#entrepreneur grants

[nenelonomh]

something is brewing...

[afrotumble]

The full, frank story of a remarkable life’s journey—to the pinnacle of success as a basketball player, icon, and entrepreneur, to the depths of personal trauma and back, to a place of flourishing and peace—made possible above all by a family’s love

Grant Hill always had game. His choice of college was a subject of national interest, and his arrival at Duke University cemented the program’s arrival at the top. In his freshman year, he led the team to its first NCAA championship, and three championship appearances in four years. His Duke career produced some of the most iconic moments in college basketball history, and Coach K proved to be a lifelong mentor. Later, as one of the NBA’s best players and a new face of the Detroit Pistons franchise, Hill was the first person with the potential to give Michael Jordan a run for his money, not just as a player but as a brand. His $45 million rookie contract was almost the least of it. He turned down Nike for Fila, and soon Method Man and Tupac Shakur were wearing his shoes.

Hill writes candidly about all of it, including the transactional impermanence of life in the league and the isolation caused by his growing fame. His parents and friends helped ground him, and eventually he met a gifted musician named Tamia. The love he found with her and the arrival of their two beautiful daughters would be his rock as a brutal and mysterious injury sidelined him, coinciding with his wife’s own serious health struggles.

With openness and insight, Hill relates his entire path, including post-career highlights like his Hall of Fame induction, co-ownership of the Atlanta Hawks, the directorship of the USA Basketball Men’s National Team, and even a yearly gig calling the Final Four. Hill’s father, Calvin, used to tell him that there were always a lot of reasons but never any excuses, and Game is a distillation of a lifetime’s effort to understand the reasons—the good and the bad. At his hardest moments, Hill sought out wisdom from others, stories of inspiration and overcoming obstacles. Now, with Game, he has returned the favor.

Amazon Books.

[blckbuzinessdistrict]

Yo! What’s up, family. In honor of Black Business Month (and Barti being 100% Black-owned and operated), here are a few grants to try out 🔥 Slip us a few dollars when you win. 🫣

@lets_barti

[christinataft]

🎢 (Version 2 Movie) "1 milione di ricercati !!"

HOLLYWOOD FIXERS - Actress Grace Kelly & Cary Grant.

Alfred Hitchcock Scenes showing a Chartered Private Jet & 'the cat' is an Analogy

(Educational Purposes -- movies directed by Alfred & more)

// Hint: It is not the cat. Screenwriter & Director are brilliant at showing complexities and smokescreens. // Please See the Full Movies (#GraceKelly to Catch a Thief, Rear Window, and Dial M -- owned by their respective studios) to Understand and Learn about the coercive effect of .... It's very different without the FULL SEQUENCES REPORTED. To really learn that, please watch "Dial M" ☎️ At the same time, both the little man and the women with Wealth become like 'the cat' set up wrongfully as well.

Credits to: Cary Grant & Crishya (explaining how #PrivateJets are boarded and how they appear) youtube.com/watch?v=hzaGHW1wdqU

"1 milione di ricercati" #Italy - See Fuller Version (including fuller explanations) at: HOLLYWOOD FIXERS - Grace Kelly Movies & Alfred Hitchcock Blackmail https://vimeo.com/862288304

[destkelamedia]

10 Grant Application Mistakes Entrepreneurs Must Avoid in 2025

Learn the top mistakes entrepreneurs make in grant applications and how to improve your chances of success Introduction Securing funding through grants can be a game-changer for entrepreneurs looking to grow their businesses. However, the process is highly competitive, and even minor mistakes can cost you a valuable opportunity. Understanding the grant application mistakes entrepreneurs must…

[ascendnbs]

Investing in Women: Grants for Advancing Gender Equality and Women's Initiatives

Dive into the world of grants dedicated to supporting gender equality and women's initiatives. Learn about funding sources committed to empowering women in various fields, from education and healthcare to leadership and social entrepreneurship.

[formerly-serious]

The Year of Jubilee

2024 might possibly be THE MOST ACTIVE YEAR OF ART that I've ever attempted. Here's what I have going so far:

[boldbeginnings]

Tara Bosch: Transforming Candy, One SmartSweet at a Time

In a world inundated with sugary temptations, Tara Bosch emerges as a beacon of change, challenging the status quo of the confectionery industry. Through her innovative company, SmartSweets, Tara is revolutionizing the way we indulge in candy, offering a guilt-free alternative that satisfies cravings without compromising on taste or health. Join us as we explore Tara Bosch's journey and the impact of SmartSweets in transforming the candy landscape, one SmartSweet at a time.

A Visionary Entrepreneur: Tara Bosch's story begins with a simple yet profound realization: the need for better options in the candy aisle. Fueled by her own struggle with sugar cravings and a desire to make healthier choices, Tara embarked on a mission to reimagine sweets. Armed with determination and a passion for innovation, she founded SmartSweets with the goal of creating delicious treats that are low in sugar, high in fiber, and bursting with flavor.

The SmartSweets Difference: What sets SmartSweets apart is its commitment to crafting confections that prioritize health without sacrificing taste. Through meticulous research and development, Tara and her team have perfected a unique formula using plant-based ingredients and natural sweeteners to create candies that deliver on both fronts. From gummy bears to sour candies, each SmartSweet offers a guilt-free indulgence that delights the taste buds and nourishes the body.

Empowering Healthier Choices: At the heart of SmartSweets is a mission to empower consumers to make healthier choices without feeling deprived. By providing a satisfying alternative to traditional candy, Tara aims to shift perceptions and habits surrounding snacking. SmartSweets isn't just about selling candy—it's about fostering a community of wellness warriors who refuse to compromise on their health goals.

Building a Sweet Empire: Since its inception, SmartSweets has experienced exponential growth, garnering praise from consumers and industry insiders alike. From humble beginnings in Tara's kitchen to becoming a household name, the brand's journey is a testament to Tara's entrepreneurial spirit and unwavering dedication. Today, SmartSweets can be found on shelves across North America and beyond, inspiring millions to rethink their relationship with candy.

