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reasonsforhope · 9 months ago

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"Minnetonka first started selling its “Thunderbird” moccasins in 1965. Now, for the first time, they’ve been redesigned by a Native American designer.

It’s one step in the company’s larger work to deal with its history of cultural appropriation. The Minneapolis-based company launched in the 1940s as a small business making souvenirs for roadside gift shops in the region—including Native American-inspired moccasins, though the business wasn’t started or run by Native Americans. The moccasins soon became its biggest seller.

[Photo: Minnetonka]

Adrienne Benjamin, an Anishanaabe artist and community activist who became the company’s “reconciliation advisor,” was initially reluctant when a tribal elder approached her about meeting with the company. Other activists had dismissed the idea that the company would do the work to truly transform. But Benjamin agreed to the meeting, and the conversation convinced her to move forward.

“I sensed a genuine commitment to positive change,” she says. “They had really done their homework as far as understanding and acknowledging the wrong and the appropriation. I think they knew for a long time that things needed to get better, and they just weren’t sure what a first step was.”

Pictured: Lucie Skjefte and son Animikii [Photo: Minnetonka]

In 2020, Minnetonka publicly apologized “for having benefited from selling Native-inspired designs without directly honoring Native culture or communities.” It also said that it was actively recruiting Native Americans to work at the company, reexamining its branding, looking for Native-owned businesses to partner with, continuing to support Native American nonprofits, and that it planned to collaborate with Native American artists and designers.

Benjamin partnered with the company on the first collaboration, a collection of hand-beaded hats, and then recruited the Minneapolis-based designer Lucie Skjefte, a citizen of the Red Lake Nation, who designed the beadwork for another moccasin style and a pair of slippers for the brand. Skjefte says that she felt comfortable working with the company knowing that it had already done work with Benjamin on reconciliation. And she wasn’t a stranger to the brand. “Our grandmothers and our mothers would always look for moccasins in a clutch kind of situation where they didn’t have a pair ready and available to make on their own—then they would buy Minnetonka mocs and walk into a traditional pow wow and wear them,” she says. Her mother, she says, who passed away in 2019, would have been “immensely proud” that Skjefte’s design work was part of the moccasins—and on the new version of the Thunderbird moccasin, one of the company’s top-selling styles.

[Photo: Minnetonka]

“I started thinking about all of those stories, and what resonated with me visually,” Skjefte says. The redesign, she says, is much more detailed and authentic than the previous version. “Through the redesign and beading process, we are actively reclaiming and reconnecting our Animikii or Thunderbird motif with its Indigenous roots,” she says. Skjefte will earn royalties for the design, and Minnetonka will also separately donate a portion of the sale of each shoe to Mni Sota Fund, a nonprofit that helps Native Americans in Minnesota get training and capital for home ownership and entrepreneurship.

Some companies go a step farther—Manitobah Mukluks, based in Canada, has an Indigenous founder and more than half Indigenous staff. (While Minnetonka is actively recruiting more Native American workers, the company says that employees self-report race and it can’t share any data about its current number of Indigenous employees.) Beyond its own line of products, Manitobah also has an online Indigenous Market that features artists who earn 100% of the profit for their work.

White Bear Moccasins, a Native-owned-and-made brand in Montana, makes moccasins from bison hide. Each custom pair can take six to eight hours to make; the shoes cost hundreds of dollars, though they can also be repaired and last as long as a lifetime, says owner Shauna White Bear. In interviews, White Bear has said that she wants “to take our craft back,” from companies like Minnetonka. But she also told Fast Company that she doesn’t think that Minnetonka, as a family-owned business, should have to lose its livelihood now and stop making moccasins.

The situation is arguably different for other fashion brands that might use a Native American symbol—or rip off a Native American design completely—on a single product that could easily be taken off the market. Benjamin says that she has also worked with other companies that have discontinued products.

She sees five steps in the process of reconciliation. First, the person or company who did wrong has to acknowledge the wrong. Then they need to publicly apologize, begin to change behavior, start to rebuild trust, and then, eventually, the wronged party might take the step of forgiveness. Right now, she says, Minnetonka is in the third phase of behavior change. The brand plans to continue to collaborate with Native American designers.

The company can be an example to others on how to listen and build true relationships, Benjamin says. “I think that’s the only way that these relationships are going to get any better—people have to sit down and talk about it,” she says. “People have to be real. People have to apologize. They have to want to reconcile with people.”

The leadership at Minnetonka can also be allies in pushing other companies to do better. “My voice is important at the table as an Indigenous woman,” Benjamin says. “Lucie’s voice is important. But at tables where there’s a majority of people that aren’t Indigenous, sometimes those allies’ voices are more powerful in those spaces, because that means that they’ve signed on to what we’re saying. The power has signed on to moving forward and we agree with ‘Yes, this was wrong.’ That’s the stuff that’s going to change [things] right there.”"

-via FastCompany, February 7, 2024

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watchmegetobsessed · 6 months ago

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WING IT

A/N: we are slowly getting more content, lets just hope something drops soon!

WORD COUNT: 3k

SUMMARY: It's your first day working in Selma's Home, you're nervous enough already, but when an emergency calls your boss away and you're left alone, the situation is topped when famous CEO Harry Styles casually strolls in.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It doesn’t matter that this job is just an in-between. Something that earns you money until your dream position opens. A first day is always stressful, especially when you have no idea what to do.

You were applying to dozens of jobs at once, just shooting everywhere you could, hoping to get an answer back before your rent was due. Selma’s Home was the first one to invite you for an interview and somehow, miraculously you even got the job despite the fact that you have no experience in retail. You suspect that desperation was a big factor in your hiring, because Selma lost 2 of her employees at once when the young couple that was working for her moved across the country.

Now here you are, walking into the store, nervously fidgeting with your fingers as you head down the aisles where you see Selma behind the cash register already getting ready to open.

“Hi!” you greet her, her head snapping up at your weak voice. Selma is such a fierce, kind of intimidating woman, but you can see how it helped her to open this store and make it one of the most successful home decor stores in the city, offering tasteful stylish pieces along with practical utility items for one’s home.

“Oh, hi! Welcome to your first day, you ready?” She even cracks a smile, but somehow it just makes you gulp hard.

“Yeah, readier than ever!” you manage to squeeze out a nervous chuckle, hoping she doesn’t sense your jitters.

“Alright, then let’s get started.”

With an hour until opening Selma is eager to squeeze in as much information into it as possible. She walks you through the store, talking about the most important items, but also handing you a handbook about everything that’s currently selling in the store.

“Use your downtime to roam around and you’ll learn them by the end of the week without the handbook,” she says, eyes running over the shelves as she is talking, already moving to the storage room in the back.

She talks about the system, how to unload the new arrivals every two weeks and then you move on to the cash register, aka your biggest fear. It’s quite the stress factor to deal with money, making sure everything is neat and correct, you can only hope you won’t mess it all up.

Then the store opens and you follow around Selma to learn the ropes. What’s different here is that whenever a customer comes in you offer them help right away and if needed, you assist them throughout their whole time shopping. There are quite some designer products selling and you’ll need to know everything about them to be able to sell them to the customers just like Selma does.

