling, hoping I had misunderstood his words.

"Master... please—"

A slap hit me squarely in the face, stunning me, the ringing in my ear drowning out any surrounding sounds.

I made a small, surprised noise, my breath caught in my throat, but his grip on my hair kept me in place.

"You only speak when I command you. Do you understand?" he roared. I nodded as much as I could in response, the sensation of burning and dull pain on my cheek "Open my pants, acolyte"

I took a trembling breath as I began to untie his pants, not daring to look up, so I just stared at his dark underwear.

The loose fabric had fallen around his ankles.

"Come on. Pull it down" he ordered. I bit my lip before moving closer on my knees, almost flinching at the sensation of my fingers brushing the smooth skin of his sculpted abs. I slowly pulled down the fabric, exposing his semi-erect penis.

I blushed at the sight. The truth was, I knew nothing about sex. I liked to use it as a topic to make others uncomfortable, with blunt jokes or derogatory insults, but I had barely kissed a man in my life. This was the first penis I had seen in person.

He took his erection with his free hand and began to stroke himself slowly in front of my trembling eyes, the discomfort growing every second. But that dark red tip was the only thing in focus in my field of vision, drawing me in like a moth to a flame, the whisper of the dark side surrounding us "Look at you. You’re almost drooling. You were born with this desperate craving for cocks"

I bit my lip in shame, the words choked at the back of my throat as I focused on other things, like the throbbing of my bruised cheek or the scratching of my sore throat.

"Come on. Lick it." The erection had swelled and hardened in front of my eyes, the tip stopping less than an inch from my mouth. I trembled slightly, the pressure of his gaze and the veiled threat dripping from each syllable he spoke were enough to make me act without complaining.

I exhaled through my nose helplessly as I stuck out my tongue to give a small lick to the warm flesh "Good girl, just like that, slowly" he held my head steady, the cock barely touching my lips, forcing me to extend my tongue to reach it.

He brought my head close enough for me to lick the red tip with the full length of my tongue, the salty, sweet taste flooding my taste buds. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or if I was doing it right, but he didn’t seem displeased.

"You like it, don’t you? On your knees for your master. The honor of licking my dick, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?" It was instinctive to think to say no, but I didn’t have the courage to speak, much less look him in the eyes. Instead, I focused on wetting his cock hoping to make him less angry.

Meanwhile, Qimir stepped closer, allowing me more access to the taut flesh, shifting his hand to only hold the base to position it better near my face.

"Keep going, slut" The insult gave me chills, whether from the harshness of his tone or because the weaker part of me found it exciting, I continued to caress the length from base to tip with my tongue, trying to reach every angle I could, sucking the thin, warm, pulsating flesh, the protruding veins, the color... and the smell.

I felt my head fog up, my hands were free I could at least try to rebel, but I kept my arms relaxed by my sides as I let myself be used like a doll. Maybe I actually liked it. Maybe I was truly a slut.

"And now take it in your mouth" He moved it down again, pointing it straight at my lips.

I exhaled through my slightly parted lips, still too uncomfortable to look at him in the face. At that moment, I knew I would never have the courage to rebel. He moved the taut flesh around my lips and then, in a clear derogatory gesture, slapped it lightly against the cheek that had burned so much earlier.

What burned the most was that I could feel something wet forming between my legs.

I stuck out my tongue again and finally rested the tip on my flesh enough to close my lips around it. I began to suck, occasionally moving my tongue to envelop it, hoping I was doing it right. Qimir above me groaned slowly as he moved his hips imperceptibly.

"I knew you were a natural bitch. I should have trained you to take my cock from day one" He pushed my head further forward, at least half of his dick was in my mouth. My jaw hurt, but I dared not make a sound. He used his grip on my hair to fuck my mouth, a stream of saliva falling down my chin. I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from touching myself. I was already in enough trouble, I didn’t want to give him more reasons to torture me.

He continued like this for a while, at a torturously slow pace, then, stepping forward, he shoved the full length down my throat. I moaned in panic as my breathing was obstructed, my nose pressed into his dark pubic hair, choking noises escaping as I struggled not to cough, the burning in my throat worsening the situation.

"Take it like a good slut. Look at you, clutching your legs in heat while sucking your master’s dick." some tears fell from my eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was from the undeniable excitement dripping from my core or the shame of being used like this by Qimir.

"I should keep you like this forever, with your mouth ready to warm my dick" He began to thrust deeply into my throat, pulling out until only the tip touched my tongue, and then pushing back in to the base, firm and resolute.

"Beg for it, slut. Submit to the pleasure I give you in body and mind" His thrusts grew faster, with streams of saliva connecting his cock to my mouth.

"When we get home, I’ll break you until the only thing you can think about is my load filling you every day"

Suddenly, he stopped with the tip brushing my swollen lips "Say it" he ordered.

I hadn’t even realized I was crying profusely by this point, too focused on taking his dick in my throat without choking. But now I felt it, the wetness between my legs, the itch in my stomach, and the racing heart. I stared at that swollen tip like a starving woman.

I... I wanted it.

"Please, Master, fill me with your cum" I finally looked him in the eyes and almost lost myself in those languid, pleasure-filled pools.

I wondered what I must look like from his position. Held by the hair while I prostrated myself submissively to his will, eyes swollen with silent tears, my cheek red and sore, maybe with the mark of his hand on it and trembling lips.

"I will be your good slut forever, I will never dare to insult you again. Please, fill me with your cum" I parted my lips wider and stuck out my tongue to emphasize my words.

He, on the other hand, smiled.

"Good girl"

He returned to touching himself, his erection tensed in his fist as he grunted more and more "Swallow it all, slut" he whispered hoarsely. He made a strangled noise, and the first thick spray hit my face in a hot jet. He shoved it back into my throat with force, his hips moving quickly while his iron grip kept my head still. Thick ropes of cum were forced to the back of my throat. I moaned, feeling the warmth reach the pit of my stomach. I didn’t even realize how my hips were trembling as an orgasm hit me dry.

By now, whatever little dignity I had left was shattered as I moaned around his cock, my eyes closed while my brain stopped functioning and remained silent, a victim of the explosive sensation of the orgasm.

Qimir pulled out one last time to release the remnants on my mouth and tongue, and finally let go of my hair, allowing me to collapse to the ground.

I lay still with trembling limbs, my brain trying to process the events of the past few hours.

Qimir adjusted his clothes and walked towards Osha, who had remained unconscious a few meters away.

"Get up. We're going home. You still have much to learn" he picked her up in his arms and walked away without waiting for me.

I took a few seconds to catch my breath, humiliation embedded in my bones, the sweet, thick taste on my tongue as I spoke with a broken voice.

"Yes Master"

[atimeofyourlife]

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles warm up round: bakery au rated: t | wc: 840 | cw: none | tags: pre-steddie Eddie never got involved in the upside down, he and Steve meet again a few years later in a bakery in Chicago

The bakery was Steve's pride and joy. It was something that he had accomplished and built up by himself, without the input from his parents. No financial assistance from them, no help in learning how to manage a business. It had been a lot of trial and error, and incredible support from his friends, but he had succeeded. He'd brought the small unit in Chicago using most of the hush money payment over the Upside Down. It needed a lot of work doing to it before he was ready to open it, but once it was open it just took off. Constantly selling out of most of the bakes by lunchtime each day, having to take on extra staff to keep up with demand.

After nearly two years, he had a number of very loyal regulars, the ones who would come in at the same times and same days each week, always ordering the same things. The local workers that would always come in before work or on a morning break for a sweet treat everyday. The older couples that would come in twice a week, once for a dessert for their weekly date nights, and once for treats for their grandchildren. The college students that were adamant that Steve's pastries were infinitely better than the ones they could get on campus.

But the newest regular, one his staff had nicknamed 'Mr Metal,' Steve had yet to meet. From the name, Steve assumed that he worked in the new record store that had opened across the street, but the man always managed to be in and out while Steve was still working in the kitchen, setting up the next batch for the oven or decorating what had just finished cooling.

One Friday morning, he was carrying out the boxes ready to restock the counter, when he heard the voice of Zara, one of the cashiers.

"Uh, I'm not sure. Give me a minute, I'll just have to ask the boss."

"Ask me what?" Steve asked as he rounded the counter, the stack of boxes obscuring most of his vision.

"Please tell me that those boxes have lemon cream cheese pastries and apple pie cookies in them." She replied, sounding a little stressed.

"Yeah, lemon are in the top box, apple in the bottom." Steve replied as he put the boxes down on the side, and started unstacking them. He glanced up at the customer, a vaguely familiar, handsome man, and from the long hair, piercings, and the Black Sabbath t-shirt, this had to be the Mr Metal that all the staff kept mentioning. "How many of each did you want?"

"Two of each." The man replied, staring hard at Steve.

"Uh huh." Steve worked quickly to box them up. "Are you aware of our Friday five for four offer? Five bakes for the price of four, so you could get another of your choice at no extra cost."

"I get them for me and my coworkers, theres four of us so I don't think we can split a fifth four ways without fighting over who gets what."

"I can always bag it separately, so you can slip it in your pocket. They don't have to know a thing about it." Steve offered with a wink.

"You drive a hard bargain, Harrington. I'll take another apple pie cookie."

"I-" Steve looked at the man, confused. Unsure how he knew his name. "Did you go to Hawkins, then? I'm sorry, I don't think I remember you."

"You got a table round here? I could climb up and start talking about jocks and conformity." He looked Steve up and down. "Though, you don't seem to conform to the jock image any more, big boy."

It took another moment, but the name hit Steve as he was bagging the extra cookie. "Munson. Used to buy weed off you."

"I don't know if I should be honored that the king remembers me, or wounded that it took so long."

Steve rolled his eyes at the dramatics, it reminding him even more of high school. "I don't remember most people now, too many concussions."

"Shit. But now you're boss of a bakery. How life changes."

"Yeah. It only took three serious concussions, two major disasters in Hawkins, and one disownment after getting caught behind The Hideout with Matty P. But then I realized that this is what I want to be doing."

"What were you doing behind The Hideout with Matty P? Smoking weed or something? I know you never hid about that."

"We had been smoking, but at that point my mouth was, uh, otherwise occupied." Steve admitted.

"Oh, shit." Eddie choked back a laugh, then looked at his watch. "I'd love to hear more about that, but I've got to get back to work."

Steve quickly wrote his number on the bag with the extra cookie, before handing it over. "Call me sometime, maybe we could spend some time together outside of work."

"You're on, Harrington." Eddie winked at Steve, before leaving the bakery.

im not the happiest with the end of this bc it was rushed after my brain turned to mush from migraines

[autolenaphilia]

Why enshittification happens and how to stop it.

The enshittification of the internet and increasingly the software we use to access it is driven by profit. It happens because corporations are machines for making profits from end users, the users and customers are only seen as sources of profits. Their interests are only considered if it can help the bottom line. It's capitalism.