The Future of SmartSweets: As SmartSweets continues to expand its reach and offerings, Tara remains committed to her vision of transforming the candy industry for the better. With new products in development and a growing community of supporters, the future is bright for this innovative company. Tara's journey serves as a reminder that small changes can lead to big impacts, and that with determination and creativity, anything is possible.

Conclusion: Tara Bosch's dedication to transforming candy through SmartSweets is more than just a business venture—it's a movement towards a sweeter, healthier future. By challenging norms, embracing innovation, and prioritizing consumer well-being, Tara has redefined what it means to indulge in sweets. As we look ahead, let us celebrate Tara's achievements and continue to support the mission of SmartSweets: to make candy better for all, one SmartSweet at a time.

[naijabullet]

Global Innovation Fund for Organizations | How to Apply

Here’s an opportunity to apply for the Global Innovation Fund (GIF) which is designed to help organizations like yours grow. This Global Innovation Fund programme is a social impact-first investment vehicle that collaborates with mission-aligned development agencies, philanthropy, and other funders to identify and fund evidence-based innovations that have the potential to improve the lives of…

[cascadia-stack-blog]

Week of Thought Provoking Questions

Cascadia Stack, how do you, as a company, feel about Capitalism?

During the Bernie Sanders)Elizabeth Warren days of bliss, when we were all hopeful for the change we want to see (who is this partial quote referring to? I will give you 2 carbon tax credits if you are correct, down in the comments, please).... My thoughts then have waivered about capitalism through my college years. Then during my Bernie period, I hated, no, Hated capitalism. But, then it was my Fox-News-watching mother in Texas that reminded me that what I should rather feel is that I hate "extreme capitalists".

Stack has applied for fiscal sponsorship

I will find out in the next 2-4 weeks if I will be invited into this awesome family of wonderful projects doing really good work out there. The point is that making the decision to switch from a for-profit company to a non-profit was an act of "letting go". Because the work we do in the Bioregion or Eco-region as some may argue, is the work for the people but also by the people. It is the people who live laugh and love here that will bring resilience to the land that we all love and honor.

Stack is submitting a grant proposal for $985.

It is a national grant so the competition will be huge. They have several awards to give so I am hopeful.

Once we achieve fiscal sponsorship then we are a 501c3 by proxy and can begin fundraising.

Thx 4 reading. Also, don't forget to put your guess as to who my quote was referencing in the comments to get your 2 carbon tax credits. (More on that later.)

[youtube-asbcapitalloanfunding]

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Courtesy of ASB Capital Loan Funding

[thesecrettimes]

I was a Prisoner to my Business

When the economy crashed in 2008, I found out I was susceptible to all kinds of problems.  Over four hundred banks collapsed. Banks started shutting down and desperately tried to get cash. Even though I had never been late on a payment, the banks called in $50 million in loans on my real estate portfolio. That’s when I realized, “This doesn’t work.” Why did they call in my loans? Because I was too small. If I was big, they wouldn’t have asked for the money back. I needed to get big. Remember “Too big to fail?” I needed to get too big to fail. If it wasn’t for the crash in 2008, I wouldn’t have given up on the $3 million and gone to 10X. Most business owners are just operating their business and hoping it keeps growing. They can only take their business so far before the weight of growth starts to wear on them. They need to bring on people, processes, and systems, but they don’t know how to do it. The biggest issue with business owners is they don’t know how to create that type of value. They look at their business in reverse. They see where it’s at right now and where it started. I look at businesses differently. I look at where a business could be in 5 or 10 years. I heard a stat that 4 out of 5 public companies won’t exist in the next 5 years. It’s because they aren’t looking at their business the right way. I’m looking at where it could be and putting in place the pieces to capture that value. Let’s say a business is at $3 million and wants to go to $5 million. At first, the owner is going to try and figure it out by themselves. That is until they realize everything is breaking. I see companies spending fortunes on things that don’t move the needle. They spend all this money on things like Logos and mission statements. They make the whole growth cycle so complex and expensive. At the end of it, they can’t even articulate what the big-picture goal is or what their purpose is. Their employees don’t even understand their value proposition. When they grow, they become less efficient and less effective. Often, they become less profitable. They could end up making less money at $5 million than they did at $3 million. Scaling a business is something I had to learn by trial and error. Most business owners that achieve success go through a catastrophic scenario that either makes them or breaks them. That happened to me starting in 2008. I’ve figured out how to eliminate the need for that kind of catastrophic event. I’ve helped thousands of business owners grow and scale. There’s an actual science behind scaling your business. If I can build businesses that are worth billions of dollars, then I can show you exactly what I did. And I’m going to show you not only what I did to get where I am today. I’m also going to show you what I’m doing right now to grow even bigger than ever this year. And it’s all happening at the 10X Growth Conference. But there is something you need to know… 10X Growth Conference is Sold Out! That’s why I’ve opened a “backdoor” for you to get access to the #1 Business and Entrepreneur event on the planet. I asked my team to add a few extra seats. Now you can skip the line and shortcut the waiting list. All you have to do is click the link below to get started. Don’t put this off. This is going to be the best 10X Growth Conference in history. The most electrifying event in business is waiting for you. And for a limited time, you can get access at a huge savings. These extra tickets won’t last long. Depending on when you read this, they might already be gone. Here’s what I want you to do next. Click here to get your special ticket (at a massive savings) to 10X Growth Conference. This will take you to executive tickets, if you want any other level (VIP, Premier, or Diamond) send me a message and I'll make sure you get a seat. Be Great, Grant Cardone Read the full article

[simply-ivanka]

Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy: The DOGE Plan to Reform Government

Following the Supreme Court’s guidance, we’ll reverse a decades long executive power grab.

By Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy

Wall Street Journal

November 20, 2024

Our nation was founded on the basic idea that the people we elect run the government. That isn’t how America functions today. Most legal edicts aren’t laws enacted by Congress but “rules and regulations” promulgated by unelected bureaucrats—tens of thousands of them each year. Most government enforcement decisions and discretionary expenditures aren’t made by the democratically elected president or even his political appointees but by millions of unelected, unappointed civil servants within government agencies who view themselves as immune from firing thanks to civil-service protections.

This is antidemocratic and antithetical to the Founders’ vision. It imposes massive direct and indirect costs on taxpayers. Thankfully, we have a historic opportunity to solve the problem. On Nov. 5, voters decisively elected Donald Trump with a mandate for sweeping change, and they deserve to get it.

President Trump has asked the two of us to lead a newly formed Department of Government Efficiency, or DOGE, to cut the federal government down to size. The entrenched and ever-growing bureaucracy represents an existential threat to our republic, and politicians have abetted it for too long. That’s why we’re doing things differently. We are entrepreneurs, not politicians. We will serve as outside volunteers, not federal officials or employees. Unlike government commissions or advisory committees, we won’t just write reports or cut ribbons. We’ll cut costs.

We are assisting the Trump transition team to identify and hire a lean team of small-government crusaders, including some of the sharpest technical and legal minds in America. This team will work in the new administration closely with the White House Office of Management and Budget. The two of us will advise DOGE at every step to pursue three major kinds of reform: regulatory rescissions, administrative reductions and cost savings. We will focus particularly on driving change through executive action based on existing legislation rather than by passing new laws. Our North Star for reform will be the U.S. Constitution, with a focus on two critical Supreme Court rulings issued during President Biden’s tenure.

In West Virginia v. Environmental Protection Agency (2022), the justices held that agencies can’t impose regulations dealing with major economic or policy questions unless Congress specifically authorizes them to do so. In Loper Bright v. Raimondo (2024), the court overturned the Chevron doctrine and held that federal courts should no longer defer to federal agencies’ interpretations of the law or their own rulemaking authority. Together, these cases suggest that a plethora of current federal regulations exceed the authority Congress has granted under the law.

DOGE will work with legal experts embedded in government agencies, aided by advanced technology, to apply these rulings to federal regulations enacted by such agencies. DOGE will present this list of regulations to President Trump, who can, by executive action, immediately pause the enforcement of those regulations and initiate the process for review and rescission. This would liberate individuals and businesses from illicit regulations never passed by Congress and stimulate the U.S. economy.

When the president nullifies thousands of such regulations, critics will allege executive overreach. In fact, it will be correcting the executive overreach of thousands of regulations promulgated by administrative fiat that were never authorized by Congress. The president owes lawmaking deference to Congress, not to bureaucrats deep within federal agencies. The use of executive orders to substitute for lawmaking by adding burdensome new rules is a constitutional affront, but the use of executive orders to roll back regulations that wrongly bypassed Congress is legitimate and necessary to comply with the Supreme Court’s recent mandates. And after those regulations are fully rescinded, a future president couldn’t simply flip the switch and revive them but would instead have to ask Congress to do so.

A drastic reduction in federal regulations provides sound industrial logic for mass head-count reductions across the federal bureaucracy. DOGE intends to work with embedded appointees in agencies to identify the minimum number of employees required at an agency for it to perform its constitutionally permissible and statutorily mandated functions. The number of federal employees to cut should be at least proportionate to the number of federal regulations that are nullified: Not only are fewer employees required to enforce fewer regulations, but the agency would produce fewer regulations once its scope of authority is properly limited. Employees whose positions are eliminated deserve to be treated with respect, and DOGE’s goal is to help support their transition into the private sector. The president can use existing laws to give them incentives for early retirement and to make voluntary severance payments to facilitate a graceful exit.

Conventional wisdom holds that statutory civil-service protections stop the president or even his political appointees from firing federal workers. The purpose of these protections is to protect employees from political retaliation. But the statute allows for “reductions in force” that don’t target specific employees. The statute further empowers the president to “prescribe rules governing the competitive service.” That power is broad. Previous presidents have used it to amend the civil service rules by executive order, and the Supreme Court has held—in Franklin v. Massachusetts (1992) and Collins v. Yellen (2021) that they weren’t constrained by the Administrative Procedures Act when they did so. With this authority, Mr. Trump can implement any number of “rules governing the competitive service” that would curtail administrative overgrowth, from large-scale firings to relocation of federal agencies out of the Washington area. Requiring federal employees to come to the office five days a week would result in a wave of voluntary terminations that we welcome: If federal employees don’t want to show up, American taxpayers shouldn’t pay them for the Covid-era privilege of staying home.

Finally, we are focused on delivering cost savings for taxpayers. Skeptics question how much federal spending DOGE can tame through executive action alone. They point to the 1974 Impoundment Control Act, which stops the president from ceasing expenditures authorized by Congress. Mr. Trump has previously suggested this statute is unconstitutional, and we believe the current Supreme Court would likely side with him on this question. But even without relying on that view, DOGE will help end federal overspending by taking aim at the $500 billion plus in annual federal expenditures that are unauthorized by Congress or being used in ways that Congress never intended, from $535 million a year to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and $1.5 billion for grants to international organizations to nearly $300 million to progressive groups like Planned Parenthood.

The federal government’s procurement process is also badly broken. Many federal contracts have gone unexamined for years. Large-scale audits conducted during a temporary suspension of payments would yield significant savings. The Pentagon recently failed its seventh consecutive audit, suggesting that the agency’s leadership has little idea how its annual budget of more than $800 billion is spent. Critics claim that we can’t meaningfully close the federal deficit without taking aim at entitlement programs like Medicare and Medicaid, which require Congress to shrink. But this deflects attention from the sheer magnitude of waste, fraud and abuse that nearly all taxpayers wish to end—and that DOGE aims to address by identifying pinpoint executive actions that would result in immediate savings for taxpayers.