She is so good at it. No matter who comes in, she so effortlessly talks them into leaving with not only what they came for, but some more as well. She is enchanting, nice, open and warm and you just keep taking notes mentally, though you don’t feel confident enough to be as charming as she can be the moment the bell rings above the door.

When lunch rolls around you allow yourself to feel relieved for a second that you survived half the day already. Selma sends you to the back to have your lunch and you just sit in silence, staring ahead of you, mustering up all your energy for the rest of the workday. You’ve just finished your sandwich when Selma barges into the breakroom.

“Y/N, there’s a bit of an emergency.”

You jump to your feet, scenarios already running through your mind. Is there a fire? Did the storefront just collapse? Someone stole those hella expensive Japanese tablecloths?

“What happened?”

“My daughter, she is ugh! Such a menace, she got into trouble at school, so I have to go there. I need you to cover for a bit, just an hour tops, I swear!”

She is already grabbing her purse, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head, car keys in hand while you just stand there dumbfounded. Is she actually gonna leave you alone in the store on your first day?

“Selma, I-I don’t…”

“You do, Honey. Just an hour. This is a dead time anyway, if anyone comes in, just try your best to help them and ring them up at the end. Easy, I know you can do it!”

She is storming out and you follow her like a lost puppy.

“B-But what if I mess something up?” you ask, panic setting in.

“As long as you don’t set the store on fire, you’ll be fine. I trust you, Y/N!”

And with that, she is already gone, the bell rings above the door as you stand there like a statue.

You watch the storefront in pure panic, your stomach dropping every time it seems like someone is approaching the shop, but no one comes in.

Until the bell rings above the door.

For a split second you hope it’s Selma, but looking up you see a tall, broad figure and your heart threatens to burst right out of your anxiety filled chest, at first because hello! It’s a customer! But then as he steps further into the shop and takes off his sunglasses, realization settles in.

This is not just a regular customer, this is Harry Fucking Styles, CEO of Pleasing Productions, the studio that’s given the world the absolute best romantic movies in the past decades and the man is famously known for being a ladies favorite, but appearing as a total mystery in the media.

You’ve read about him a lot before, it’s hard not to bump into his name online, thanks to his looks he is always somehow in talk for either having dinner with a model, appearing on the red carpet looking like a fucking snack, or, your personaly favorite, declining giving an answer to a question regarding his private life.

And now he is standing there, looking around the store.

It takes a couple of moments for you to push out of this frozen state and finally step forward.

“Hello!”

Wow. Did your voice actually sound like that?

Clearing your throat you keep moving towards him.

“Hi, can I help you with anything?”

You try to rake your mind to remember everything you’ve seen and heard from Selma to use now, but the moment he looks up, your mind goes blank. He is just as beautiful as he looks in pictures or maybe even more. Unlike on those red carpet photos where he is always dressed in designer suits, now he is wearing a pair of simple pants and a gray long sleeve, his hair is a bit tousled and it appears he is growing his beard out, a bit shaggy, but he makes it look very… hot. That’s all you can say looking at him.

“Oh, hey!” He is sporting a polite smile as he looks up, about to keep talking, but he stops for a moment upon looking at you and he stops.

Everything stops.

It’s as if he is taking you in, you can feel your cheeks heating up, the nervous fidgeting starts again, but you hide your hands behind your back so he doesn’t notice.

“I’m looking for some kitchen stuff,” he then says, hiding his hands in his pockets.

“Great!” you breathe out. “We do have… those.”

You flinch internally, but ignore just how awkward you are in his presence.

You ask him about what he needs specifically as the two of you start walking down the isles and for a moment you think of grabbing the handbook, but that would look awful, so you make a decision on the spot.

You’re gonna just wing it.

What could go wrong? You’ll just pretend like you’re Selma, confident and know everything about the items, you’re gonna say whatever comes to your mind and just… wing it.

All while ignoring how attractive this man is up close. And intimidating. And charming. And…

“I think I want to check out the coffee stuff first,” he suggests and nodding you walk him over to the kitchen items.

“Do you have a coffee machine and you’re looking for some accessories, or…”

“I just got one of those old fashioned moka coffee pots,” he says with a boyish smile. “But I want to get that to the next level, if you know what I mean.” You do not.

“Of course,” you smile, eyes scanning over the shelves.

Your grandmother has one of those old moka coffee makers, but you have absolutely no idea what else could be used for those, so you just start grabbing things and making up what they are used for.

One after the other, you just keep showing him stuff with no idea what you’re talking about, but the longer you’re talking the more confident you’re growing, especially when he just keeps nodding and humming along to anything you say.

“So… which one are you more interested in?” you ask at the end of your little speech. You look at him and find him already looking at you with a tiny smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

“What can you tell me about those?” he asks, ignoring your question and just moving to another shelf.

He keeps asking about items and you just make up everything as you go. Of course, you know some of the stuff, but you were never really a true chef in the kitchen, so there are way too many items you don’t know that much, but somehow, you’ve gathered enough confidence that even you believe what you say.

Slowly, Harry fills his basket as you move through the store and every time you look at him you catch him already looking at you with the same smile you can’t quite decipher.

“What about those?” he points up at a set of plates on the top shelf.

“Oh, those are so pretty! Let me show you them!” you enthuse and run to grab the ladder from the back.

It’s not the steadiest tool for sure, but you ignore the wobble you feel when you start climbing it.

“Are you sure it’s–”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” you chuckle, reaching the top step, but your knees are definitely shaking. You focus on grabbing the plates and getting off as fast as possible, but right when you take them off the shelf you already feel yourself losing balance.

But Harry is quick to come to your rescue. One of his hands grabs the ladder to steady it and the other… the other one grabs the back of your thigh to help you hold yourself up. Until then you were shaking because of the ladder, but now it’s definitely because of his firm hold on you, the warmth of his touch and the thoughts that unrelease when you realize just how perfectly his fingers are digging into your flesh.

“You good?” he asks in a deep, husky voice.

“Yeah.” Your voice is barely more than just a whisper as you hold onto the plates as if they could hold you up.

You start moving down on the ladder, but Harry’s hand doesn’t leave your body, it works up on your hips and waist, grabbing onto your elbow as you finally step onto the ground and even then, he is still touching you, his eyes locked on yours as you’re still holding those damn plates. The image of dropping them and pushing up against him flashes through your mind and your knees wobble again when you catch his gaze flickering down to your lips for a second.

“The plates,” you blurt out then. He looks down and a smile stretches across his face.

“They really are pretty.”

“Right?” you let out a breathy laugh.

“Now that you risked your life for them, I guess it’s only fair if I actually buy them.”

Fuck, your heart is about to jump right out of your chest, how is he so smooth?

You gather a few more things and then move to the cash register to ring everything up.

“How long have you been working here?” he asks, patiently waiting for you to finish.

“Um… Do you want the truth?” you ask, with a cheeky smile.

“Yeah.”

“This is my first day,” you admit, just as you finish the scanning and when you look at the amount it all added up to, you almost choke on your own saliva. “Um, your total is 1630.”

For a moment you think he’ll question how it’s so much, but without hesitation he whips out his card and taps it on the terminal.