For social media it's users are mainly seen by the companies that run the sites as a way for getting advertisers to pay money that can profit the shareholders. And social media is in a bit of death spiral right now, since they have seldom or never been profitable and investor money is drying up as they realize this.

So the social media companies. are getting more and more desperate for money. That's why they are getting more aggressive with getting you to watch ads or pay for the privilege of not watching ads. It won't work and tumblr and all the other sites will die eventually.

But it's not just social media companies, it's everything tech-related. It gets worse the more monopolistic a tech giant is. Google is abusing its chrome-based near monopoly over the web, nerfing adblockers, trying to drm the web, you name it. And Microsoft is famously a terrible company, spying on Windows users and selling their data. Again, there is so much money being poured into advertising, at least 493 billion globally, the tech giants want a slice of that massive pie. It's all about making profits for shareholders, people be damned.

And the only insurance against this death spiral is not being run by a corporation. If the software is being developed by a non-profit entity, and it's open source, there is no incentive for the developers to fuck over the users for the sake of profits for shareholders, because there aren't any profits, and no shareholders.

Free and Open source software is an important part of why such software development can stay non-corporate. It allows for volunteers to contribute to the code and makes it harder for users to be secretly be fucked over by hidden code.

Mozilla Firefox and Thunderbird are good examples of this. There is a Mozilla corporation, but it exists only for legal reasons and is a wholly-owned subsidiary of the non-profit Mozilla foundation. There are no shareholders. That means the Mozilla corporation is not really a corporation in the sense that Google is, and as an organization has entirely different incentives. If someone tells you that Mozilla is just another corporation, (which people have said in the notes of posts about firefox on this very site) they are spreading misinformation.

That's why Firefox has resisted the enshittification of the internet so well, it's not profit driven. And people who develop useful plugins that deshitify the web like Ublock origin and Xkit are as a rule not profit-driven corporations.

And you can go on with other examples of non-profit software like Libreoffice and VLC media player, both of which you should use.

And you can go further, use Linux as your computer's operating system.. It's the only way to resist the enshitification that the corporate duopoly of Microsoft and Apple has brought to their operating system. The plethora of community-run non-profit Linux distributions like Debian, Mint and Arch are the way to counteract that, and they will stay resistant to the same forces (creating profit for shareholders) that drove Microsoft to create Windows 11.

Of course not all Linux distributions are non-profits. There are corporate created distros like Red Hat's various distros, Canonical's Ubuntu and Suse's Opensuse, and they prove the point I'm making. There has some degree of enshittification going on with those, red hat going closed source and Canonical with the snap store for example. Mint is by now a succesful community-driven response to deshitify Ubuntu by removing snaps for example, and even they have a back-up plan to use Debian as a base in case Canonical makes Ubuntu unuseable.

As for social media, which I started with, I'm going to stay on tumblr for now, but it will definitely die. The closest thing to a community run non-profit replacement I can see is Mastodon, which I'm on as @autolenaphilia@chaosfem.tw.

You don't have to keep using corporate software, and have it inevitably decline because the corporations that develop it cares more about its profits than you as an end user.

The process of enshittification proves that corporations being profit-driven don't mean they will create a better product, and in fact may cause them to do the opposite. And the existence of great free and open source software, created entirely without the motivation of corporate profits, proves that people don't need to profit in order to help their fellow human beings. It kinda makes you question capitalism.

[kaybreezy3000]

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

~ Number Five X Female Reader Insert ~

A life with Five Hargreeves is always full of fun surprises but bring on the holidays and watch out.

~Tags and Warnings: explicit sexual content, fluff, flirting, humor, family, You x Five, Daddy Five, co-written with @badkitty3000

Chapter One: Your Sharp Dressed Man

As you stumbled in the back door, your snow-covered heels started slipping out from under you the second you hit the hardwood floor. “Ohhh-sssshhhh! Help, Five!” you cried, teetering backwards.

Only just now realizing you were home, Five immediately dropped the cheese he was grating, blinking himself across the kitchen to catch you before you fell. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you pull in,” he apologized, while trying to unburden you of all the boxes and bags you were holding. “What is all this stuff?” 

“Quiet!” you shushed, worried your son in the other room would overhear. “It’s stuff for Christmas,” you explained. “Hide those somewhere before he comes out here.” You gestured to two of the larger boxes in Five’s arms as three other bags slipped from your grasp, landing at your feet. 

Blinking again, only a few seconds later, Five reappeared, free of all the presents. He smiled, marveling at your inability to get yourself out of the mess you had somehow managed to get yourself into.

Still trying to untangle yourself, your car keys and travel mug dangling off two fingers and your purse weighing heavily at your neck, you glared at him. “A little more help please.”

Unfazed by your visual daggers, kindly coming to your aid again, Five eased four more bags off your arms, eyeing them skeptically. “Did we really need to do more shopping? I thought we were done.” 

“We…didn’t do any shopping,” you corrected as you rubbed the blood back into your arms, then set your hands at your hips. “If I recall our trip to the mall, you disappeared right away and found yourself a cozy bookshop to hide in while I wandered around all by myself trying to pick out nice things for your enormous family.  So, thanks for nothing, you big jerk.”  

“Hey…” Five scrunched his eyes, trying to look insulted, but really, that wasn’t that far from the truth. “Who says I didn’t shop?”

Tripping over the bags on the floor, you brushed your lips against Five’s over exaggerated pout. “I do, because I know you. You hate shopping, and when you came strolling up to me in that huge toy store, I could smell the coffee and old books all over you.” 

“Fine, you caught me,” he conceded, his smirk growing as he prepared to substantiate your belief that he hadn’t done any shopping, not even for you. “But isn’t me smelling like coffee and musty old books better than me smelling like strippers and bad booze?” 

“Marginally better,” you said, then smiled, because you knew Five had no interest in ogling naked women unless that naked woman was you. 

As you planted another tiny smooch on his waiting lips, Five quickly fastened his hands on your butt, so he could prolong the kiss. Pulling you off balance, one of your stilettos lifted off the floor, coming down a second later, loudly popping a hole in a shipping bag, startling you both. 

With his advance foiled, Five looked down at your feet. “What is all this crap? It looks like you brought home three of the exact same, hideous looking shirts.”

You grinned diabolically but Five didn’t see it because he was angrily kicking your purchases away from your feet.

“Hmmm,” you hummed, your fingers slowly moving up the firm expanse of his chest, stopping to toy with the collar of his dress shirt where he had it unbuttoned just enough to show some skin. “It smells so good in here.” You leaned in, applying a few gentle kisses to the sexy protrusion of his Adam’s apple. “You smell good too,” you seductively added. “Looks like someone’s trying to get lucky tonight by looking all hot while making me my favorite dinner.”

Five rolled his eyes as he dropped his head back so you could get at more of him. “I’m insulted you think I would stoop that low just to get some ass. Especially when we both know you’ll give it up for me, dinner or no dinner.”

“DAD!” your son shouted from the living room. “When is the food going to be ready? I’m hungry!”

Automatically pulling away from him, Five let out a high-pitched sound of distress, sounding so much like his discontent son.  “Kids,” you tiredly huffed, looking back at your husband’s overdone look of disappointment.

“We could ignore him,” Five hopefully suggested.

“Awww,” you soothed, your hand playing at the back of his neck, fingers threading through his neatly combed hair. “Don’t worry. There will be plenty of time later to find out just how willing I am to give it up, and for you to fill me in on your day, but right now, we better feed the monster in there before he blinks himself out to get Taco Bell.”

Knowing all too well that thanks to him, your seven-year-old son could easily do something like that, but also thinking about how he could get what he wanted, Five’s lips pulled to the side. “If I move fast, I could fill you in right now…”

In case you weren’t already aware of what kind of filling he was referring to, Five rolled his hips against yours while giving your ass a hard slap.

“Oh, really,” you giggled, jolting against him. “I do love it when you fill me in, but first thing’s first.” Smirking, you gave him a condescending pat on one of his nice taut butt cheeks. “Be a good boy and go serve us up some of that mouth watering food, and I'll let my other sweet guy know it’s ready.”