With a decisive electoral mandate and a 6-3 conservative majority on the Supreme Court, DOGE has a historic opportunity for structural reductions in the federal government. We are prepared for the onslaught from entrenched interests in Washington. We expect to prevail. Now is the moment for decisive action. Our top goal for DOGE is to eliminate the need for its existence by July 4, 2026—the expiration date we have set for our project. There is no better birthday gift to our nation on its 250th anniversary than to deliver a federal government that would make our Founders proud.

[ceoofsammonroe]

Cherry - Clay Beresford

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six |

Summary: Clay Beresford was one of Manhattan’s most notorious playboys. His name, and the money that came with it, garnered him a big reputation. Bored of the spotlight and in need of a distraction, Clay ventures to a hole-in-the-wall strip club in the Lower East Side. When he sees you walk out on that stage, he knows at once that you could be the one to rewrite his story.

Warnings: stripper!reader, playboy!Clay, reader works at a strip club and a lot of the story takes place there, descriptions of sex work, reader has a tragic backstory, mentions of abuse, mentions of homelessness, alcohol consumption, Clay doesn’t have heart problems, eventual smut, pining, angst, Clay has a savior complex, reader doesn’t know how to have non-transactional relationships.

Playlist / Masterlist

Clay Beresford nursed a glass of whiskey as he tried to tune out the droning of yet another young entrepreneur giving him a business pitch.

He went through the motions — nodding and humming, asking the occasional question, taking the knock-off business card — in hopes that they would be satisfied and leave him to his night.

All he wanted was to have a drink and relax, but everywhere he went he was bombarded by people who saw him as an opportunity instead of a person.

He supposed it came with the territory of carrying the Beresford name. He’d inherited an empire from his father, vile as he was, and essentially walked around with dollar signs flashing above his head.

He wasn’t ungrateful for his life, nor did he stray away from the benefits it gave him, he was just…frustrated. He never knew if the people in his life were there because they wanted to know him or because they wanted to know his money. More often than not, it was the latter.

He needed a distraction — something that made him feel a sense of normalcy for once. He finished the last of his whiskey, setting the empty glass down on the marble bar top. He offered a polite goodbye to the bartender and the scrambling businessman before grabbing his coat and walking out of the building.

His driver was already waiting for him outside and he climbed into the backseat of the black SUV, mumbling vague directions as he rubbed at his temples. The driver gave him an odd look in the rear view mirror, but didn’t question it as he drove off toward the Lower East Side.

Clay didn’t venture to this area of Manhattan often — hardly ever, actually — but, when he did, nobody ever noticed him. They had their own lives to deal with and didn’t need to be obsessed with his.

Maybe that was what was drawing him here this time. He wanted to be able to slink into the shadows, just for a little while.

As they drove, Clay watched the city pass from the car window. He cocked his head in interest as they passed a joint with a bright red sign flashing above it.

The Silk Rose.

A gentleman’s club. He snorted, doubting there were any gentlemen in there at all. Still, his interest was piqued. Maybe a night in a sleazy club watching girls dance around in lingerie was exactly what he needed.

He told his driver to park up the street a bit, careful not to draw too much attention to himself. With his hands in his pockets, he kept his head down as he made his way over to the entrance.

The windows and doors were blacked out, preventing any prying eyes from peeking in.

Perfect, he thought. This was just the kind of privacy he was looking for.

He grabbed the door handle, glancing up at the tagline written above his head.

Come on in and see Sal’s Dancing Girls!

The night had been slower for you than usual.

There were the regulars, sitting in their normal spots, but you’d barely broken $250 and hadn’t gotten a single private room booking. Granted, private dances certainly weren’t your favorite part of the job, but they were what made the big bucks. You could handle a creep or two if it meant your bills were paid.

You sat in the dressing room backstage, touching up your makeup and rubbing at your feet that were from the tall heels you wore as you waited for your next set. The area was bustling with the other dancers, all in different states of undress and disarray.

You didn’t mind what you did. You liked dancing — although you’d thought you’d be pursuing dance in a different direction than where you’d ended up. You weren’t forced into this life, like some of the others. You were here by choice. It just maybe wasn’t your first choice.

You were confident in it, though. You knew how to work a room. You knew how to manipulate sleazy men into emptying their wallets. You were always in control.

You certainly didn’t need anyone to save you.

You heard the last song of the previous dancer’s set end and took one more look in the mirror. You removed your robe and adjusted the skimpy costume before taking a deep breath and walking toward the back of the stage.

Showtime.

Clay sat at the bar, prying his glass up from the sticky table and taking a sip as one of the dancers exited the stage. He watched as the workers swept up the money that had been thrown, gathering it into a bag before bringing it to the back.

She’d been fine. Her set was pretty par for the course as far as Clay could expect. He’d still found himself zoning out or focusing more on his drink than her dancing.

After the stage was fully cleared off, the lights dimmed to a deep red as a new song started. It was like the energy in the room shifted. Suddenly, everyone was waiting with bated breath as the next dancer took the stage.

Clay sat up straighter in his seat, setting his glass down as the spotlight hit the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He was captivated, mesmerized. Even the way you walked was enticing. He leaned forward, hanging on to every move you made.

He wasn’t the only one, either. You had the entire room wrapped around your finger.

Clay watched as you worked the stage, feeling the energy from the crowd. Then, you began to dance.

He felt breathless. His heart was pounding beneath his chest. The way you moved was like a song in and of itself. You were the music. Your movements told a story and he was very, very curious to unravel it.

You fell into the rhythmic routine, working the stage like you owned it — and, in that moment, you did. The lights warmed your skin as you moved your body to the sensual beat of the music, putting on a tantalizing show of removing bits of your costume until you were left in lingerie.

You scanned the audience, as you normally did, looking for anyone who seemed easy to reel in. People would be surprised at how many extra tips you get when the lonely people in the crowd think you’ve noticed them. However, this time, your eyes landed on one man in particular.

You hadn’t seen him at this club before, but he looked vaguely familiar — and devilishly handsome. He seemed to be transfixed on you, so you let your eyes stay locked with his.