“First day, huh?”

“You wouldn’t have guessed?”

“Oh, I kind of did,” he chuckles and he starts to help you with putting everything away in bags. “You really should learn what the items are used for.”

Normally you’d be embarrassed that he noticed how much you just made up, but the smile he is gifting you with vanishes all negative feelings and you can actually find it funny.

“I will.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” he smirks, grabbing the bags from the counter. “And if I happen to leave a review about the excellent service, what name should I drop?”

“I’m Y/N,” you say with a sheepish smile. He then sticks his hand out and you take it.

“Harry. It was really nice meeting you.”

“You too.”

With a final wave he turns around, slides his sunglasses back to the bridge of his nose and then walks out of the store. You stand there completely overwhelmed by the experience and you have no idea how much time passes by before Selma barges through the door.

“Hi Darling! How did everything go?” she beams, walking up to the counter where you’re still standing.

“Great!”

“Did anyone come in?”

“Yeah. Harry Styles was just here.” Selma freezes for a moment before looking up at you.

“Harry Styles? As in…”

“Yeah. That Harry Styles.”

“How did it go? Did he buy anything?”

“He spent 1600 dollars on kitchen stuff.”

“Y/N, that’s great!” Selma claps her hands. “Was he satisfied? Could you help him?”

“I think I could,” you say with a knowing smile. “He seemed… satisfied, yeah.”

The first day jitters are luckily gone by the next day, especially because Selma looked at you with so much pride after you told her about your encounter with Harry that you feel like you can’t do anything wrong.

Before lunch Selma asks you to rearrange some stuff in the storage and you’re a bit relieved you don’t have to take any customers for now.

But because of that, you’re not out when one specific person walks into the shop. Again.

Harry enters the store confidently, a smile already on his lips as he looks in the direction of the cash register, but it fades when he only sees Selma, but no sight of you. Selma, on the other hand, becomes ecstatic when she sees and recognizes him.

“Welcome! How may I help you?” she chirps, walking towards Harry, who is still looking around, eyes searching for you.

“Hey, is the… Is the woman who worked yesterday here? Y/N?” Selma stops, surprised.

“Y/N? Uh, yes, but she is busy now, I’m sure I can help you–”

“I want her,” he states.

“She is still training, I’m sure I can–”

“Look,” Harry sighs. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Selma, the owner,” she states proudly.

“Selma, I’m more than happy to buy everything in this store if it means I get to talk to her. How does that sound?”

Selma stares back at him, finally understanding the situation. Her stance changes instantly.

“Let me go get her for you.”

You’re going over your list in the back when Selma appears, her spotless appearance feels odd in the storage room’s setting.

“Oh, hey! I just finished with–”

“I need you outside.”

“What? Why?” Panic washes over you, because you can’t read her face and what could she possibly need you for outside on your second day?

“Just come. Now!” She turns around and heads out, not even checking if you’re following her. Of course you do.

“Selma, what did I–” you start mumbling behind her, but just when you step out and spot Harry at the cash register.

His face lights up the moment he sees you and those damn butterflies start raging in your stomach.

“Harry, you’re here. Again,” you state the obvious.

“I am,” he chuckles and you see Selma walk away from the corner of your eyes.

“How, um–What can I… help you with?” you ask, clearing your throat. Why is he here? Could it be… because of you? Yesterday you definitely spent an awful lot of time daydreaming of the way he was touching you on that ladder and you’d be lying if you said you felt disappointed he just walked out, knowing you might never see him again.

Well, so much for that.

“I forgot to get something yesterday.”

“Oh,” is all you can say, the disappointment snaking back into your gut. He is not here because of you, how could you even think about that?

Harry’s smile widens as he watches your face drop and then he finally continues.

“Your number.”

Your eyes widen and you must look quite funny, because Harry chuckles at the sight of your expression.

“Was this too straight forward?”

“No!” you snap right away, maybe a bit too eagerly. “Not at all.”

“Great, then…”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it over, you type your number in quickly and hand it over. He taps on the screen and a second later your phone starts buzzing in your back pocket.

“Just checking you didn’t give me a pizzeria’s number,” he jokes, making you laugh. “And… now that I’m conveniently here, maybe you can show me some more stuff.”

“What do you need?” you ask as the two of you head down one of the aisles.

“Hmm, how long is your shift?”

“Um, another four hours,” you scoff.

“Then I guess I’m interested in everything. Whatever takes four hours to look at so I can take you out once you’re done.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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kmt123whatsthetea · 1 year ago

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Fred and George Weasley headcanon

What would they be like with the new employee at Weasley Wizard Wheezes?

A/N: until I get any ideas, I'm going to try writing shorts and headcanons. If you have any requests for shorts or requests for stuff they’d do with the reader etc, I’ll be more than happy to write them.

T/W: NSFW, Our favourite twins being pervy, maybe slightly dark (unknown ownership and the reader is innocent and unaware of the pervy twins’ antics), spanking, pinching, groping, nicknames, praise, drugging? (mentions of aphrodisiacs, sex pollen, and love potions), Smell kink? (like perfume and scent sniffing)

Both twins

- They’d be all over you, fact

-At first, they thought you didn't mind their attention, but then it dawned on them that you were innocent enough to not notice (that didn't stop them)

-One would ask you to bend down and get something or stand on the step ladder to reach higher stock, the other would be enjoying every glimpse of your underwear

-They would definitely get you a uniform, which would be a very short skirt and a top that shows a lot of skin (they just tell you that its standard uniform and that some of the products stain clothes)

-And if your uniform is ‘crooked’, they’ll happily adjust it for you

-You were so eager for the job that you barely even read your contract (luckily for them)

-In small print was a paragraph that stated that you belonged to them and that they could do anything they wanted to you, ANYTHING

-Making mistakes has its advantages

They won't dock your pay or give you a warning, they’ll just pinch your thighs or give your ass and pussy spanks until you learn your lesson (Fred started this punishment)

-If a customer takes a liking to you or tries to make a move, the twins will slip him some puking pastilles (they have their ways)

-If a customer is mean, they’ll let you sit on one of their laps whilst they comfort you (again, this customer will be getting some puking pastilles for making their favourite girl upset)

-Anything new they make, they try on you (or so they tell you. They only want you to test the new line of ‘potions’ that they have made *cough* aphrodisiac and a sex pollen potions *cough*)

-At first, they wanted to compete for you, but they realised that two heads are better than one

-If Ron comes in and tries to make a move, they bar him from entering (until Molly finds out and sends them a howler)

-They’re waiting for the right moment to spike you with a love potion

Fred Weasley

-Fred is more handsy

-If your thigh is showing, his hands are already there

-If you’re on the stepladder, he will definitely grope your ass and tell you that he's making sure you don't fall

-One of his sneaky tricks involves dropping a small box that has small pieces inside onto you, he's just hoping that some of those pieces will fall out between your tits and he’s more than happy to reach between them to get them out

-If its George’s day off and a customer makes you upset, you will have to hold him back because he will whip his wand out (his magic wand, you dirty minds)

-He’s more possessive of you, and more handsy, and meaner (he will make sure you make a mistake just to punish you)