“Fine,” Five grumbled as he turned back to the stove top, sullenly whisking his bubbling concoction of creamy cheeses. 

~~~

“This was just what I needed tonight,” you said, stretching your legs under the table as you savored your last sip of wine. “Thank you for making such a wonderful dinner for us, Mr. Hargreeves. You are unable to do anything half ass and I love it”

Taking your plate back to the sink, Five smiled to himself. He couldn’t be happier. He was living his dream retirement. He finally had a real home, and getting to play Mr. Mom while being your trophy husband was more than he could have ever wished for.

Making nice meals when you got home was one of his absolute joys. Of course, your compliments flaming his insatiable ego didn’t hurt. That, and how you’d be repaying him later for his efforts.

Speaking of which…

Just as Five finished loading the dishwasher, before he could get his hands on you and blink you upstairs, you bent down, picking up your discarded packages.

“Really, what are those ugly things?” he asked, his eyes on the red and white striped pile of clothes in your lap.

Your face lit up. “They are our matching outfits for this year’s Christmas card photo.”

Five’s smile instantly evaporated. “No.”

Your grin got bigger. “Yes,” you excitedly chirped. Further appalling him, you stood up, letting him see the true extent of your horrendous plan.

Unfolding in front of your body was what appeared to be an adult sized pair of footie pajamas. If that wasn’t bad enough, they were striped like candy canes, with the added addition of smiling cat faces mixed into the ridiculous print that extended from head to toe.

“You’re delusional if you think I’m wearing that,” Five said, shaking his head as he leaned back against the counter, lifting his glass full of Scotch to his mouth.

“Awwww, come on!” You twirled it around, showing him the back of the ensemble, as if seeing that you’d bought butt-flap pajamas was going to somehow help change his mind.

However, thinking of all the fun he could have with you while wearing those, biting the inside of his cheek, Five couldn’t fully contain the twitch of his mouth or how his dimple deepened.

“No,” he said again, as sternly as possible.

Frowning, you dropped the outfit, stomping over. Knowing how to get your way with your husband, you pressed your body against his, your hands sneaking into the front pockets of his fitted slacks. 

Pretending not to care that you were feeling him up, Five took another drink of his Scotch, uncouthly choking on it when you started caressing his dick.

“Please, Fiiivvve,” you begged, your slightest touch already getting him hard. “I’ve always wanted one of those funny family Christmas photo-cards like everyone else sends out.”

Clearing his throat, Five set his empty glass down on the counter. Taking your hand from his pocket, encasing it in his, he forced you to grip him even tighter, moving your hand up and down his shaft. 

He glanced down the hall towards the living room, then cocked his chin at you. “I love to hear you beg, darling, but nothing you say or do is going to change my mind. I wouldn’t be caught dead in those stupid pajamas.”

“Really?” you challenged, moving your hand a little faster.

He laughed. “Yes, really, and if the Lego king wasn’t out there, probably about to come back in here and tell us he’s already hungry again, I’d have you on your knees, shutting you up with my dick in your mouth.”

“Maybe I want your dick in my mouth,” you breathed, really getting into it, your palm moving over the entire length of his cock before coming back to fondle the protruding fabric covering the girthy heat of his deliciously swollen tip.  

“Oh, Fuck, you are relentless…” Five groaned. “I never said we couldn’t do a family picture for your card, I am just not wearing that.” 

“Please,” you pushed.

Five looked over at the pile of clothes laid out on the table. He took in a long, unsteady breath, his hips jutting into your hand as he leveled you with one of his menacingly sexy looks. “I am a suit man, and only a suit man. Always was and always will be, and you trying to make me cum in my pants isn’t going to change that.”

You lowered your hand, gripping his balls. “And you look so hot in these suits of yours, sweetheart. But what if you try something else, just once? I promise it will be fun. You’d look handsome in anything you put on. Pretty please, do it for me?” 

“SHHHeee-It!” Five loudly groaned as you tightened your grip. 

With your teeth sinking into your lower lip, and that dreamy look in your eyes, and your hand back on his cock, massaging… He was so fucked.

“NO!” he gruffly barked, determined not to back down. He gripped the counter behind him to keep from thrusting into your hand. “You knew damn well before you brought that junk in this house that I wouldn’t wear it.” His eyes droopily fluttered closed as his lips parted on tiny hitched breaths.

Not giving him a moment to regather himself, you kept at it, increasing the friction of your hand over the expensive wool covering his erection. 

Five sucked in a sharp breath as he grabbed the back of your neck, his power crackling violently as he spontaneously blinked you both upstairs. As soon as his polished Oxfords hit the floor, he chucked you on the bed. 

“I hate when you do that,” you dizzily whined, your body still mid-bounce off the mattress.

“Sorry,” Five laughed, not sorry at all. “Time is of the essence; I promised our son I would finish reading him The Christmas Carol before he went to bed, but that’s not happening until we settle this first.” 

Climbing over you, Five pushed your legs apart with his knees, his hands racing to undo his dress pants, but only enough to free his cock. Shoving your panties aside, he took aim, rubbing his tip over your slit, getting himself slicked.

“Please, Five,” you moaned, not sure what you were begging for anymore when he started prodding your clit with his glistening shaft. 

Weren’t you just talking about cat pajamas? Or was it his dick in your mouth? 

“Oh-fff!” you cried out, when he bottomed out inside you with no warning.

Wincing with pleasure, Five hissed his own song of curses but he didn’t let himself enjoy the ecstasy long. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out half way. Pants bunched around his knees, his fingers digging into the backside of your thighs, he started pistoning his strong hips, working the ring of his engorged cock head back and forth across your g-spot.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you helplessly chanted with each shallow thrust.

Sitting up a little, flipping his head back to get his hair out of his eyes, Five smirked. “That’s it. Take daddy’s cock like a good girl. I’m the one that wears the pants around here, not some stupid fucking adult onesie and you better not forget it.”

Pumping you harder and harder, he ruthlessly worked his fingers over your clit. Head thrown back as you moaned his name, you quickly fell over the edge, trying to muffle your moans with your pillows so your son didn’t hear you from the living room below. 

Your orgasm still ripping through you, a few seconds later, Five spilled his seed as deep inside you as he could, losing all his momentum as he nearly collapsed on top of you in a dizzying wonderment of pleasurable shudders. 

Catching himself at the last second, elbows buried in the blankets next to yours, Five gave you a sloppy kiss, then pulled away with a happy smile. “Why don’t you take a nice relaxing bath, my love? When I’m done with my other daddy duties, I promise I will be back to really rock your world.”

You tried to form a reply, but your mind and body were so fucked already, you couldn’t; making Five feel even more certain that he had made his point. He wasn’t going to wear Christmas pajamas. He was the daddy there, after all, with decades of seniority over you to back up that claim. 

~~~

“Good,” you said, quickly checking the locks on the tripod, before you set the camera settings to allow you to use the small remote in your hand. “Stay just like that. It’s perfect except for that look on your face, Five. If you don’t smile on your own, I am going to make you,” you warned.

Your son looked up from where he was sitting on his bean bag, taking in Five’s sulky expression. His identical green eyes narrowing, your little boy’s brows knitted together, mimicking his dad’s look perfectly. 

Stuck in a standoff he knew he couldn’t win, Five begrudgingly twisted his features into something much less sour looking, but it still wasn’t great.

“Just smile dad,” your son exasperatedly sighed. “It’s not like it’s the end of the world. It’s just a picture. Just do what mom says like you always do, and we can be done faster.” 

After being put in his place by a grade schooler, Five took a long drink from the crystal tumbler he was holding, letting the amber liquid burn as he formed his reply. 

He cleared his throat. “Apparently you two aren’t seeing my vision for this one.”

“And what’s that?” you asked.

“I’m going with the classic, man of the house look. Which, I would like to remind both of you, I still am, last time I checked.” 

Like a hawk tracking its prey, as he had been doing most of the morning, Five was eyeing up the small amount of cleavage you were unable to cover due to the low neckline of your outfit. His wandering eye only made your chest heave up and down even more with giggles.

“I don’t need to smile. Stoic and amazing has always been my look,” he calmly continued, before tipping back his drink again. 

Despite the speech and his stupid reasoning, he knew all too well that you were going to win this one; just like you’d won and got him in the stupid cat pajamas he was wearing.

Well… You’d mostly won. 

Getting dressed while smirking at his reflection in the mirror, Five had pulled up his footie pajamas, putting them on backwards so the buttoned-up ass flap with the giant cat face on it was covering his crotch instead of his butt. Seeing that he at least had it on, you let him keep it that way.

With everything finally at the ready, your husband’s handsome grin in place, you sprinted over to your family, positioning yourself behind Five’s chair, with one hand resting on his shoulder. 

 “We are doing several shots guys,” you said as your fingernails dug in, “so keep smiling, damn it.” 

Trying to sound scary as you purposely clawed your husband, he smiled.

The room filled with the bright flash of the camera. You hit the switch several more times before sprinting back to check the digital image to see if you got one that would work for your Christmas card.

“Five! I am going to-!” 

Instead of going off on your husband, or further tainting your son’s innocent ears since the headboard banging against the wall the night before had been bad enough, you held your tongue. Marching over, you plunked yourself down on Five’s lap, making you all into one big mishmash of red white and white striped cat pajama Hargreeves madness. 

“Ready, kiddo? I’m going to make your grumpy old dad smile if it’s the last thing I do.”

Five tensed just as you started sneakily tickling him between the legs with one hand while the other hit the rapid fire button on your remote.