The crystalline blue pulled you in, but there was something else about the way he was looking at you. You were used to stares of lust, envy, even ownership — but he was gazing at you with pure interest. The kind of interest that went beyond physical attraction. He wasn’t just watching you take your clothes off. He was watching you dance.

As the music of your last song faded out you gave the crowd a grin and a wave, winking at the handsome stranger before exiting the stage.

You walked back to your vanity, plopping down in the chair with a tired huff. One of the staff members brought you the bag with your tips and you sorted through it, counting the bills. It wasn’t bad, but it could’ve been better.

You groaned, tired of the slow night, and glanced at the clock. There was only a little over an hour left in your shift.

“What’s wrong, babycakes?”

You turned your head to face the dancer whose vanity was next to yours. She had her chin propped on her hand as she looked at you, her bright pink hair pinned to the top of her head.

Frenchie was the name she went by. She was the only dancer that ever had actual conversations with you. She was nice, if a bit eccentric, and you were grateful for the friendly face.

“Just a slow night, French,” you sighed, shrugging your shoulders.

She scoffed, taking a drag of a cigarette as she said, “Shit, doll. If it’s a slow night for you then it’s a wasteland for the rest of us.”

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, please,” Frenchie sigh, playfully rolling her eyes. “You’re the fan favorite, babes. Everyone here knows it. That’s why I’m the only one who talks to you.”

You swatted your hand at her with a laugh, shaking your head as you smiled. You spotted your boss, Sal, walking up behind you in your mirror and you tilted your head back to look at him.

“Someone’s requesting you,” he said, gruff as always.

“See?” Frenchie said, sticking her tongue out at you.

You stuck your tongue out back at her before turning back to Sal. “Who is it?”

“Does it matter? He’s paying,” he grunted, shrugging as he rolled his eyes. “It’s room four.”

Sal walked out of the dressing room as you touched up your hair and makeup, glancing over at Frenchie as she prepared to go do her set on stage.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” she said, smacking your ass as she walked past you.

“Knock ‘em dead, French,” you called out after her, laughing softly.

You took a deep, steadying breath as you walked down the long hallway, readying yourself to face whatever greaseball would be waiting for you. This was where you made the most money, it just also happened to be the part you hated the most.

You stopped outside of the door labeled with the big number 4 and gave a silent plea to whatever was out there that this would go by smoothly.

To your delight, you didn’t see any of the sleazy regulars when you opened the door. Instead, you saw the handsome stranger who had been watching you so intently during your set.

A sultry smile pulled at your lips as you locked eyes with him. You weren’t supposed to enjoy these sessions — this was work, after all, and you were doing a job — but it didn’t hurt when the clients looked this pretty.

“I was hoping it was you that requested me,” you said, walking into the room with a sway of your hips.

It was true, but you would’ve said it regardless. That was the job. Make them feel seen and important so that they handed over more money.

The handsome stranger’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at you, seeming to relax into the moment.

“I’m happy not to let you down, then,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Please, join me.”

He gestured over to a bottle of champagne resting in a bucket of ice by the plush leather couch. His gaze lingered on you as you walked into the room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He felt a sense of excitement building within him — an anticipation that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Your eyes almost widened. Champagne? You were lucky to get so much as a polite introduction when you worked these rooms. You hadn’t ever had a customer provide refreshments. By the looks of the bottle, it wasn’t the cheap kind either.

Who was this man and why did he feel so familiar?

“So, tell me,” he said, pouring some of the champagne into a glass and offering it to you, “what’s your name?”

You kept up your performance facade, taking the glass from him and batting your lashes.

“It’s in poor form to ask personal details of the dancers,” you tutted, a teasing smile adorning your lips. “You can call me Cherry.”

All of the dancers had names that you went by. Yours just so happened to be Cherry. The name held a certain significance to you and you were grateful for the protection of identity — in more ways than one.

“Ah, Cherry,” he smiled, the name sitting nicely on his tongue. “I like that. I’m Clay.”

He paused for a moment, studying you as if he was waiting for some kind of reaction. When he didn’t get one, he nodded with a small smile and relaxed into the couch.

“I hope you enjoy the champagne,” he said, bringing his own glass to his lips. “I thought it might make you more comfortable while we…talk.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, taking a sip of the delicious bubbles. People who rented these rooms didn’t usually want to talk. They wanted you to dance and wanted to see how far they could bend the rules.

There were certain rules that you and the customers had to follow. Neither the dancers nor the customers could be fully nude, the customers and the dancers could not touch each other, and under no circumstances could the dancers maintain personal or intimate relationships with the customers.

Clay seemed…different. He was tempting in all of the wrong ways. You knew you had to tread carefully.

“So, Cherry,” Clay began, throwing an arm across the back of the couch, “what do you like to do for fun?”

A playful smirk pulled at your lips as you asked, “Is this not fun?”

Clay’s eyes lit up at your question and he laughed — a deep, rich sound.

“Oh, it’s definitely fun,” he said, smiling, “but I was thinking more along the lines of getting to know you. I’d love to learn more about you.” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “If you’re willing to share, of course.”

Getting to know you? This guy books a stripper to get to know her?

“Respectable,” you nodded. “Most people just book me to see how close they can get to touching me. You can’t, by the way. Touch me, that is. It’s strictly against the rules.”

You set your champagne glass down on the table and walked over to the stereo to turn on some slow, sensual music.

“You paid for an hour long dance, so I’d be doing a poor job if I didn’t comply,” you said, sauntering back over to him.

You should’ve just started dancing and stuck to your job, but his pretty eyes were so intrigued that you couldn’t say no to him.

“How about this,” you offered, “you ask questions while I dance. Deal?”

Clay’s eyes gleamed with delight as he nodded, clearly pleased with himself.

“Deal,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Oh, and Cherry?”

He set his glass down before leaning back into the couch with a grin.

“I have to warn you, I’m not very good at following rules.”