-Fred has taken a liking to calling you Kitten

George Weasley

-George is sweeter

-He can be just as sneaky as Fred, but he’ll praise you more often than he’ll punish you

-If you get tired when you stand at the till, he won't let you use the chair. As far as he’s concerned, you’re only allowed to sit on his lap or not sit at all (so he’ll just sit down and make you sit on his lap)

-If a customer is mean to you, George will stroke your hair (whilst you’re on his lap) and press small kisses to your cheek, which you think he’s doing to make you smile but he’s doing it cause he loves how you smell

-There have been times where you pout to him about Fred’s punishments, but he just strokes your hair and pretends to feel sorry, saying something like “you should have been a good girl and then Fred won't pinch those pretty little thighs”

-If you come to work and it's raining outside, George will let you change into a shirt of his whilst your clothes dry (he won't wash that shirt, he’ll keep it and smell it whilst his hand works wonders *wink* *wink*)

-George has taken a liking to calling you bunny

#george weasley #george weasley fic #george weasley x fem #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #fred and george #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley headcanons #george weasley headcanon #weasley twins #weasley twins smut #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x fem!reader #george weasly x reader

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qwimblenorrisstan · 4 months ago

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Candles and Cuddles | Azriel x Reader

Summary: You take Azriel to get a personal wax mold of your hands intertwined, and after overcoming insecurity, settle into each other’s warm embrace.

Word Count: ~ 1.3k

Warnings: Mentions of past injuries, scars, insecurities, fluff, nothing bad.

A/N: Really liked writing this, hope you enjoy it <3

Requests are open!

You had originally gotten the idea when you’d seen all sorts of cute pictures of couples getting wax molds and melts of them holding hands in a heart shape or fingers interlocked. It was, in your opinion, positively adorable, and so you decided to drag your mate along with you for this particular adventure.

“What, pray tell, are we looking for?”

Azriel’s deep voice, calm and gleaming with curiosity, spoke softly. His head was tilted slightly to the side as you walked excitedly down the bustling streets of Velaris, your soft hand holding his larger, scarred one and pulling him gently along.

The children played in the streets, vendors calling out their prices as some roamed the streets with baskets of fresh products or supplies to try or test, hopefully, to lure in some customers. It was a warm evening, a cool breeze blowing through that lifted the autumn leaves to stir around your feet, only to settle in piles before being further blown away, or gathered into piles as the children jumped into them.

“It’s a surprise, Az, you’ll know when we get there!”

You said, being drawn into the direction of one street corner by the warm light coming from the building, only to find exactly what you were looking for with a quiet sound of triumph.

A small smile graced Azriel’s face as he peered down at you curiously, studying your happy smile and the twinkle in your eyes, one that spoke of joy, and an innocence he would gladly protect with his life.

“You’re going to love this, it’s so cute.”

You said, eagerly entering the store hand in hand with him. He ducked to avoid the top of the doorframe, wings folding in tightly to not disrupt anything inside of the small business. His shadows curiously observed and watched, taking in information on the surroundings on instinct.

There was a small desk at the front with a woman who he assumed was running the main operation, and to the left of it in another open room were pots full of different colored melted max, with a few other people already dipping a dry white base into it to make their own custom candle. It looked..intriguing, he would admit. He was ashamed that he’d never come to see all these small thriving businesses in Velaris.

“Come on!”

You said, bursting at the seams with excitement as you paid the woman up front and eagerly pulled him along to the wax room. He’d been so caught up in thinking he’d missed your entire conversation with the other female. Oops.

He patiently followed along, until you were both standing in front of a blue wax pot, a deep, rich blue like the siphons he had. Blue was a nice color. Maybe even his favorite.

“See? We dip our hands in together, and it makes a wax outline we can keep.”

You explained, beaming up at him. He returned the smile, a warm one spreading across his lips as he intertwined his hand with yours.

“I understand, love.”

He replied, waiting for you to begin moving first before submerging both of their hands in the melted wax, letting it sit a bit before pulling it out and dipping it again, and that went on for a few more layers until both of your hands were covered in a thick layer of blue dried wax, about the consistency of a babybell cheese wrapper.

A worker came over and helped you both get the wax off of your hands, leaving the mold of your hands together before the worker spoke up. It was a male with short brown hair and ghoulish skin, and distinctly Fae eyes in a shade of chocolate brown. Maybe a mix between a ghoul and Fae? The shadows seemed to think so as well.

“We could use the wax mold to make a quick concrete markup?”

He offered, at which you eagerly nodded.

“I’d love that, how long would it take?”

You asked, at which the worker simply waved a hand.

“Not long, only like, five minutes. We got a new concrete mix, the stuff works like magic! I wouldn’t be surprised if there isn’t some sort of enchantment on it…”

The worker went on, before seeming to realize he was rambling and giving a little chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ll have it ready for you in five, just take a seat somewhere.”

He said, gesturing to some of the seats in the small business area, before walking off to the back room with you and Azriel’s wax mold in hand. You both went and sat down next to each other, and he tried to pull you on his lap. You gave him a look. He only smirked.

“What? Shouldn’t we save space for any other potential weary customers?”

He asked with a playful tone, still smirking, at which you laughed and shook your head in fond exasperation, finally sighing and sliding onto his lap.

A few minutes later, the worker returned, the wax mold gone, but with concrete of you and Azriel’s hands intertwined together. He smiled and gave it to you, and after paying a bit extra for the stone structure.

After walking back home, and a short flight, you triumphantly set the stone structure on your favorite bookshelf in a space with good visibility.

“Don’t you love it?”

You asked Azriel with a happy grin, leaning back into him. He nodded, but when you glanced back at him, you saw a hint of worry and hesitation in his gaze. You turned to face him, wondering what was wrong. Had you done something to upset him? Had the wax made his sensitive, scarred hands start aching?

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

You asked, one hand sliding up to his cheek to move his face so he was looking down at you. He hesitated before speaking. That was odd. He never hesitated much, if ever.

“You don’t think my hand looks a bit…out of place? With all the..scarring against your smooth skin?”

His now tentative and quiet voice asked, eyes studying the structure with a meticulous gaze, picking apart every minor detailing of his winding burn scars the wax mold had picked up, and the contrast of it against your smooth, soft skin. You pulled his gaze back to yours, taking his hands in yours.

“No. Not at all. Your hands are perfect just the way they are, and they look perfect in mine, and they belong there. If you ever start talking about them like that again, I’m revoking hand privileges for a week.”

He raised a brow because of the last statement but seemed a bit comforted by your statement, going to pull his hands away, but you wouldn’t let him, instead going to kiss every inch of his scarred hands until he was a blushing mess, his shadows looking more purple than usual as they crossed and danced around you in an embrace.

“Alright, love.”

He murmured, a small smile gracing his lips as he began gently pulling you towards the bed, a sign that he wanted to go to bed. You laughed softly, relenting as you pulled your bra off from under your loose shirt, tossing it onto the floor as you crawled into bed.

Azriel shimmied out of his leathers and crawled into bed wearing only his boxers, settling under the blankets before wrapping his arms and wings around you in a cocooning embrace, his head in the hollow of your neck, deeply inhaling your scent as he allowed himself to relax.