With that well timed move, you got your perfect picture.

~~~

A few hours later, while you and the rest of your guests were out in the kitchen getting more hors d'oeuvres and drinks, Diego and Five sat in opposite armchairs, in front of the crackling fire.

“You look like an asshole. You know that right?”

Five looked over at his brother, contemplating blinking behind him so he could flip his chair backwards. The itch to smear Diego on the floor was getting harder and harder to ignore because this was about the twentieth time he’d pointed out his ridiculous Christmas onesie.

Seeing that it was the holidays, and not wanting to hear a lecture from his loving wife, Five refrained from throttling his brother. You had invited his family over to have a small get-together before the larger one that Luther and Sloane would be hosting the next day. He promised to behave, and it was very important that he kept his promises, lest he risk facing the repercussions of your kittenish wrath.

That was the reasoning Five was using to keep his ire in check, but when Diego kept staring at him, like he expected him to answer, he finally snapped. “I am very aware of what I look like,” he testily informed him. “This is my damn house and if I want to look like an asshole, then that’s my business, so shut your trap about it already.” 

Hearing his brother defending his silly choice of party attire so vehemently, Diego smiled. Seeing Five like this was something that he never thought he’d witness in a million years. You and his son were the best things that could have happened to the Hargreeves family’s slightly unhinged time traveler, and they all loved you.

As your voices in the kitchen drew nearer, fresh drink in hand, Klaus sauntered in wearing his own hideous Christmas sweater, paired with a very nice, flowy red skirt. “What are we chatting about?” he asked, sprawling out on top of the bean bag that was sitting in front of the Christmas tree.

Diego laughed. “Oh, you know, just how Five became the world’s biggest push over.”

“I wore this by choice,” Five dryly retorted.

“Sure you did,” Diego chuckled back, downing the rest of his cocktail as he looked over at you and Lila coming back to join the party. “Just in time, babe.”

Reaching out, he took the refilled glass Lila was handing him. Taking a sip, he immediately sprayed a fine mist of his beverage all over himself.

“Damn woman! Are you trying to get in my pants later or kill me?” he questioned, his mouth puckering from the 100 proof liquor she just served him.

She eyed him with her usual look of enamored disdain. “If I wanted to get in your pants, Diego, I wouldn’t waste my time getting you plastered first. I’d just tell you to drop your pants, and you’d happily comply like you always do. As for killing you…well, you’ll just have to risk it.” She clinked her glass with his. “Cheers, babe.”

Nodding like he thought her logic was reasonable, Diego took another drink, this time, not making as much of a disgusted face about it. “Very true,” he agreed while pointing to Five. “See. I’m just fucking with you. It’s totally fine to be pussy-whipped. Even if that means you look like a big man baby who doesn’t know how to dress himself.”

Five glared at his brother. “I know how to dress myself, you idiot.”

“No. No you don’t, dude. Your dorky outfit is on backwards, and even more interesting is that you cut the feet off the bottoms. What’d you do? Have another growth spurt?”

Grinning over their exchange of brotherly wisdom and slights, you approached Five. The sparkle of mischief in his eyes had you instantly worried. 

“You mean the hatch doesn’t go in front?” he asked you, his dark eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “How else is a guy supposed to get to his junk in these things?”

Covering up little Gracie where she’d fallen asleep on the couch, Lila let out a loud snort, and before Diego could say anything else helpful, Five had his arms around your waist, pulling you down over his lap. 

His hand smacked across your ass with a throbbing thwack, thwack, thwack, as he shamelessly spanked you in front of everyone.

“See, darling?” Five taunted. “This is what you get for making me wear this dumb shit!”

Hearing the commotion from where he had been squeezed in next to Grace, playing with the action figures Uncle Klaus brought him, your son looked over. Way too familiar with you both being embarrassing weirdos, he grabbed his headset and his tablet off the coffee table, going right back to ignoring all the adults.

With you squirming and laughing hysterically, taking you with him, Five vanished, leaving an intense burst of static in his wake. Thinking about how much he didn’t want to make you sick, but not thoroughly thinking through the new addition of his evil plan, Five landed his jump inside the front hall coat closet, only a few yards away, within earshot of your guests.

Stumbling into him in the dark, having been one second bent bottoms up over his lap, and now being turned upright on your feet, your hand flew to your mouth. “Oh, lord. I think I might throw up.”

“Sorry, my love,” Five lied. “Agreeing to wear this adult sized infant wear comes with a price and railing you in this closet is part of your punishment.”

“You already spanked me!”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “and the huge boner I am sporting because of that is a large part of why we are in here now rather than me waiting until later to attack you.”

“Five?” you shrilly whispered, but he quickly covered your mouth, muffling anything else you could say. His other hand came around to your front, holding you with your back against his chest as you got your bearings in the dim light creeping in from the crack under the door. “We can’t do it in here!” you frantically mumbled against his fingers.

Pressing you up against the coats, his whisper came out hot against your ear. “Yes, we can. I’m going to fuck you right here and now to teach you a lesson about picking out my clothes. While I’m at it, I might as well make use of these stupid butt hatches.”

“I knew you liked your jammies,” you accused as you shoved your rear end back into him, forcing him to let go so you could spin around and wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

Diving right in, Five replied while feverishly kissing your neck as his hands glided around your waist.

“These are like wearing body condoms,” he complained as he frantically searched between your legs for a way in but couldn’t find one. Growling, he pressed his face against your neck, the sharp points of his teeth grazing your skin as he said, “Looks like you're getting it the old-school way.”

Before you could comprehend what that meant, Five started rubbing his erection against you at a jarring pace, humping you like the heartbreakingly lonely and sexually frustrated teen he had been while stuck in the apocalypse with nothing but Dolores and his hand to keep him busy. 

“Oh-mmm-my-gah-god, Fff-ive,” you stammered.

Greedily squeezing your butt, your hilariously horny husband finally remembered your pajama hatch was on your backside. Before you could tell him not to, he tore the flap open, the buttons tinkering somewhere in the dark, the goofy cat face that had been decorating your ass now presumably hanging limply at your knees. 

Freely exploring the curves of your bare ass since you’d skipped underpants to avoid panty lines, Five’s brain took even more of a vacation. Doubling down, he spun you around, pushing you up against the wall. Dark objects clunked against the walls and rained down on your heads, the hangers screeching along the rail as your coats tumbled to the floor.

“I’m all for a good dry hump,” Five teased, now that he had you pinned how he wanted, “but it would be such a shame not to use this handy-dandy back door you’ve got here. Hence why I have mine positioned backwards.”

“They are going to hear us,” you warned, getting confirmation that he’d put his clothes on backwards on purpose. 

“I don’t care,” he breathed, kissing the back of your neck, all the while knowing that the only one he cared about hearing him fuck you was wearing headphones.

“That feels so gah-good,” you whimpered as he groped your chest and suckled your ear lobe.

Fumbling with his own buttons, Five anxiously pulled his dick out, then wrapped his other arm around your midsection, fingering you from the front while he rutted himself between your warm butt cheeks.

“Bend over a little,” he ordered, impatiently trying to stick himself inside you, but finding he couldn’t quite get the right angle.

More things fell to the floor as you tried to curl in on yourself, the wall hitting your forehead as heavy wooden hangers clattered to the floor.

There was no way someone didn’t hear that, but wantonly ramming your butt against Five dick made it clear that you didn’t care either.

Just as Five managed to find the right position to slip himself into your heavenly tight sleeve, the latch on the old door he had been leaning on gave in. Not expecting the door to burst open like it was, Five came crashing out with you falling backwards on top of him. At the sound of your yelp of undignified terror, everyone’s heads spun your way.

Rolling to the side with him still in the big spoon position, you saw that Five’s chocolatey dark hair was standing up in every direction, and no matter how fast he got his flap back up, there was no fooling the crowd. You tried to help save the situation by backing your ass up against Five’s big boner, but based on Lila’s amused expression, it was a lost cause. 

You were already laughing so hard you were crying, but your tears got worse when Five’s nostrils flared, a whistling sound of desperation coming out of him that made him sound like a dying animal.

Trying to fix the situation, Five attempted to blink away with you again, but you saw it coming in his frantic clenching of his hands and the telltale clench of his jaw. Not wanting to go for another ride, you broke away from him, quickly getting your feet under you before taking off into the living room on slippery, cotton covered heels.

Forced to blink without you, crazed at this point, Five reappeared in the middle of the room, over-rotating out of his portal. He grabbed for you, but with no grip on his feet, he was unable to stop his forward momentum. Tripping over your son’s bean bag, you both went flying, falling into the Christmas tree, knocking it down with an impressive explosion of airborne pine needles and breathlessly panted profanities.

A rainbow of glass bulbs skittered across the room as you lay there in a tangled mess. To make it all the merrier for your guests and your frazzled husband, there was sparkling tinsel from the tree flung everywhere.

Springing forward from his spot on the couch, Klaus burst out laughing. “Holy shit! You two are amazing. Five, I fucking love you, you crazy bastard! You guys sure know how to throw one hell of a Christmas party!”

Seeing that his parents were being dumb as usual, kicking his short legs out into the space his uncle just vacated, Five’s tiny-look-alike son slowly rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then went right back to his video game. Next to him, Grace stretched her little body out and yawned, sleepily looking around. “Mommy… Is Uncle Five being a tosser again?”

From her new position in Five’s abandoned recliner, Lila nodded. “Yes, he is, sweetie. Now go back to sleep.”

Picking up one of the dozens of ornaments that were littering the living room floor, Lila flicked the shiny ball, bouncing it off Five’s head. Adding insult to injury, he could do nothing to stop it from hitting him because his hands were still occupied trying to cover up his and your private parts.

Still lazily toasting his feet by the fireplace, Diego looked to Lila. “Next time I say we do Christmas at our house, just go with it.”

“Why?” she laughed. “I’m with Klaus. Best Christmas ever.”

“Fuck,” Five huffed, trying to blow a glittery piece of tinsel out of his face. Giving up, he flopped backwards, trying to hide himself in the pile of presents. “Sorry,” he groaned so pitifully that it only made everyone laugh even harder.

Klaus raised his glass. “Cheers to another blockbuster Hargreeves Christmas!  It’s never a dull moment with you two sexy perverts around.”

Faking a gag, Lila tipped her drink to that while Diego continued to shake his head. “Can we just take a moment to ponder the fact that this asshole here is supposed to be the genius in the family?”

“Shut up, Diego,” Five mumbled.

“No, seriously. If you…the dumbass in the backwards cat pajamas that tried to bone his wife in the coat closet…is the smartest of us…that might explain a lot of things.”

Rolling his head to the side, the boxes under him crunching, Five looked his way. “What things?”

Diego shrugged. “I don’t know. Off the top of my head, I’d say things like your failed time traveling, getting your family stuck in the 1960’s, mistakenly dialing back your age by quite a few years. Although, that one probably worked in your favor, seeing as how your wife probably wouldn’t be interested in banging your wrinkly old ass.”

Raising your arm, you gave a thumbs up of agreement to that, Five tackling your single digit of approval back down in a feisty game of thumb war.

“That’s it! Say your prayers, asshole!” he growled to his brother, after you let him beat you. Jumping up to beat the shit out of Diego, your reenergized husband forgot that his front dick flap was still undone. 

Accidentally exposing himself to his entire family again, suddenly a bright flash of light filled the room, blinding everyone.

As soon as you could see through all the little black and white stars floating in front of your face, you looked next to you, thinking Five would be gone, but he was still standing there, hands covering his crotch, gaping like a fish. 

Grinning, Klaus held up the camera remote.  