You placed your hands on the cushion behind his head, leaning over him as you swayed your hips.

“If you want to keep the session going, you’d better be,” you whispered, warning in your tone. “Otherwise, the fun would be over. So keep your hands by your sides, pretty boy.”

His eyes flashed with amusement as he raised an eyebrow, but he obediently placed his hands at his sides.

“Oh, I’ll be good,” he promised. “I wouldn’t want the fun to stop.”

He trailed his gaze over your figure, watching as you danced.

“Back to my original question, Cherry,” he said, flicking his eyes back up to yours. “What do you like to do when you aren’t…dancing?”

You stood up again, seductively twirling and swaying to the beat as you thought about the question.

You weren’t sure how much you wanted to reveal to him. He was still just a pretty face — a very tempting pretty face. He wasn’t the first person to come in here with delusions of grandeur. You didn’t want him to reel you in.

“I like to read,” you said, rolling your hips. “I like to watch cheesy romance movies, and I’m a damn good cook.”

His eyes sparkled with interest as you answered, his gaze never leaving yours.

“A woman of many talents,” he murmured, a soft smile on his face. He leaned forward slightly as he asked, “What kind of romance movies do you like to watch?”

“The ones with every cliche in the book,” you grinned, swirling around to the music. “I want the sappy love confessions, the angsty miscommunication, and the big fight that leads to the romantic kiss in the rain.”

You leaned over him again, rotating your hips as you bent down to whisper in his ear, “and it’s gotta have a good sex scene.”

Clay’s gaze darkened at your words, his breathing quickening. He felt a surge of desire course through his veins and he had to force himself to remain still, to not reach out and touch you.

He paused for a moment, then asked, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

You laughed softly in his ear, leaning back up as you continued dancing.

“That kind of thing only exists in fiction, pretty boy,” you said, trying not to sound bitter.

He smiled, cocking his head to the side with a small laugh.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice dripping with skepticism, “but I think there’s something to be said for the idea that two people can just click, you know?”

He leaned toward, his eyes locked onto yours as he said, “I think maybe we click, Cherry.”

You scoffed, an amused smile etched into your features as you rolled your eyes.

“Do you know how many people come here and claim they fell in love with me? People pay me to give them a show, and I deliver. It’s all transactional. I’m in the business of temporarily filling the vacant holes in people’s lives.”

Clay’s eyes never left yours, his expression tense with something that bordered understanding.

“Yes, I do,” he said, his voice serious. “I’m not naive enough to think that we’re anything more than what we are here tonight…but sometimes, Cherry, I think people need a little bit of fantasy. Just for tonight, let’s forget about life and reality outside of these walls. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company, okay?”

A pretty face that spoke pretty words.

Damn him.

“Fine,” you obliged, smiling despite yourself. “Still, no touching, but you can carry on with your questions.”

“Excellent,” he said, his eyes sparkling with triumph as his mouth curled into a satisfied grin. “What’s the most memorable performance you’ve ever given?”

You smiled, playfully, and responded, “Seventh grade ballet recital, hands down. Not a dry eye in the house.”

“Seventh grade, huh?” Clay chuckled. “I never would’ve guessed. What made it so memorable?”

A fond smile graced your lips as you let your mind reminisce on a memory you didn’t usually let yourself wander to.

“I used to have really terrible stage fright. I’d get under the lights and I’d just freeze. I had been working really hard all year on this solo and I got selected to perform in the recital. Right as I went on stage, I forgot every piece of choreography. I was so panicked, I wanted to run off the stage and hide. Then, I heard the music start and I just…danced. I let the music move me. To this day, it’s still the freest I’ve ever felt.”

You shook your head, instantly regretting the vulnerability.

“Never mind that, though,” you laughed. “You think everything is world changing when you’re that age.”

Clay’s eyes softened, his expression becoming more contemplative. “I think that’s beautiful,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “The fact that you were able to find freedom in that moment, despite your fears and doubts…it’s truly inspiring.” He paused, his gaze lingering on yours. “I think that’s what makes human connection so powerful. We can be ourselves, without apology, and find freedom in that vulnerability.” The skin by his eyes crinkled as he smiled again. “Speaking of which, Cherry…do you believe everyone has a story worth telling?”

“I think there are stories to be found everywhere, if you look hard enough,” you shrugged, refilling his champagne glass.

“Ah, a philosopher, too,” he smirked, his voice ripe with amusement. “I think you might be the most fascinating person I’ve met in a very long time.”

He thought for a moment as he took the champagne glass, then said, “Would you like to hear a story, Cherry?”

“A dance for a story,” you pondered. “I think that’s a fair transaction.”

Clay’s eyes lit up with excitement as he sipped his drink. “Excellent,” he grinned, settling back into the couch. “I’ve always loved the story of Romeo and Juliet. The passion, the tragedy, the love that consumed them both. Imagine if Romeo and Juliet lived in modern times, Cherry. Would they still fall in love? Would they still meet the same fate?”

“I think Romeo and Juliet were two horny teenagers, too naive for their own good,” you smirked, swaying to the music.

Your movements absentmindedly transitioned from sensual to holding the essence of his storytelling as he spoke.

“Ah, but that’s what makes their story so tragic,” he countered, shaking his head. “Their naivety is what drives them to take such reckless risks, to chase after a love that seems impossible. Yet, despite the danger, despite the obstacles, despite the fact that they come from different worlds…they still manage to find each other, to connect on a deeper level. Don’t you think that’s what makes love so intoxicating?”

He paused, his gaze searching yours before he laughed softly and said, “Or am I just a hopeless romantic?”

“You’re hopeless, alright,” you joked, despite the fact that his words managed to pang your heart.

You did not fall in love. You didn’t even think about love. One stranger’s pretty words weren’t going to change that. This was transactional.

His stories were so compelling, though…

You leaned over him again, bringing your face as close to his as you could without making contact.

“You know what I think?” You whispered, glancing down at his lips. “I think our time is up.”