“Goodnight, Azzie, love you.”

You murmured, already sleepy. He smiled against your skin, shadows dancing before gently settling around you and him, before closing his eyes and replying.

“Goodnight, love.”

#azriel x reader #acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #acotar fluff #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #writers on tumblr #azriel fluff #azriel comfort #acotar comfort #comfort #fluff #established relationship

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months ago

Text

Antitrust is a labor issue

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

This is huge: yesterday, the FTC finalized a rule banning noncompete agreements for every American worker. That means that the person working the register at a Wendy's can switch to the fry-trap at McD's for an extra $0.25/hour, without their boss suing them:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/04/ftc-announces-rule-banning-noncompetes

The median worker laboring under a noncompete is a fast-food worker making close to minimum wage. You know who doesn't have to worry about noncompetes? High tech workers in Silicon Valley, because California already banned noncompetes, as did Colorado, Illinois, Maine, Maryland, New Hampshire, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Oregon, Rhode Island, Virginia and Washington.

The fact that the country's largest economies, encompassing the most "knowledge-intensive" industries, could operate without shitty bosses being able to shackle their best workers to their stupid workplaces for years after those workers told them to shove it shows you what a goddamned lie noncompetes are based on. The idea that companies can't raise capital or thrive if their know-how can walk out the door, secreted away in the skulls of their ungrateful workers, is bullshit:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/02/its-the-economy-stupid/#neofeudal

Remember when OpenAI's board briefly fired founder Sam Altman and Microsoft offered to hire him and 700 of his techies? If "noncompetes block investments" was true, you'd think they'd have a hard time raising money, but no, they're still pulling in billions in investor capital (primarily from Microsoft itself!). This is likewise true of Anthropic, the company's major rival, which was founded by (wait for it), two former OpenAI employees.

Indeed, Silicon Valley couldn't have come into existence without California's ban on noncompetes – the first silicon company, Shockley Semiconductors, was founded by a malignant, delusional eugenicist who also couldn't manage a lemonade stand. His eight most senior employees (the "Traitorous Eight") quit his shitty company to found Fairchild Semiconductor, a rather successful chip shop – but not nearly so successful as the company that two of Fairchild's top employees founded after they quit: Intel:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/24/the-traitorous-eight-and-the-battle-of-germanium-valley/

Likewise a lie: the tale that noncompetes raise wages. This theory – beloved of people whose skulls are so filled with Efficient Market Hypothesis Brain-Worms that they've got worms dangling out of their nostrils and eye-sockets – holds that the right to sign a noncompete is an asset that workers can trade to their employers in exchange for better pay. This is absolutely true, provided you ignore reality.

Remember: the median noncompete-bound worker is a fast food employee making near minimum wage. The major application of noncompetes is preventing that worker from getting a raise from a rival fast-food franchisee. Those workers are losing wages due to noncompetes. Meanwhile, the highest paid workers in the country are all clustered in a a couple of cities in northern California, pulling down sky-high salaries in a state where noncompetes have been illegal since the gold rush.

If a capitalist wants to retain their workers, they can compete. Offer your workers get better treatment and better wages. That's how capitalism's alchemy is supposed to work: competition transmogrifies the base metal of a capitalist's greed into the noble gold of public benefit by making success contingent on offering better products to your customers than your rivals – and better jobs to your workers than those rivals are willing to pay. However, capitalists hate capitalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/18/in-extremis-veritas/#the-winnah

Capitalists hate capitalism so much that they're suing the FTC, in MAGA's beloved Fifth Circuit, before a Trump-appointed judge. The case was brought by Trump's financial advisors, Ryan LLC, who are using it to drum up business from corporations that hate Biden's new taxes on the wealthy and stepped up IRS enforcement on rich tax-cheats.

Will they win? It's hard to say. Despite what you may have heard, the case against the FTC order is very weak, as Matt Stoller explains here:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/ftc-enrages-corporate-america-by

The FTC's statutory authority to block noncompetes comes from Section 5 of the FTC Act, which bans "unfair methods of competition" (hard to imagine a less fair method than indenturing your workers). Section 6(g) of the Act lets the FTC make rules to enforce Section 5's ban on unfairness. Both are good law – 6(g) has been used many times (26 times in the five years from 1968-73 alone!).

The DC Circuit court upheld the FTC's right to "promulgate rules defining the meaning of the statutory standards of the illegality the Commission is empowered to prevent" in 1973, and in 1974, Congress changed the FTC Act, but left this rulemaking power intact.

The lawyer suing the FTC – Anton Scalia's larvum, a pismire named Eugene Scalia – has some wild theories as to why none of this matters. He says that because the law hasn't been enforced since the ancient days of the (checks notes) 1970s, it no longer applies. He says that the mountain of precedent supporting the FTC's authority "hasn't aged well." He says that other antitrust statutes don't work the same as the FTC Act. Finally, he says that this rule is a big economic move and that it should be up to Congress to make it.

Stoller makes short work of these arguments. The thing that tells you whether a law is good is its text and precedent, "not whether a lawyer thinks a precedent is old and bad." Likewise, the fact that other antitrust laws is irrelevant "because, well, they are other antitrust laws, not this antitrust law." And as to whether this is Congress's job because it's economically significant, "so what?" Congress gave the FTC this power.

Now, none of this matters if the Supreme Court strikes down the rule, and what's more, if they do, they might also neuter the FTC's rulemaking power in the bargain. But again: so what? How is it better for the FTC to do nothing, and preserve a power that it never uses, than it is for the Commission to free the 35-40 million American workers whose bosses get to use the US court system to force them to do a job they hate?

The FTC's rule doesn't just ban noncompetes – it also bans TRAPs ("training repayment agreement provisions"), which require employees to pay their bosses thousands of dollars if they quit, get laid off, or are fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/04/its-a-trap/#a-little-on-the-nose

The FTC's job is to protect Americans from businesses that cheat. This is them, doing their job. If the Supreme Court strikes this down, it further delegitimizes the court, and spells out exactly who the GOP works for.

This is part of the long history of antitrust and labor. From its earliest days, antitrust law was "aimed at dollars, not men" – in other words, antitrust law was always designed to smash corporate power in order to protect workers. But over and over again, the courts refused to believe that Congress truly wanted American workers to get legal protection from the wealthy predators who had fastened their mouth-parts on those workers' throats. So over and over – and over and over – Congress passed new antitrust laws that clarified the purpose of antitrust, using words so small that even federal judges could understand them:

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

After decades of comatose inaction, Biden's FTC has restored its role as a protector of labor, explicitly tackling competition through a worker protection lens. This week, the Commission blocked the merger of Capri Holdings and Tapestry Inc, a pair of giant conglomerates that have, between them, bought up nearly every "affordable luxury" brand (Versace, Jimmy Choo, Michael Kors, Kate Spade, Coach, Stuart Weitzman, etc).