“Merry Christmas, my dearest sister-in-law. There’s your card for next year!” he yelled as he dashed away, trying to escape the murderous clutches of his red-faced brother.

Chapter Two: When Number Five Steps Out, He's Gonna Do You In

It was December 30th and Five was sitting in his living room, enjoying the quiet of the house after all of the craziness of Christmas. Glad that this time of year was finally coming to an end, he tipped his head back against his chair and let out a long, tired sigh.

It wasn’t that Five hated Christmas, or the holidays, or spending time with his family. But if someone were to come to him right now and tell him that all holidays that required family gatherings were now canceled, he definitely wouldn’t argue with them.

All he wanted to do now was stay home with his wife and son and not have to interact with others or leave the house. After all, he was in his seventies now, despite the fact that he didn’t look a day over twenty-five.

Shouldn’t that mean he was entitled to indulge in some old man activities? 

A few days of sitting by the fire in his robe and slippers, doing sudoku puzzles, and watching The Weather Channel were sounding pretty good. 

“Yeah, ok…meet here tomorrow around noon?” your voice echoed from the hall. “I have plenty of food and drinks for the kids and us. We can go sledding and then you can stay for dinner and drinks until midnight. See you then!”

You came walking in as you hung up the phone. Sitting down on the couch, you gave Five one of your excited smiles that slowly evaporated when you saw his face.

“What?” you innocently questioned.

Five did not look impressed. “Even though I know what you’re going to say, darling, who were you talking to?”

“Lila. I asked her, Diego and Grace to come over tomorrow for New Year’s Eve. We can take the kids sledding and ice skating.” 

Five ran a hand down his face as he groaned dramatically. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What? Sledding is fun!”

“No,” Five deadpanned. “No, it is not. It’s the furthest thing from fun, actually.”

You frowned at him. “It’s the holidays, and you’re supposed to spend time with family and do fun winter activities.”

Five threw his hands in the air. “We did spend the holidays with family! A week ago, for Christmas, remember? I assumed that meant I did my required time and now I can be left alone to do what I want to do. Which involves a lot less dragging sleds up freezing cold hills and a lot more mid-day naps in this chair.”

“Five, really…get over yourself,” you said, laughing at him. “It’s not going to kill you to spend a day with your brother and his family, and take your son sledding.”

“It might. You don’t know that,” he replied, still looking entirely serious.

As you huffily stood up, placing your hands on your hips, Five saw the signs that he was about to lose the argument.

“We are going sledding, and we are going to spend New Year’s Eve with Diego and Lila. Because you know why?”

Five assumed that was a rhetorical question, but when you kept standing there, waiting for an answer he narrowed his eyes. “I bet you’re going to tell me,” he grumbled.

“Because for the past month I have busted my ass to do everything around here, making sure we all have a magical holiday, while all you have done is eat all the cookies, complain, and try to fuck me in a closet and ruin our Christmas tree! So, I think the least you can do is suck it up for one more day.”

Five went to open his mouth but he was cut off. “I swear to god, unless what you’re about to say is along the lines of ‘yes, dear,’ then I advise you to shut up,” you snapped.

Five closed his mouth again, looking both pissed off and also resigned to the fact that his wife had won yet again. He sat back in the chair with his jaw clenched tight, looking adorably baffled.

Seeing that, you smiled, relaxing a little. “Look, I know this isn���t your idea of fun. But if you can just make it through without trying to murder anyone, I promise I will make it worth your while in the end.”

Watching you walk away, Five had his doubts that anything would be good enough to make sledding worth it in the end, but that didn’t mean the gears in his head weren’t spinning.

Thinking of his New Year’s resolutions list, he grinned.

---

The next day, you and Five were standing at the top of a sledding hill, ankle deep in fresh snow, as your son waited patiently for Five to push him down the hill in his new sled. Even though Five loved watching his son having fun, he was still not thrilled about the chosen activity for the day.

He turned to you with a grumbly expression. “You know, I walked around hauling Dolores and all my shitty things with me for 45 years, so wrap your head around that when trying to understand why I am not interested in doing this kind of shit for fun.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop complaining. I bet at least your feet aren’t freezing right now.” You looked down at your boots. “I should have listened to you about that second pair of socks.”

Five jut his chin haughtily. “You should have listened to me about staying home, but yes darling… Rule number one of winter survival: you can never have on enough socks.”

“Well, since you’re Mr. Prepared For The End Of The World, can’t you give me one of your extra pairs before my toes fall off?”

He shook his head. “As much as I normally love hearing you ask me to take my clothing off, this time it’s a big fat no. You didn’t want to listen to me before, so now you have to face the consequences, so you learn your lesson.”

“You and your lessons,” you grumbled. Smirking, you glanced down to where Five had the sled tied to his pants. He clearly did it so he could better pull the weight of your son and keep his hands free if his boots slipped out from under him, which right then they did. Arms flailing, with you laughing, Five found his balance again followed by a loud curse.

“Five…” you giggled. “Your survival skills truly are impressive, and I love you for that, even when you look like a dork. You’re so sexy, sweetie.”

Five shot you a wicked grin that was all white teeth and bite. “Oh… If you love me so much, then why don’t you let this sexy dork sneak you off into those pine trees over there so I can warm up those cold feet of yours.” He playfully quirked a brow, then added, “Skin on skin contact brings on the heat, all survivalists know that. Add some friction and your blood will really get moving again.”

Finally trudging back up to the hill with her daughter on the sled she was tugging along behind her, Lila overheard that and said, “Yeah, you would know, Captain Hands In Your Pants.”

Just as Five was opening his mouth to retaliate, your son toppled off the back of the sled, sliding down the icy slope on his back. “Help!” he shouted, slipping halfway back down the hill on the hard ice.  

Five looked over at you, your arms whirling because you’d just lost your footing too.

“God damn it,” Five huffed, reaching a hand out to steady you.

“You got him, daddy?” you breathed, hands still out, your body clumsily poised and ready in case the icy surface got the better of you again.

“Yes,” Five grated out while turning around to go save his son.

As soon as he started down the hill, Five slipped on his ass and proceeded to slide the rest of the way down, like an angry man-sized starfish. Helplessly gliding down the slippery slope, he made a show of loudly threading together as many expletives as possible.

Once he was able to right himself again, and he set his son back on the sled, Five started lugging him up the hill, still cursing to himself. 

Like a light bulb turning on in his head he was suddenly hit with an epiphany.

“Wait a damn minute…” he muttered as he stopped. He rolled his eyes. “Jesus, I’m an idiot.”

He looked down at his snow-covered gloves, the faintest blue glow emanating from them.

“Why not? Screw it”

In a whirling flash of blue, Five snatched up his little boy, just as he was about to fall off the sled again.

Landing at the top of the hill, looking down at the rest of the gang that still hadn’t finished getting to the top, Five crossed his arms over his chest, while giving you all a cocky grin.

Standing only halfway up the hill, having witnessed the whole thing, you threw your hands up in the air in frustration. “What the hell? That’s not fair!”

Five shrugged, his smirk growing. “Sorry, darling, all is fair in love and war. Or in this case, horrible winter activities.”

Landing next to him in a flash of blue light, Lila stuck her landing much more smoothly than Five had, beaming at him with her own self-satisfied smile.

“I didn’t give you consent to steal my abilities,” said, glaring at her. “That’s a violation of my body and privacy.”

Lila laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself, you little kinder-shit. I wouldn’t violate that body of yours with a ten-foot pole.”

Five sneered. “We’ve all heard your whole ‘anything you can do, I can do better line,’ but you and I both know that’s bullshit and that you will never be better than me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe it is.”

While they were squaring off, the rest of your group finished making it up the hill, out of breath and mildly annoyed.

“Would it have killed you two to maybe bring your spouses along for the ride? Just saying, it would have been nice,” Diego huffed as he pulled his daughter up next to him on her sled.

Lila glanced over at Diego, waving a dismissive hand. “You know you’d get motion sick if I jump with you, so quit whining.” 

She opened her mouth to go at Five again, but before she could, you piped up. “I may not like getting thrown through the blender of time and space that much either, but it would be better than-”

Cutting you off, Five made a snapping mouth hand motion at you with his mitten, which did not go over well with you, but before you got a chance to express your displeasure, Five was back at it, barking at Lila.

“I bet my son and I can make it to the bottom of the hill before you and Grace are even half-way down. What do you say? Up for a race?”

“That’s not fair,” Lila complained. “You have more weight on your team. I may not be a self declared genius like you, but that’s just simple physics and an unfair advantage, you cheater.”

Five smirked. “Fine, I’ll give you a head start.”

Lila’s own grin became even more devious looking. “So, what do I get when we win?” she questioned, as if she and your husband were talking about something much more serious than a sled race.

“The winner will be declared the official King of this Mountain and the loser has to buy the next round of hot chocolate,” Five smoothly retorted before adding, “And using any powers is an automatic disqualification. So, just keep that in mind when WE win.”

“You’re on, old man.”

Oblivious of their parents' kindergarten level pissing match, the kids had wandered off to go make snow angels, leaving them to set up the sleds for their epic race alone.

After dragging them back over and plopping them down in front of them on their slick pieces of red plastic, the two ex-assassins eyed each other up.

“Get ready to lose,” Lila declared, tightening her hold on Grace as she stuck her tongue out at Five.

“Real mature,” he scoffed, his lips twisting up to one side despite his best effort not to smile.

As promised, Five gave Lila a very brief head start before he pushed off after her, kicking off with his heels as he leaned forward with all his weight so he could catch up to her.

As he was concentrating on gaining speed and overtaking her lead, Five didn’t notice that he was headed straight for a small child that had fallen off their sled and was lying in the snow in the middle of the hill. At the very last second, he saw them, but with no time and barely any control over his sled, Five had no choice but to blink himself and your screaming son out of the way to avoid a crash.

Since spatial jumps when already moving at an accelerated rate were tricky at best, Five ended up making an ass of himself anyway. 

Falling out of his portal in a crackling burst of frosty air, he and your son landed at the bottom of the hill, narrowly missing a group of teenagers, before sliding further, then smashing into a snow covered evergreen.

Covered in heaps of snow, with his giggling son lying on top of him, Five groaned like an old man who’d fallen and couldn’t get back up.

While still trying to get his boy up on his little rubber boots, Lila came triumphantly sliding by on her sled, smiling and laughing obnoxiously loud.

Ungracefully rolling out of the shrubbery, looking like the abominable snowman, Five glanced around, searching for a weapon to take down his opponent. Finding nothing but the twigs and dried leaves sticking out of his knitted hat, he was forced to concede.

“Alright, alright, stop gloating,” he muttered while Lila danced around him gleefully, swinging Gracie in the air as she giggled.

“I can’t help it” she sang back as they twirled. “Any time I see you make a fool of yourself it’s glorious!”

“Uncle Five is funny,” Grace pointed out, to which Five gave her a silly look he knew would get her laughing again.

Sharing in her daughter's joy, Lila said, “Now, don’t forget, Uncle Five. I like extra whipped cream on my hot chocolate.”

“Me two, Uncle Fivey!” Grace happily yelled as she ran off. 

Seeing that his son was abandoning him to go play with his cousin, Five glowered at Lila for a moment longer because it just felt right, then he blinked away to the top of the hill. As soon as he appeared, you covered your mouth so he couldn’t see you laughing at him.

“What’s so funny?” he asked with a devilish smirk as he took a few strides towards you, like a lion about to pounce.

Backing up, you shook your head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged as he grabbed your hand, pulling you into him with an arm around your waist. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Still trying to suppress your laughter you reached up, picking a small piece of tree out of his hair. “I am on your side,” you assured.