The clock rang, signaling that the hour was over. You straightened up and stepped back, giving him one last wink.

“Thanks for the story, pretty boy.”

Clay’s face seemed to fall with disappointment as you pulled away from him, but his voice remained smooth and charming.

“Until next time, Cherry.”

As you left the room and returned to your vanity, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. His words lingered with you, throwing you off balance.

You gathered your things and changed into your regular clothing, clocking out at the back door. As you were about to leave, Sal stopped you and handed you a wad of cash.

“Here,” he said, “for the private room.”

You’d been so caught up in the moment with Clay that you hadn’t even stopped to think about the fact that you didn’t get a single dollar from him.

You thumbed through the cash, expecting to see the usual earnings of maybe $50 or so. Your eyes widened as you counted out $1,000.

He’d tipped you that much? What kind of man was he?

Normally, you didn’t any of the customers a second thought once you were away from work, but this one wouldn’t worm his way out of your head.

Damn these men and their pretty words and ideas of love and fate. That was a life you had left behind.

Once you’d returned home to your apartment, you showered the day off of your skin and changed into more comfortable clothing. You made yourself a quick dinner before settling into your couch and flicking the television on.

The screen lit up in the middle of some story on a celebrity gossip channel. You were only half listening as you ate your food, your mind still reeling from the events that had occurred with the handsome stranger. You couldn’t shake that something still felt so familiar about him.

Your ears perked up at the sound of a name that struck a chord deep within you. Your jaw dropped as you glanced up at the screen, seeing those dazzling blue eyes and his crinkled smile.

The reporters voice rang out about the youngest CEO Manhattan had ever seen as your heart sank to your feet.

Holy shit.

The handsome stranger was Clay fucking Beresford.

[cozymoko]

Ohh!!! Can i have fruitykawa with a reader who's kind of insecure about their relationship with him? Like,yes she's aware that they are married and all,but Fruity is such a wealthy (and handsome) man that surely there are alot of women around him. It makes her feel upset and tries to distance herself from him.

🌕 anon

ALWAYS, MY BELOVED

It's been a while since I updated. Shoutout to my homie, 🟡 anon for this request. Kinda got burnt out at the end, but I tried my best. Enjoy~!

Pairing: Hachiro Furukawa x Female! Reader (1.9k words)

Format: Headcanons, mini scenarios

WARNING(S): yandere themes, jealousy, insecurity, mentions of cutting (plastic surgery).

Synopsis: Hachiro Furukawa, my oc, with a wife who's insecure due to him being so handsome! (≧∇≦)/

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

NAVIGATION 🍮

Being WEDDED to the BEST is not for the weak-spirited. You had to appear stronger — better than the average woman so that they wouldn't dare question the legitimacy of your place. With your status, a ring costing nothing less than a fortune would never be enough. 

Your marriage had become public only a few years ago. Due to Hachiro's wishes. Yet that didn't seem to stop many promiscuous women from testing their luck. You bit back the unladylike words bubbling in your throat as they approached him. Fluttering their long lashes and flashing their pearly white teeth.

Models, lawyers, entrepreneurs: the party was bustling with so many. For a moment, you felt like nothing more than a pretty little accessory.

“Mr. Furukawa, how nice of you to make an appearance!” The host's eyes shift to you, thick and clouded with disdain. “It's a joy you brought the misses with you this evening.” The snarkiness of his tone was palpable. It seems the host wasn't exactly a fan of you, but then again, who was? After all, no one bothered to hide their curious gazes when Furukawa was not within earshot. But all you could do was hold your husband's arm just a little tighter.

The women especially.

"Is that Furukawa? Isn't he just dashing!"

"Wah~! He's even taller than I imagined!"

"Do you think he'll drink with me?"

Tightly sewn dresses, embracing the ladies that adorned them. Various warm shades painted lightly across their lips. Bouncy twists and swirls curled into their hair. Bedroom eyes peering over the many men scattered across the room; married or not. It's safe to say you weren't exactly pleased that your husband was one of the few.

You often hid yourself behind layers of lovely fabrics and excellent posture, in hopes of maintaining your modesty. In your eyes, it only seemed right that you matched the appearance and aura of that of your Husband. Though it seems each and every day was a torturous test of your self-restraint.

Nonetheless, you were never one to lose your composure. A straight face was essential in any type of business setting. Sure, you weren't as deadpan as Furukawa, but you could definitely play the "cold wife" role perfectly.

RECENTLY, you've had QUITE THE OBSESSION with FASHION. You have encountered plenty of upcoming entrepreneurs, many of who you've managed to befriend. One of your closest ones is a fashion designer.

She would soon be introducing her new line of work after months of a troublesome hiatus. So, after pulling a little bit if strings, you were able to help her out. By strings, you mean asking Hachiro for some assistance. With his support of the project, people were bound to come and see the clothes. Granted, he was skeptical of your request, it didn't take him long to break and give you what you want.

That evening, the two of you attended an induction ceremony for the company's new clothing line. Hachiro had no reason to attend, but the grin on your face was much too difficult to resist. Just knowing that he made you happy warms his heart immensely. You were the cutest.

But, all good things, of course, come to an end.

“Oh, my! Look who decided to grace us with his presence.” A woman with rosy lips approached the two of you, swaying her hips a bit too much for your liking. “Hachiro, dear, it's been so long since I've seen you!”

Even other women didn't dare to acknowledge you, especially in the company of Hachiro himself. He didn't take kindly to people dismissing your presence. But this girl, definitely had some guts.

“Inoue,” he hums languidly, watching her in masked disdain. “I'd rather you not address me so informally in such a public setting.”

That's right, KAMIKO INOUE, one of the top models that had recently taken Japan by storm. You were expecting her appearance after Hachiro's announced sponsorship, but her rudeness surprised you a bit. Especially her addressing your husband as though they were closer than friends.