You may not care about "affordable luxury" handbags, but you should care about the basis on which the FTC blocked this merger. As David Dayen explains for The American Prospect: 33,000 workers employed by these two companies would lose the wage-competition that drives them to pay skilled sales-clerks more to cross the mall floor and switch stores:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-04-24-challenge-fashion-merger-new-antitrust-philosophy/

In other words, the FTC is blocking a $8.5b merger that would turn an oligopoly into a monopoly explicitly to protect workers from the power of bosses to suppress their wages. What's more, the vote was unanimous, include the Commission's freshly appointed (and frankly, pretty terrible) Republican commissioners:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/04/ftc-moves-block-tapestrys-acquisition-capri

A lot of people are (understandably) worried that if Biden doesn't survive the coming election that the raft of excellent rules enacted by his agencies will die along with his presidency. Here we have evidence that the Biden administration's anti-corporate agenda has become institutionalized, acquiring a bipartisan durability.

And while there hasn't been a lot of press about that anti-corporate agenda, it's pretty goddamned huge. Back in 2021, Tim Wu (then working in the White wrote an executive order on competition that identified 72 actions the agencies could take to blunt the power of corporations to harm everyday Americans:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

Biden's agency heads took that plan and ran with it, demonstrating the revolutionary power of technical administrative competence and proving that being good at your job is praxis:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

In just the past week, there's been a storm of astoundingly good new rules finalized by the agencies:

A minimum staffing ratio for nursing homes;

The founding of the American Climate Corps;

A guarantee of overtime benefits;

A ban on financial advisors cheating retirement savers;

Medical privacy rules that protect out-of-state abortions;

A ban on junk fees in mortgage servicing;

Conservation for 13m Arctic acres in Alaska;

Classifying "forever chemicals" as hazardous substances;

A requirement for federal agencies to buy sustainable products;

Closing the gun-show loophole.

That's just a partial list, and it's only Thursday.

Why the rush? As Gerard Edic writes for The American Prospect, finalizing these rules now protects them from the Congressional Review Act, a gimmick created by Newt Gingrich in 1996 that lets the next Senate wipe out administrative rules created in the months before a federal election:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-04-23-biden-administration-regulations-congressional-review-act/

In other words, this is more dazzling administrative competence from the technically brilliant agencies that have labored quietly and effectively since 2020. Even laggards like Pete Buttigieg have gotten in on the act, despite a very poor showing in the early years of the Biden administration:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/dinah-wont-you-blow/#ecp

Despite those unpromising beginnings, the DOT has gotten onboard the trains it regulates, and passed a great rule that forces airlines to refund your money if they charge you for services they don't deliver:

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2024/04/24/fact-sheet-biden-harris-administration-announces-rules-to-deliver-automatic-refunds-and-protect-consumers-from-surprise-junk-fees-in-air-travel/

The rule also bans junk fees and forces airlines to compensate you for late flights, finally giving American travelers the same rights their European cousins have enjoyed for two decades.

It's the latest in a string of muscular actions taken by the DOT, a period that coincides with the transfer of Jen Howard from her role as chief of staff to FTC chair Lina Khan to a new gig as the DOT's chief of competition enforcement:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-04-25-transportation-departments-new-path/

Under Howard's stewardship, the DOT blocked the merger of Spirit and Jetblue, and presided over the lowest flight cancellation rate in more than decade:

https://www.transportation.gov/briefing-room/2023-numbers-more-flights-fewer-cancellations-more-consumer-protections

All that, along with a suite of protections for fliers, mark a huge turning point in the US aviation industry's long and worsening abusive relationship with the American public. There's more in the offing, too including a ban on charging families extra for adjacent seats, rules to make flying with wheelchairs easier, and a ban on airlines selling passenger's private information to data brokers.

There's plenty going on in the world – and in the Biden administration – that you have every right to be furious and/or depressed about. But these expert agencies, staffed by experts, have brought on a tsunami of rules that will make every working American better off in a myriad of ways. Those material improvements in our lives will, in turn, free us up to fight the bigger, existential fights for a livable planet, free from genocide.

It may not be a good time to be alive, but it's a much better time than it was just last week.

And it's only Thursday.

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/2024/04/25/capri-v-tapestry/#aiming-at-dollars-not-men

#pluralistic #labor #antitrust #trustbusting #noncompetes #indenture #ftc #matt stoller #david dayen #tapestry #luxury fashion #capri

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bluecollarmcandtf · 1 year ago

Text

Which one do you want?

Just off a quiet highway somewhere in the Midwest, you might see James advertising my new product. He used to own this car dealership with his wife, but she's long gone. James hasn't thought about her since I pulled out my pendulum and put him in a trance. He just spends his days standing on the side of the road holding up that sign like I told him to.

You can see I marked him at 40 bucks, which is well over what he's worth, but I like to keep him around to advertise and flag down potential customers. His abs are visible even in the rain, and the neon underwear I put him in is sure to catch every driver's eye.

If you pull into my dealership, I'd be happy to show you my selection you can choose from...

Tyler, here, used to be my brother-in-law, but my sister dumped him real fast after she found the guy was a cheater. Since, he wasn't family anymore, I had no reason not to hypnotize every thought out of his head.

She has no idea I did this to her ex, but it won't hurt to have Tyler out of the picture for good. I like to give him a little punch in the gut every time I pass. It's my form of ongoing payback. He only ever reacts with a stifled groan since his mind is mush, but it's still cathartic to see him in pain.

Tyler will probably go fast since he's so traditionally handsome, but the vengeful part of me hopes a more sadistic client will take him off my hands.

Next is Caesar. This guy used to work at the auto garage next door, but when I saw him I knew I had to have him. He put on a real tough guy act when I introduced myself, but a pudgy working man like him should act accordingly in my opinion.

After introducing his gaze to my pendulum, he practically fell into my arms. I had my fun warping Ceasar's personality to be more like that of a submissive dog, but even that got a bit old. Sure, I made him love and cuddle me like the perfect partner, but he tracked mud everywhere and he always seemed to stink.

I hope whoever pays for him doesn't mind always telling the oaf to hose himself down every once in awhile. I suppose they could just use Ceasar for the cheap manual labor and just forget about his hygiene entirely.

This is Mike. He's a real piece of trash. I caught him trying to steal one of my cars in the middle of the night. He sure was shocked when my army of hypnotized hunks ran out and apprehended him, per my command.

He might look mean, but trust me, Mike's been thoroughly hypnotized and broken in just like every other dude on this lot. He wouldn't be standing there holding that 'For Sale' sign all day if he weren't!

Now, I know that his lack of hair might be a turn off for a lot of folks, so I'm willing to go down on the price. 20 dollars is already pretty low, but I want to make sure you all can afford your own hypnotized hunk. It's not like it's too difficult for me to go out and find a couple more idiots to fill their place. Hell, if you really need it, I might sell you a guy for a dollar!

This boy in blue is Lt. O'Riley. I don't know what his full name is. I'm just going off what it says on his badge. Now, I know that hypnotizing an officer of the law is risky, but O'Riley was being a real pain in my neck, always poking his nose in my business.

I hypnotized his partner too.

I think that guy's name was Brooks or something, but he was real ugly. I would've never been able to sell his fat ass, so I had him hand over his police uniform and turned him into my handyman, who's meant to be neither seen nor heard. He wears an old pair of dirty coveralls now and takes care of all the maintenance work. He's probably off scrubbing my housing from top to bottom right now since it's the middle of the day.