Lowering his chin, his mouth an inch away from yours, he whispered, “The thing is, my love, I’d rather have you on your back.”

Before you could react to that in any way, you were being tackled backwards, feet flying out from under you before your backside landed on the sled. Landing on top, like he’d planned, Five had you trapped.

Your screech of surprise quickly turned to uncontrolled gasps of laughter when you unexpectedly started flying headfirst down the hill, the combined weight of your bodies sending your sled skittering off much further than everyone else’s at the bottom of the hill.

Bouncing on the icy surface, you ripped past the legions of teens and other young kids, slamming into a snowbank where you then toppled over like total assholes.

As you were trying to contain yourself and catch your breath, Five climbed back on top of you, pinning you down as he kissed your frozen cheeks and lips until you were wildly giggling again.

“Stop!” you yelled half-heartedly.

“No,” he simply stated, before crashing his lip into yours, hard and passionately, with enough need behind it to get you to let out a little moan of surrender.

“Five!” you gasped when he finally let you up for air. “We can’t make out in the snow like this in front of all these kids.”

“We most certainly can. And I’m going to do much more with you than make out.”

He went in for another kiss, while you tried wriggling out from under him, your argument turning into laughed exclamations of shock. “Oh my god, Five! That better not be what I think it is that you are rubbing against my leg.”

Nudging your scarf down with his nose, kissing the side of your neck, his words vibrated your skin as his lips spread in a smile. “What do you think it is?”

“Good lord, what is wrong with you? We’re out here doing family stuff and you think it’s a great time to get your fuck on?”

“They can’t tell what we’re doing, we’re wearing too much padding. It’ll just look like we’re wrestling. So, just shut up and let me hump you in this stupid fucking snowbank!”

“Why in the world would we be wrestling? That makes no sense,” you breathlessly argued.

Five let out an aggravated groan. “I don’t know…Can’t you just go along with it?”

“Five, you know I love you and I would normally let you do whatever you want to me and be perfectly happy with it. However, I’m not going to lie here in the snow while you hump me like a dog.”

Strategically digging your cold gloves under the back side of his coat, Five hissed a few fucks, while letting you escape, but as soon as you removed your frozen hands, he retaliated. Grabbing the back of your hood, playfully tugging you back, he said, “Oh come on, honey. This will only take two minutes. Three, tops.”

Sitting down on top of him, Five assumed he was going to get lucky, so he tried to go in for another kiss, but you quickly pushed his shoulders back down in the snow, smiling as you scolded him. “You have some serious problems, Mister. Now go back up there and try to be a normal person who’s out here having a normal day with their family.” He opened his mouth but you slapped a hand over it. “And try not to hump anything on your way there, either.”

“Okay,” he mumbled against the waterproof fabric.

Lying there rejected, Five watched you trudging away. Even in a million layers of insulation, you still managed to look sexy, and now his balls were a little blue and he was even more irritated with all of this.

If he was being forced into this “fun” family outing, the least you could do was indulge him in a little ass. While ruminating on that flawed logic, Five had the urge to call after you and tell you that at least his first wife actually liked being humped in the snow. Deciding that would be a bad move, however, he kept that fond little memory to himself.

--- 

A little while later, after everyone was worn out from sledding, your son asked Five to build a snow fort for him, and his eyes lit up with renewed purpose. 

Now this he could do!

It had been a while, but Five was fairly confident he could still build a structurally sound snow fort that would be habitable for at least a week in the right conditions. Excited to show off his engineering skills, he got to work, piling up mounds of snow and ice.

“Now, if you want a real igloo, you need a parabolic cross section,” Five rambled while on his knees in the snow, digging and making blocks out of ice while his kid pretended to help by kicking piles of snow around. “Which, obviously as you know, is the locus of points on that plane that are equidistant from the directrix and the focus…”

By the time he was done constructing the massive snow fort, putting all of the other dads in the area to shame, Five realized that he’d been abandoned yet again. He looked around, seeing you and your son in the distance, doing god knows what.

Immediately annoyed, he muttered under his breath, “God fucking dammit.”

After going over to retrieve you both, Five proudly gestured to the snow fort. “Not bad, right?”

His son, visibly impressed, crawled in right away, complimenting him. “This is so cool!”

Looping your arm through Five’s, you kissed his cheek. “Good job, Daddy.”

Five smiled as he dismissively raised a shoulder. “See? Not all my survival skills have gone to waste. Not that I want to spend several days in one, but at least I can amuse my kid.”

Just as he said that, your son emerged from the fort. “Let’s go ice skating!”

Five’s mouth dropped open, his smile melting away just like that. “Ice skating? I just spent half a damn day building this thing for you!”

His excited little clone looked back at the fort and then back at you both. “I know, but there’s not much you can do in there.”

Five’s shoulders slumped forward in defeat. You turned to your son. “Don’t be ungrateful. At least thank your father for building that for you.”

He ran up, giving Five a big hug, his small arms not even wrapping halfway around his dad’s waist with all of the winter layers they were wearing. “Thanks, Dad, I love it.”

Five patted him on the back. With a small smile, he softly said, “You’re welcome, buddy.”

Just like that, your little boy was running off to catch up with the others who were already on their way to the ice skating rink.

“Sorry,” you said, leaning your head against Five’s shoulder. “Kids are really fun to make but then after that…not always so much.”

Five laughed at that, then kissed the top of your head. “So true.”

“Well, I need to check out this marvel of engineering for myself,” you said as you started to crawl through the opening of the fort.

Watching your snow-pant-clad ass disappear into his fort, Five naturally assumed that this was an invitation to follow you, so on hands and knees, he made his way in, squeezing in next to you.

“It’s pretty nice in here,” you stated, laying on your back, staring up at the dome over your head. “It’s not going to fall and trap us in here, is it?”

Five turned his head your way. “What do you take me for? An amateur?”

You smiled. “This really is impressive.”

Five smiled back, only his was predatory. Rolling over so he was on his forearms and one of his legs was thrown over yours, he said,  “I can show you something else that’s impressive.” He tried to wriggle his brows. 

“You’re not giving up on this, are you?” 

He shook his head, his lips brushing against yours with the softest touch. “All you have to do is lie here, I’ll do all the work. You can be my snow angel,” he whispered.

Laughing, you rolled your eyes over that corny line. “Five, come on, cut it out.”

“Look, I built this damn thing, I might as well get some use out of it. Besides, what are the down sides?”

As he lightly kissed, then nipped the tip of your cold nose, you giggled. “For one, I don’t want snow up my ass crack.”

Sliding himself over you, Five’s mouth pushed against your, his hips pressing firmly against you. “That’s an easy fix. You get on top,” he purred, moving his mouth along your jaw, his warm breath rushing down your neck.

Even though you were turned on by all this, you resisted. “If it were just you and me, I’d let you make me your snow angel. But there are kids all around so that’s not happening. Can’t you control yourself for a few more hours until we get home?”

Five lifted his face from where he had it nuzzling against your throat, staring back at you in horror. “A few hours? We’re going to be here for a few more hours?”

“Well, I don’t know, maybe. Once we go ice skating and get the kids that hot chocolate…it might be a while.”

Five groaned, collapsing on top of you and pressing his face into your chest as he gyrated his hips but with little strength to it this time. “Please. I cannot take much more of this holiday togetherness, and my guy down here misses you,” he whimpered. 

Your suppressed laugh came out as a very unlady-like snort that only made it harder not to laugh about all this. Feeling bad, you pat the back of Five’s neck with your gloved fingers, unable to sooth him like you normally would by playing with the ends of his hair. “Just hang in there, honey. You’re going to make it.”

Like a child who just came down from a hysterical tantrum, Five lethargically shook his head against your coat, his voice muffled. “No. Go on without me. I am done for. Save yourself.”

“I think you’ve survived worse,” you laughed.

“Nope. This is the worst, trust me.”

After giving him a quick kiss on the forehead, you shimmied out from under him, making your way out of the fort. Once outside, you poked your head back in to see Five still lying there, looking miserable.

“I’m going to the ice rink. Once you’re done with your pity party, please join us.”

After you left, Five slowly got up, sitting himself in the entrance to his fort, a sour pout making him look even younger again. 

Stewing, he concluded you were wrong. Just because he was miserable and wanted to go home did not mean he was having a pity party. 

Absentmindedly rolling a snowball in his gloves, he imagined all sorts of things he’d like to be doing instead of this. Like sitting in his warm house, maybe eating some nice hot soup, and then banging his wife up against a random wall before going to bed at a reasonable hour. 

Was that really too much to ask?

“I’m too old for this shit,” Five heatedly mumbled, his breath forming a white cloud in the cold air in front of his little man cave.

Just then, he was hit dead square in the head with a giant snowball. 

Snow melting and dripping off his face, Five saw Diego at an impossible distance away from him, pretending to tie his shoelace. 

Rather than kill him, Five decided to stay there a little while longer, sitting there like a sad, puffy marshmallow.

---

Hours later, with his ego bruised as much as his sore ass was from showing off just how not good he was at ice-skating, Five finally got to go home. By then, he figured the only way to redeem himself, and the last few weeks, was to end the evening with a bang.

As everyone else was downstairs, shedding their winter wear and pouring drinks, Five was upstairs, preparing for war.

Within a brilliant man, a brilliant plan has formed.

Peering at his reflection in the dressing mirror, Five tightened the knot on his silk tie. He was the embodiment of sexy perfection in his favorite three piece suit.

His cool green eyes dropped to the side table, to the very important list he’d made shortly after he smashed the Christmas tree. 

With his best black dress shoes stealthily descending the staircase, Five moved with all the confidence of a deadly man on a mission, because he was.

Instead of kissing at midnight, he was going to bone you at midnight, in the foyer coat closet, while the rest of the Hargreeves crew were out in the living room not far away, watching the ball drop on Times Square.

Part of his grand idea originated simply from the sheer excitement of doing something so ridiculously depraved again. But it was also because Five couldn’t stand failing, and failing his wife was the worst of all. 

You were right, he didn’t do much to help you make the holiday memorable, other than multiple stupid things. Dressed to kill as he entered the living room, Five was determined to right his wrongs and show his family he still had it.

The moment you saw him, your jaw dropped. Strolling up to you, he played it cool, pretending not to see your eyes running up and down his body, taking him all in. 

“Five?” you questioned, sounding so flustered already that he couldn’t help it when his lips hitched up just a little. 

Smoothly taking the drink you were offering him, he deliberately let his full smile assault you. “Yes, my love?” he calmly replied, looking down where you’d positioned yourself on the couch. In your short little holiday cat sweater dress and matching knee high stockings, somehow you’d managed to make a ridiculously hideous outfit look hot. But there was no way he was going to let on that you were getting to him, like always.

“When you said you were changing into something more comfortable, I’d thought you meant something else…” 

Even with your son sitting right next to you, bonking you over and over as he jabbered with Grace, both of them with headphones on, and talking extra loud to each other as they played a video game, you only had eyes for him.

His plan was working, but before Five could further fluster you with his reply, Lila got in the way. “Looking like an uptight jerk is Five’s comfort zone. It nicely complements the permanent stick-up-his-ass look.”

“I tink Uncle Fivey looks nice,” Grace corrected her, to which Five offered his niece a charming wink that made Lila, probably for the first time ever, speechless.

“Five is a lady killer, nothing more to say,” Diego chuckled as he tipped back his glass, looking at the TV, clearly not moved by his brother’s suave transformation. 

“You do look nice,” you agreed, a little breathlessly, lifting your own glass to meet Five’s in the offer of a little toast of recognition.