You scoff, looking away from the two. Seeing how you'd much rather watch them set up than listen to Inoue's mindless flirting. Hachiro placed his hand on the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles into your skin. But you couldn't dare look into his tender gaze, knowing of the possessiveness bursting within your chest.

She giggled, “How silly of you, Hachiro!” She reached her manicured hand out to grab his free arm just for him to grab her by the wrist.

“Please refrain from touching me so familiarly, Inoue. I'm a married man, and I'd be simply overjoyed if you would respect that.” He gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his steely eyes, before pulling you flush against his chest.

A bright red bloomed across your skin at his affection. Hachiro never showed too much PDA. "You have a photo shoot to attend to, no?" He asks coldly. "Me and my wife will be sure to cheer you on from the sidelines.

That soiled your mood for the evening. Snatching the genuine smile from your lips and replacing it with one faker than the plastic on that whore's skin. For once in your life you were truly feeling vulnerable.

YOU had CONTEMPLATED GOING UNDER the KNIFE more times than YOU CARE to ADMIT. Not for your own pleasure, but the sake of your sanity. You didn't know what you'd do if you saw another beautiful woman talk to your husband.

Even in your youth, he was the center of attention. He had captured the hearts of many girls from various levels of wealth. You would know as you were one of them. But you were in no way richer or as elegant as the others who approached him. So why did he choose you? You asked yourself.

That night you had taken the guest room. It felt cold and quiet. Absent of the usual scratching of pens and occasional shuffling of papers you had grown accustomed to. The pleasant rumble of his chest as he attempts to entertain you whilst working. But you couldn't bring yourself to lay by his side with such heinous thoughts roaming your mind. You were able to fall into a long, dreamless slumber. But not without the company of a few heavy tears and a single question.

Were you selfish?

From that day, you didn't bother answering his calls, whether it be morning or dawn. You didn't bother visiting him during those long hours he slaved away at the company, though many times you truly wanted to. You didn't bother to allow your personal driver to pick you up, and if he tried, you merely snuck out of the house.

Any and everything reminded you of him, and that alone rendered you to tears. While he was away, you didn't allow yourself to be another burden pestering him on his business trip. You couldn't allow it.

AND IT WAS ALL DRIVING HIM CRAZY.

THE FLIGHT HOME was DREADFULLY SILENT. Aside from the tapping of someone's sleek dress shoes. Hachiro had not so much as uttered a word since boarding the plane, nor did he intend on it. For if he did, nothing kind would leave his mouth. Perhaps a, "hurry up," or two — or three. But all of it was for the sake of his sanity.

Hachiro needed his wife, desperately.

You slip through the large double doors, entering your bedroom with wary steps. It was quiet, as expected, and without your presence, it felt almost dead. A week had passed since you last drowned in the warm duvet. A week had passed since you relished in his scent nestled deep within its silk. And oh how you missed the smell of him. Finally, at peace, your shoulders dropped. You took a seat on the edge of your bed. Under your confident front, you were only one person. One person with one mind; though you usually had two. Hachiro and your own. But your pride didn't allow you to confine in the man you loved. What were you scared of? Being shamed, or perhaps laughed at — scolded? Though none of it seemed likely, you could not shake the feeling of embarrassment that held you on a tight leash. CREAK! You jumped, startled by the sudden weight pressed against your back. "Thank God you're safe," your heart swelled at the sound of his voice. The voice of not a stranger, but a lover — a partner. Hachiro grabs you by the chin and lifts your face up. You quickly recoil away in shame, praying he didn't get a peek at your messy face. The need to prove yourself had increased tenfold, you couldn't allow yourself to falter in his presence. “look at me, [Name]," he whispered softy. Hachiro lifts your head once more, swiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks. "You're crying? Tell me what's troubling you. I can help you, [Name]."

And just like that, you broke. Loud, anguished sobs tore through your throat. Your stomach fluttered at the familiar smell of citrus and mint. You couldn't get enough of it. His arms were warm and comforting, and you couldn't deny the safety you felt by his side. His embrace was stronger than anything you've ever known, as if holding him wasn't enough, you held him as though he were your lifeline. It wasn't your intention to tell him, but you just couldn't help it. Each and every thought was placed on the table. The insecurities that you felt bestowed before him. The people you despised and envied slipped past your lips without thinking. All while Hachiro cooed sweet nothings in your ear, promising you his loyalty until his last breath. “God, you're so beautiful,” he whispered, running his thumb through the swollen flesh of your eyes. His usually cold eyes burned with something you couldn't possibly describe. “I can hardly control myself sometimes.” You stared at him dumbfounded — in utter disbelief. His glasses must've been dirty, you thought. Your hair was a literal wreck. And the past couple of weeks had not been too kind to your skin. Small breakouts peppering your cheeks from stress; bags that could carry at least a ton of sorrow nestled beneath your eyes. Surely his vision was just a little blurry. But upon further inspection, you couldn't spot not a spec of dirt on his lenses. Upon your lack of response, he hums, leaning in a bit closer. “I'm serious, dear.” You huff, burying your face into his neck as your skin takes on a feverish shade of red. Damn him for being so attractive. You felt like a high schooler all over again. Smiling softly, you held him closer. “You're the best, Hachi.”

Hachiro sat awake by your side, gently stroking your back with easy motions. His lips had found themselves on your warm skin. And his heart beating vastly at the things you had confessed to him. The possessiveness you had experienced for him. The jealousy and anguish that had consumed you on his behalf.

Of course, he never wanted to see you upset, but seeing how you value him makes him a bit selfish. Just seeing you made him snap a little on the inside. His rational mind fought for control over his need to have you, to prove his love to you. But he decided against it. He would be sure to show you how deeply his love runs on a later occasion. But for now, he settled for cradling you in his arms. Promising to take all those bitter emotions away from you.

“Good morning, Japan!” Shouted the host. “It's come to our attention that Ms. heartthrob Kamiko Inoue has quit the modeling industry after a life-threatening accident!”

“...HUH!?”

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