You could do that to officer O'Riley too, if you want, or maybe you keep that precious uniform on him. It's up to you.

This last guy is Don, and I know what you're going to say! I'm a little light on product at the moment, but don't worry.

I'm planning on driving into town real soon and restocking. Maybe I'll grab a few more officers this time. The police department is right down the street from that Halloween store. I could grab a couple more cops and put them in some stupid costumes.

Customers love a themed product, right?

Anyways, Don here didn't do anything to piss me off. He actually stopped in after seeing the sign. He wanted to purchase one of my brainless studs and pimp him out to all his friends for cheap cash. I liked the idea, but Don was far too handsome to just walk off my lot.

I offered to give him a tutorial of my hypnosis, and the guy naively agreed. His car has been collecting dust in the back ever since, and he's been added into the lineup of hot men standing for sale.

So, please come by if you're interested in taking any of these guys on a test drive! Let me know which one sparks your interest!

No need to be nervous.....unless you're a handsome man yourself. Then I might just have to use my pendulum on you!

#gay hypnosis #hypno story #gay mind control #gay ai art #hypnosis #mind control #hypnotized

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queenie-avenue · 1 year ago

Text

Terms and Conditions Apply.

💌 ⤻ THE CEO, ADRIAN HOUDE

—> you're the sweet little intern, and he's the big bad wolf who wants to eat you up.

⤻ reader is written as a female, yandere male, age gap, power dynamic, toxic obsession, slightly suggestive, slight financial abuse, set in london, this is a drabble but full fics of him will be made in the future

🦋 ⤻ archives.

TOP TEN BACHELORS NEAR YOU!

1. Adrian Houde.

Tall, Handsome, Rich, Successful, Ambitious. Ask anyone with more than half a braincell and they will immediately tell you that all these traits are what Adrian Houde has! Born from the rich Houde Family known for their luxury fashion products, he had risen the ranks as CEO of his family's company a few years back.

And boy oh boy, has he made himself known. From various (fake) scandals of him dating various women, to his success in the market in revolutionising his family's industry in fast fashion but still remaining loyal to his grandmother's routes as a custom tailor who first gained traction in France.

Perhaps Mister Houde's only flaw is that he has been on this bachelor list for far too long! He's already in his mid-30s, can you believe this guy has been single for so long?

So, to the lady who catches his eye, good luck surviving all the jealous women who are going to come after you, sweetheart!

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Adrian Houde is a proud man. I mean, who wouldn't be, right? He was successful, and rich, and practically everyone — regardless of gender or age — wanted to be with him or be like him. He was the pinnacle of a great man, just like his father had said he would be.

So why was it that when you entered the office, looking like a lost little puppy dog, that you captured his interest immediately. Perhaps it was the coffee stains on your skirt and the way your eyes sparkled with desire for greatness. He had seen that spark many times before. In his own eyes, actually. From the moment he saw himself in the mirror as a teen who became aware of the legacy on his shoulders, he knew he was bound for greatness. And you, a simple woman, of all people, carried that same determination and ambition within those cute eyes of yours.

You couldn't blame him for being intrigued by you.

Especially when you looked at him with so much fear in your eyes he couldn't help but laugh.

"I am so sorry, sir- I had no idea anyone was in the meeting room this early." You apologised frantically, holding a bunch of papers and a small, slightly shabby notebook.

"No, no." Adrian voice was smooth and sweet, a mixture of his French accent and his London boy accent he had gotten from the years of being raised in London. "Don't apologise. I was a bit too early to the meeting room, it seems." He said, taking his hands out of the pockets of his suits, raising out his hand towards you.

"Adrian Houde." He introduced out of courtesy.

Hurriedly, you rushed to take his hand, firmly shaking it like you had been taught.

You touch sent shivers down his spine. Was it because your hands were cold or was it something else about you?

Either way, he liked it.

"[y/n] [l/n], sir. It's a pleasure to meet you." You smiled at him, that glow from your eyes never fading.

"[y/n] [l/n]," he repeated, allowing the syllables to roll down his tongue like something falling down the stairs, bouncing. "A pretty name, for a pretty girl." He chuckled cooly as he pulled his hand away.

"I've never seen you before, Miss [y/n]. Are you new?" He inquired.

"Ah, I'm an intern. I just- uh, got posted here recently." You smiled. "I'm a fashion design major."

He couldn't help but be a bit disappointed by that. You were a fashion design major, which meant that you and him would probably not see each other often unless he kept paying visits to the fashion department.

"Wonderful. It's nice to see such wonderful young minds in my company." The older man said as he adjusted the cuffs of his suit with a relaxed grin. "I just know you'll do great in this company."

That blush on your cheeks after he complimented you drove him crazy.

That was how your first meeting concluded.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

You were so intriguing that Adrian just couldn't keep his mind off you. The moment he returned to his office, he called up his secretary and immediately requested for your file.

When he got it, he couldn't help but obsess over it. Your portfolio was so perfect. From all your university extracurriculars to all your little quirks that the intreviewers had noted down, they were all there for him to overanalyse and understand. Your designs, he had to say, surpassed his grandmother's when she first started out the business.

His fingers traced past all the small details of the sketches of the dresses and suits you made and he wondered what you would look like as a model. Sure, you were the artist, but what if you were a muse?

He couldn't help but imagine you draped in fabrics, nothing else underneath.

He shook his head out of it.

Where was all this coming from? He was a gentleman, his grandmother had taught him to be one.

Brushing those thoughts aside, he went back to admiring your work with a smile.

Indeed, you were an asset he couldn't lose.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Afterwards, he invested a lot of time into you. He would always drop by to the studio to talk to the head fashion designers then he would come find you, especially during your break where no one else would see you.

He disliked seeing you with others, terrified that someone else might steal his skilled intern away. No, he couldn't let any business rivals take you away from him.

Or at least, that was his justification.

Adrian would always watch you sketch your dresses behind you till you noticed and promptly let out a yelp. He enjoyed that fear in your eyes but what he enjoyed even more was the constant ambition sparkling in your pupils.

Right, you were his intern and his future designer. It was normal for him to be so invested in your growth.

After all, he was a gentleman. His grandmother had emphasised him to be in all his teachings, so this wasn't wrong. He wasn't preying on the cute intern because he wanted her. No, no, he was being a good boss by observing your actions and your growth.

Another defense as to why he began to nick your drawing pens away.

He would always replace them by gifting you more expensive pen though, a gift for you "allowing" him to have a close-up of the materials you use.

Plus, his future designer deserved the best.

You were his, after all.

"You lost another pen? No worries, I can gift you this one. Hm? Don't worry about it. Think of this as... an investment on your career."

#yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere drabble #yandere fanfiction #female reader #yandere ceo #ceo

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year ago

Note

hello! if you accept requests for one peaceLive action (I hope)

could you write reader x sanji and I have a strange idea

what if with reader flirting.... another cook? and Sanji feels not just jealousy, but double jealousy... it's very strange, I know, but still I think it's quite interesting.

thank you in advance🙏💕

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

The smell of spices, ripe fruit and freshly made food hits your nostrils. It's markets like this that truly show the genius loci of the place. Mobs of people roll through the narrow spaces between stalls that are bending under the weight of displayed products.