After bringing his mouth to his glass for a little taste, Five leaned next to your ear, his free hand softly brushing a stray strand of your hair back as he whispered, “You look ravishing, my love. You always do.”

While you were still drooling over him, all wide eyed and flushing, Five pulled away, striding over to the fireplace. Placing his elbow on the mantle, he pushed his hand in his pocket and casually glanced back at you, a flirty smile pulling his cheek to the side.

“These dipshits out there on the street look like they are about as ready for them to drop that big stupid ball as I am,” Diego huffed at the TV, then repositioned himself on the loveseat next to Lila so his feet were thrown up on her lap. “We don’t have long now, babe, but I am tired as shit. You better do something to liven this party up or you’re going to be carrying me and Grace out to the car.”

Lila gave him the glare of death.

Mostly ignoring them, Five swirled his glass, watching the bubbles in his champagne rise to the surface. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you still looking at him and how you were anxiously biting at your lower lip, taking that as a sign that things were going according to plan.

He looked up again, his eyes meeting yours. He refused to do more than give you the smallest of smiles; but it was one that was about as soft and tender as it could get.

Draining your drink, you crossed your legs tightly, bouncing a socked foot with noticeable agitation.

Making note of that, Five lazily brushed his dark hair out of his eyes, then set his glass down on the mantel. Letting the firelight illuminate the sharp angles of his face, he mouthed for you to get over there.

Unable to take it a second longer, you hopped up off the sofa, heading his way. 

“What are you doing over here all by yourself?” you questioned as you poured a little more bubbly into your husband’s half empty glass.  

“Thinking.”

“Oh? About what?”

Five’s soft pink lips parted, the words he wanted to say left dangling in silence as he twirled a lock of your hair between his fingers. 

“Five…? What are you up to this time?” you pushed.

With a quick intake of air, he smirked and then said, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

As he expected, you didn’t look thrilled by his reply or that he was acting uninterested in the fact that you were pressing your hips up against his, but Five was very much enjoying playing hard to get. It was a nice change from being the pursuer, and making you work for it was most definitely turning him on as much, if not more, than him doing all the hard work.

As if he held some magical, sex God power over you, the next thing he knew, your fingers were curling around his belt loops, pulling him in tighter. “I am not sure if you recall, but I promised you that if you went along with things today, I’d make it worth your while,” you quietly said, just loud enough for him to hear, your eyes pleading with him for attention.

“I remember,” Five simply replied. Then he looked past you, addressing the rest of the living room. “Who needs a refill? I’m going to go get another bottle of champagne.”

As he removed your hands from his pants, Five relished in the shocked look on your face. With a smug grin, he passed behind you, making sure to slide his crotch across your backside, one finger tickling briefly up the channel of your spine before he left you standing there in a dither.

Returning with the champagne a few minutes later, Five continued to pretend he wasn’t aware he was getting to you while he topped off Diego and Lila’s glasses. When he got to you, eyes locked on yours, he took your glass from your hand, his long fingers brushing against yours as he poured.

Heat rushed to your face, your cheeks turning a rosy pink that he loved. When he deliberately fingered the antique ring he’d given you for Christmas, spinning the filigree pattern around your finger, your breath hitched.

“Are you ok, darling? You look a little warm. Should I put out the fire?” he said in a low voice that made you instantly wet.

“I- I…” 

He had you.

Raising a brow as he smirked, Five stepped in closer, taking up all your personal space, his semi hard cock pressing up against the heat between her legs. “You what? You want something, darling?” he breathed, his lips moving over the shell of your ear.

With a bright flash of blue filling the space you both had been standing, your drinks hit the floor, the glass shattering on the hearth. Like deja vu, your backside was rammed up against the mass of coats hanging in the dark coat closet.

Exhaling a moan of pure lust against your lips, Five forcefully flipped your skirt up, one hand painfully grabbing ahold of your ass cheek, the other going right between your legs, his index finger slipping under your underwear, going inside you, hooking as he pumped it hard and fast.

“You did this all on purpose didn’t you?” you accused between heaving breaths, your hands quickly working their way up under his vest. “God, you are so fucking hot in this suit and it’s not fair.”

“What’s the matter, love? You don’t like being teased like you’ve been doing to me all day?” he taunted with lips brushed lightly over your cheek.

“Teasing you? How was I… You know what, I don't care. Let’s do this.”

“I am going to ruin you,” he whispered before his mouth crashed into yours, followed by hangers slipping off the bar and a series of loud clunks and bangs.

“Oh bloody hell!” Lila yelled, intentionally loud enough that both of you could hear it from inside the vacuum-like space of the small closet.

“Five! You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!” Diego bellowed.

As you frantically unbuckled Five’s belt, he let go of your ass just long enough to free himself faster and shove your panties down, your mutual struggle causing his foot to thud backwards into the door.

“Five! What the hell! The kids, man!” Diego shouted.

“We’re moving my office furniture!” Five yelled back.

Kissing along the length of Five’s smoothly shaven neck you tugged his hair, your fingernails tracing lines across his scalp. “You are such a liar,” you mumbled. 

“What?” he laughed, his fingers wetly moving faster inside you. “They don’t know we aren’t upstairs…”

“Yes, they do,” you corrected, just before biting his neck

Letting out a moan, he went at it harder, his fingers inside you squelching, the other possessively digging into your hips, commanding your body to let go for him. 

Your body still spasming, guiding his tip between your shaking legs, Five’s cock slowly filled you, the guttural sounding groan he let out growing in intensity with each inch he took of you. 

Before he could answer with anything but a weakly whimpered, fuck, Five widened his stance. Lifting one of your legs up to his waist, pushing himself inside you, he violently jut his hips forward. Lifting you off the floor, your body swayed back into the pile of coats again as your stockinged feet slipped out from under you.

Bottoming out, Five hissed a curse of joy, then pulled back and did it again, that time making sure to hold you tighter so you didn’t go careening into the door like he had the last time.

Almost immediately Five’s quick thrusts had you breathlessly moaning little sounds of poorly formed words.

“Ffff- Aaah-ah- Fu-ck-fffivvvvv-” 

Loving the sound of you saying his name like that, but also not wanting to let the kids hear too much, Five quickly clasped a hand over your mouth. 

“Shhhh,” he directed, his thighs burning as he pumped his cock inside you, the fast cadence of his fucking not slowing. 

Your muffled cries cut sharp against his fingers as you started to fall apart all over again. He started to slow, and you thought he was about to cum but instead, he swiftly pulled out, then twisted you around so fast you staggered into him, getting totally disoriented in the darkness.

With no warning, Five pulled your hips backwards, his dick impaling you from behind. Bracing yourself against the wall, he slammed his cock into your quivering hole at the same time his hand clapped over your mouth again. 

This time, when you bit into him, Five bit back, his teeth sinking into the side of your neck to the sound of skin on skin smacking, his cock pumping in and out of you at a blistering pace.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good. I am so lucky you love me,” he breathed, with near suffocating heat building across his mostly clothed body.

He was close. With pressure building in his stomach, his abs working hard to deliver the best fuck he could, he moved his newly freed hand up your dress, cupping your breasts as your round ass absorbed the beating his hips were giving it. 

“As much as I love to defile your tits, baby, I love it more when you come on my cock.”

With those dirty words coming from Five and his hand abruptly coming down between your legs, his long fingers rubbing circles around your overstimulated clit, your second release hit you hard and fast, the pulsing waves of your orgasm mimicking the rhythm of Five’s steady thrusts. 

“Five!” you gasped as you pawed at the mess of fabric pushed between you and the wall.

In the dark, she couldn’t see it to confirm it but you didn't need to. Five was just as ruined as you were. His mouth was agape, his eyes closed as he waited for the mindless bliss he knew was coming.

With his wet fingers gliding across your hip, Five latched hold of you, pumping hard, his dick sliding in and out a few more times before he broke. 

Before he pulled out, throbbing hot spurts rushed out of him, filling you, the evidence of his love for you seeping down your thighs. As his climax subsided, he was reminded this was his favorite place to be. Not the closet, but with you, where he was always loved and never felt the need to second guess himself about anything. 

“I love you so much,” he breathed through his full body shudders.

“I love you, Five.” You dropped your head back against him.

He kissed your temple. Taking his pocket square, he carefully and gently wiped between your legs, then righted your clothing, then his.

Though Five could have held you captive forever and his blood deprived brain wasn’t quite yet working at full capacity, he knew this part of the evening needed to end for the rest to commence. 

Spinning you around, giving you a quick kiss, and filling the closet with light, he disappeared.

Stumbling out of the coat closet, slightly disoriented, with your eyes still adjusting to the light, you sheepishly wobbled into the living room thinking Five would be out there already, probably smugly sitting there, acting like you were the one making all that noise by yourself.

Looking at the clock, you saw that it was a few seconds before midnight, and even though the ball was dropping in Times Square, everyone in the living room was looking at you instead of the TV. 

Running a hand through your hair, trying to come up with some lame excuse for your appearance, the widows facing the street light up like it was a sunny summer day.

The kids sprang from the couch, racing towards the large living room window just as a loud explosion sizzled through the sky, lighting everything up again.

“It’s fireworks!” your son excitedly yelled as he looked out at your street, the loud, thunder-like noise echoing through the dark winter neighborhood, mimicking the pounding of your heart.

Still dazed, you moved toward the front door, your family, minus Five, not far behind.

Out on the porch, standing there in his sexy suit, looking like a fuck god of amazingness, your husband turned and smiled at you. In one hand, he was holding the lighter you had used to start the fire earlier, while in the street were what looked like over a dozen boxes of fireworks; the illegal kind that put on a show to rival many of the more professional pyrotechnic displays.

In awe, looking at the sky, you padded your way over to Five. Just as moved by seeing you as you were by all this, he quickly pulled you into his arms. A second later his little boy was by his side, his chin turned up at the flashing lights, his face a picture of childlike wonder that matched his fathers perfectly.

“I love you, dad,” he said as he wrapped his arms around Five’s waist.

“I love you both, too. Happy New Year,” Five whispered as he kissed your hand and pulled you both closer. 

A few feet away, Diego was holding his little three-year-old in his arms, while Lila silently watched the sparkles of fire dancing across the sky. 

The moment was perfect. Everything this family deserved, you’d thought, your eyes misting over with emotion you couldn’t begin to hold back. 

Five was your everything, your dream come true that never stopped delivering, giving you things like this, and your beautiful son.

But if he really had been so insistent on staying home and doing none of this, then how the hell did he…

“When did you go get-” 

Five quickly shushed you, placing a finger over your mouth; the same one that he was fingering you with. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve, darling. I might have a stick up my ass sometimes, as everyone likes to point out, but I still know how to have fun every now and then.”

Diego looked your way, the glow of the bright lights overhead illuminating your faces. Your hair was still in a fucked out mess of snarls, your silly cat dress was all wrinkled, and one of your knee high socks was bunched around one ankle, about to fall off. He laughed. “Looks like your old man still has enough stamina to pull off two vigorous explosions in one night.”

“Three explosions, right, honey?” Five said, beaming at you proudly. 

“Three,” you confirmed, blushing with embarrassment as he bent down to hike up your sock for you.

As a cop car came rolling down your street, Five’s smug expression disappeared in an instant, but the resounding evidence of his last box of fireworks couldn’t be erased so easily. 

He looked over at Lila, who was already laughing at him getting busted.

In the blink of an eye, both of them had opened portals, wrapping the energy fields around all of you, bringing you all back inside the house.

Right before the cops passed your house, Five sprung forward, shutting the curtains, while Lila dimmed the lights. You and Diego were worthless, giggling your dizzy asses off while you flopped down on the couch with the dim light of the TV showing images of the revelers downtown, all of them gazing up at the famous glowing orb. With your spouses coming to your side, you all remained still as the law’s flashing red and blue lights, mixed with the last of the fireworks, faded away.

Having avoided getting arrested over her brother-in-law’s big dick display of lights, Lila sat down next to Diego and picked up her wine glass. “Sometimes I’m not so sure about this little twat,” she looked at Five, “but I’m willing to conceded that you’re one potent adversary I’m happy to have on my side. Cheers,” Lila snarked, clinking her glass with Five’s.

With a contented sigh, he kicked up his heels on the coffee table, then pulled out his checklist, marking it off.

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

Happy Holidays! Thanks for reading. ❤️

Note: These two chapters were originally written to be a part of Kitty's @badkitty3000 'Halo' series. That series had a very lovely OC that Five shared his life with but for this Tumblr posting/request, we decided to rewrite it as a reader insert to hopefully make it more enjoyable to the masses who want to envision living this fun filled life with our favorite guy.

Cheers, Lovelies

~Link to 'Halo'

~Links to KayBreezy's Master List or all Tumblr posts option or Direct to A03

~Link to Kitty's Master List or Direct to A03

[kisses4reid]

convenient pt. 2 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 1 (you cannot read part 2 with no context).

summary - he totally just cares if you pass your exams, nothing else. there is no other reason he keeps coming back to your convenience store.

genre - fluff, fem!college!reader x early season!spencer

warnings - school work, incorrect science stuff bc i’m just a girl

a/n - thank you all for the love on the first part!!! it was so surprising, especially since it was the first fic i’ve uploaded on this blog, i love y’all so much 🫶 thank you to those who suggested to make this a series, i would’ve totally made this a oneshot if not for y’all.

“you got any plans tonight spencer?”, morgan asked, taking his jacket off the back of his chair, passing spencer’s clean desk.

“uh, yeah actually.”

“really?” morgan stopped beside him, looking over his shoulder, a smirk crawling up, “with who?”

“moby dick.” spencer lied, morgan rolled his eyes.

“you’re no fun man.”

the doorbell rang, but after not seeing a certain skinny man for two nights, you’re mind starting to reset into the ‘studying grind mode’ it had been on before meeting spencer. stop thinking about spencer, keep studying.

three ladies dressed in short skirts, a white man with dreads (yikes), and a boy around 8 years old checked out with various items before a 3 minute cannelloni, bag of coffee, and an apple landed in front of you. before you could look up he spoke,

“how did your assignment go?” you jumped in your seat, nearly punching the man in the face before you placed a hand over your heart and sighed,

“good lord, you need to learn how to walk louder.”

spencer grinned. you scanned the cannelloni, he glanced at your hand still over your heart.

“rubatosis.”

“bless you?”

“the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.” you glanced up and saw him looking at your hand with a thin lipped awkward smile. you quickly put your hand down and continued scanning, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“we all know words. like… vellichor.” you spoke, packing his things in the same plastic bag he brought just little of a week ago. he tilted his head,

“the love of used bookstores?”

“i saw old books in your car.”

“you were looking in my car?” he put his hands in his pockets, as he looked out the window to his parked vehicle, not planning to pick up his bag of ‘groceries’ anytime soon. only then did you notice his tie was askew, his hair a little disheveled, his eyes a little sunken. the doorbell rung, a middle-aged balding man walking in behind spencer.

“i’m observant. $12.98.” he whipped out a slim wallet from his back pocket, flicking through some notes to pull out a $20. you ruffled through the register for his change as he remarked,

“you didn’t even look at the register.”

“don’t need to, you’re predictable.” you reply with a sneaky smile, causing spencer to copy reluctantly.

there was an awkward cough from behind him, the middle-aged man. spencer turned back to you after realising that he was in fact in a convenience store, and you were in fact the only worker there. “sorry sir, um. bye.” he took his bag, the thin lipped smile becoming nearly as predictable as his late-night groceries.

“bye.”

the tall, awkward, superbly smart man who smelt like wood didn’t show up for 5 nights. you thought there were only three possibilities at his absence: sickness, death, or he’s learnt how to cook.

you thought the next time you saw him you would ask more about him. in between studying, classes, and working, there wasn’t much time for a social life in your day to day. or maybe you wouldn’t. maybe he wasn’t showing up because he wasn’t really a regular, just a guy who needed quick meals, coffee, and apples on those specific nights. that’s insane, you are insane, get back to studying.

you almost didn’t recognise him the next night. same clothes, same height, same cologne, different face. dark circles under his eyes, permanent lines between his eyebrows, and a purple bruise on his left cheek. it was silent, he was the only customer at 11:30pm. you both made eye contact while you scanned his items, (same things plus a travel first aid kit) silently observing his expectant expression before you broke the silence.

“i’m not going to ask.”

“i got hit with the butt of a gun.” he said matter of factly.

you halted, coffee bag in hand, and stared at him, squinting. “…okay. actually i am gonna ask. who would hit a librarian with the butt of a gun?”

he scrunched his eyebrows and tilted his head, blinking, “i’m not a librarian. why do you think i’m a librarian?”

you packed his things, “smart, dressed posh, just general mysterious good looking librarian vibe,” he handed you a $20, “you remind me of a pipe cleaner with eyes.”

he raised an eyebrow, breaking eye contact, “not the first time i’ve heard that.”

you laughed, thinking it was a joke. his shoulders relaxed, the lines between his eyebrows softening. he grabbed his things, “bye, y/n.”

“bye, spencer.”

you were so close to finding out more about him. how the hell does a man that looks like that get into so much trouble?

you finish your shift, packing your textbooks and now flat laptop, locking everything up and turning the lights off. it was 1am. and, spencer was asleep in his car.

you looked around and put your jacket around your shoulders before jogging up to his driver’s window. his head was lulled to one side, mouth closed, chest rising softly. you knocked, and suddenly he was wide-eyed and searching for something.

“spencer? what are you still doing here?” you speak just loud enough for him to hear behind the window, which he promptly put down. you had a split second realisation how crazy this was. checking in on a regular, watching a regular sleep, feeling safe enough to approach a man’s car just because he buys the same thing every night he comes to the convenience store.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to fall asleep. i- uh,” he wiped his face, “sorry.”

you look at him with concern, “it’s okay, just.. try not to look like you were waiting for me to finish my shift to kidnap me next time, okay?”

he sighed and nodded. waving goodbye, you started down the street, your apartment only being a block away. over the music now playing in your ears, you heard a car drive away, mixing with your confused thoughts about who this regular really is and what he does for a living. and how does he look that good.

he was back the next night, same black slacks, with a purple sweater a shade darker than your own.

“hey spencer, before i scan your 3 minute bolognese, coffee and bag of apples-“

“how did you get that perfectly-“

“i’m going to ask this and you’re going to answer, okay?”

you know nothing about this man, but talking to him like a good friend felt natural now. though, you still tried to avoid over stepping it.

“-though you don’t actually have to answer it. you are a customer and i can’t force customers to do anything but- seeing as though you know i’m a college student and that i work at this convenience store and that i sort of suck at biology- sorry i’m rambling,” you take a breath, “where do you work?” you finish, spencer smiling slightly. you were surprised he didn’t cut you off to stop you, like everyone else did. he didn’t answer at first, the squeak of your shoe against the floor displayed your anxious tell.

“i can’t tell you.”

you sighed, rolling your eyes and packing his stuff, he already had a $20 ready in his hand. you took it, fingers brushing slightly against his. “you suck, and your so suspicious. i should just call security.”

he looked around, fiddling his fingers together, “you don’t have security.”

you pointed to a dead cockroach outside underneath the warm street light. “yes we do. why do you think he’s twitching? he’s insane, he’ll hurt you.”

he chuckled, the sound bringing a shade of pink to your cheeks. “you don’t work on weekends.”

you squinted, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and maybe a bit of fear. “what.”

“i came in on a weekend and a man was here.” he explained as you nodded.

“yeah, no i don’t. why?”

spencer gulped, taking his bag, and smiling awkwardly, “nothing, bye!”

you waved, confused. also stressed, you hadn’t worked on your psychology assignment while waiting for him to show up.

pt. 3

taglist- @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @wannabewolf @evysian @trashmonstersara

[nubuckleather]

23 and 36 for bucktommy? ❤️

Anon no idea if you’re even checking my blog anymore but I am so sorry this fill took so long! If you do happen to see this, I appreciate your patience. Hope you enjoy Bucktommy + wearing someone’s clothes + being pushed against a wall

His Evan

“Where’s my—oh, crap.” Evan said.

Tommy poked his head out of the en-suite. Evan was pacing up and down the foot of the bed, in his slacks and a crisp white dress shirt that he’d only buttoned up halfway. The contents of his suitcase were strewn across the hotel bedspread, like a tornado had blown through in the few minutes Tommy had been showering.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.

Evan looked over at him miserably. “My tie,” he said. “I forgot to pack a tie.”

Tommy choked down a small laugh. Only his Evan. “We flew out for a wedding and you forgot to pack a tie?”

“I had them all out,” Evan groaned. “I was trying to decide which one and I know that I decided on the green one but I must’ve never actually packed it. God, I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Tommy said automatically. He stopped himself just before going in for a hug—he was still a little damp from his shower and Evan’s shirt was pressed so nicely. Instead, he clasped Evan’s hands. Being reminded of their difference in hand size always seemed to pull a string out of Evan and make him a little looser. “It’s a mistake anyone could have made.”

“But we have to leave for the wedding in fifteen minutes!” Evan protested. “There’s not enough time to find a menswear store around here for a replacement, let alone a Target or something.”

“We don’t need a menswear store,” Tommy said. “I always pack a spare.”

“Oh,” Evan said, panic visibly deflating. “That’s handy.”

“I know,” Tommy winked, and turned to dig it out of his suitcase, which had escaped Hurricane Evan and was still entirely packed.

The spare he’d packed for this trip was a nice, simple pale blue dotted with subtle white dots that added just the right amount of texture. Tommy had bought it after an ex told him light blue brought out his eyes, but come to think of it, the same shade would bring out Evan’s eyes as well.

“Here,” he said. “This will look perfect on you. Do you need me to tie it?”

Evan blinked at him but didn’t respond, and didn’t reach out for the tie.

“Evan?” Tommy questioned.

“Um, I mean, I could tie it myself,” Evan stuttered out. “But if you didn’t mind–um, that would be fine.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t be any trouble at all. Give me a second to get myself dressed.”

Once Tommy was suited up, he turned back to Evan, who was holding the tie up in front of himself in the mirror, and blushing a brilliant pink at the apples of his cheeks and tips of his ears.

“It’s going to look so good on you, baby,” Tommy said. “Come here.”

He deftly knotted the tie around Evan’s neck while his boyfriend stood there, barely breathing. It was good to know that this was really doing it for both of them.

Tommy stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Look at you,” he said. “Looking so pretty, wearing my tie. It’s cause you’re mine. And everyone at the wedding is going to know that.”

Evan’s chest rose raggedly. Tommy had been right–the light blue brought out his large, round eyes perfectly.

They still had five minutes before they needed to leave for the venue. Screw it. Tommy grabbed Evan by the tie and manhandled him up against the wall, leaning in to capture his mouth with a bruising kiss. If it rumpled Evan’s shirt a little, that was okay. He’d be wearing a jacket, and he wouldn’t even get the chance to take it off at the reception. As soon as Tommy had the chance to congratulate the groom and say hello to his friends in the wedding party, they’d be coming back here so Tommy could strip his Evan down.

Maybe he’d leave the tie on. Just as a reminder of who Evan belonged to.