You glance at Sanji, who's walking next to you. Judging by the bliss on his face, you'd think you're in heaven and not some unmarked island in the middle of nowhere.

Then a specific aroma reaches you - something you haven't smelled in a long time but could never forget. It's tangy, creamy and herbal...

"Can you smell it?" you turn to Sanji, suddenly stopping in your tracks. Excitement bubbles inside your chest and cherished memories of beautiful days with wonderful people flash before your eyes.

"You'll have to be a little more precise, love," he answers with undeniable fondness in his voice. His thumb is softly rubbing the skin of your hand.

"Lemon tarragon sauce," you say as if it's the most obvious thing. Looking around, you catch a glimpse of a pot filled with yellow-ish, creamy dip. "Right there!"

Tugging at his arm, you pull him in the direction of the stall and the source of the delightful smell. The market stand is managed by a man around your age. He has a head full of black, dense curls that perfectly suit his tanned skin. There's a clean dish towel tied around his neck as if it's an ascot. Skilled, muscular hands move between pans, pots and counters as he's restlessly grilling meat, fish and prawns to put them in cones made from newspaper and layer the tarragon sauce on top.

The street cook looks up from the dishes when he notices customers approaching. As his dark eyes set on you, the man suddenly perks up and a playful smile curves his raspberry-coloured lips.

"Mademoiselle," he says with a certain intensity to his voice. It almost sounds like he's asking you something.

Sanji immediately cringes at the man's tone. This suave, decadent drawl is something he's also used the very first time he saw you. And considering the fact that you're tightly holding his hand, it had worked perfectly. Now just to make sure that this terragon-smelling, ascot-wearing sleazy guy isn't as successful.

"How can I thank you for brightening up my day?"

"I'd love a serving of prawns with tarragon sauce," you say thrilled. It seems that you're either missing the flirtatious aura surrounding the man or you're willfully ignoring them.

Sanji feels his chest tighten and a bitter taste fills his mouth. Why would you be so excited about someone else's cooking? Worse - what if you will prefer that guy's food over his?

The street cook gets to grilling freshly caught prawns. His fingers skilfully dance in the air as he seasons the seafood and mixes it in the pan. Garlic and lemon pepper fragrances overthrow your senses.

The ascot-wearing man gives you a curious look. "What are you looking for at the end of the world, flower?" he asks.

But before you can answer, Sanji cuts in. "We're on a shore leave," he answers coldly. "Won't stay for long."

"That's a shame," the local chef continues unaffected by Sanji's impertinence. His eyes are fixed on you, eating you up like you're the local delicacy and not the seafood in the pan. "At night the island looks even better. Not that it could compare," he says with a wink.

In a swift move, the man moves the prawns from the pan onto a page from a newspaper. He quickly rolls the paper into a cone. Clearly, he's been doing this for a very long time.

"You're from around here, right?" you carry on the conversation.

"Born and raised, ma cherie," he answers with pride. That shouldn't come as a surprise - ever since the Marines built a base on the surrounding archipelago, the islands have been filled with immigrants who couldn't care less about local traditions and customs.

Sanji feels his irritation only growing, hearing how the pet name rolls off the man's tongue naturally, as though he's calling you by your given name. It feels wrong down to the marrow of his bones.

"So, as a local, can you recommend something to pass the time?"

The bitterness Sanji involuntarily tastes on his tongue is mixed with sweetness that only you can bring him. Of course you don't notice the flirtatious tone - you just want the tarragon sauce and something fun to do before tomorrow comes and the Straw Hats are off for another voyage.

Then, another nice thought stirs inside his head. Maybe you're too deep in love with Sanji to even notice another man's interest? The idea makes him giddy like he's a schoolgirl with a crush. He almost misses the next part of the conversation, too busy with his adorable, a little cringy, daydream:

"While the weather is still good and the nights are warm, skinny dipping is quite popular," the local cook answers while pouring tarragon sauce over the grilled prawns. "Much better with good company," he purrs out. "Prawns with tarragon sauce, on the house." The man hands you your order but with only one cocktail stick as though the blond chef next to you doesn't count as a customer.

Excited, you take the paper cone from the street vendor. But before you can try the food, Sanji takes the stick and takes the first bite.

A frown enters his face as he chews the prawn. Then he sighs in disappointment.

"Do you seriously call this cooking?" he asks the ascot-wearing man. His voice is laced with anger and disbelief. "A fishman would make a better sauce. It's missing white wine and anise. And there's too much garlic."

You hiss his name out but Sanji appears unaffected. Forcing a polite smile, you turn to the street vendor, who's glancing between you and your boyfriend with a look of superiority. "Thank you for the food and sorry for Grumpy over here."

Only when you're a few paces away from the vendor and definitely out of earshot, do you confront Sanji about his mordant humor.

"No need to get snappy."

He forces his lips into a thin line. "His food is shit and he keeps making piss poor attempts at flirting when you're clearly," he lifts your intertwined fingers, "not a mademoiselle." Although Sanji quotes the word in mockery, it sounds delicious coming from him. If you weren't already sharing his bed, right now you'd be seriously considering it. Planning it even.

"So that's what this is about?" you ask as laughter forces its way out of your chest. Considering how whipped you are for Sanji, it seems ridiculous that you could think romantically about other men. "You're jealous about a smooth-talking cook. Sounds like someone I know."

"Does it?" he picks up on your banter. That familiar, playful smile returns to his face. His eyes momentarily light up, flashing you a glint of various emotions: desire, amusement, adoration. "How many smooth-talking cooks have you seduced?"

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head dramatically. "Don't know. Never bothered to count. I'm just looking for someone to make me lemon tarragon sauce any time I want."

Sanji's hand again rubs the skin of your palm. His other hand reaches for your face, fingers brushing against your jaw. "For you, little dove, I'd make tarragon sauce every day."

"With white wine and anise?" you ask, leaning in slightly. His scent of cigarette smoke and frying oil fills your lungs. Suddenly, the market around you is nonexistent and there's only Sanji.

"The best lemon tarragon sauce you've ever had," he murmurs against your face. His nose brushes against your cheeks.

"I already have the best."

His lips taste like lemons, butter and herbs when he kisses you. Honestly, this is the best version of the sauce you've ever had.

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justadeadreaper · 4 months ago

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Calling König's toddlers picky eaters is the understatement of the century, if there ever was one. The word picky does not even describe how abhorrent his children are when it comes to eating food. Unlike their father, who will virtually eat anything you put in front of him no matter if it is burnt or decayed due to how he was brought up with food being a limited supply, so he is just happy to eat for once (for context on how horrific be one time you found a whole ecosystem in a bowl in his fridge that smelt like complete rot and he said it was still fine to eat), they will refuse anything and if you dare bring new foods around them expect it to be thrown onto the floor. For weeks on end, they will refuse any other food but their current fixation, then randomly, their little minds decide one day that the food is now their greatest enemy and will refuse to eat it and anything else until they find their next fixation.

The foods they always like? The main ones are any type of fish or meat that was fried or breaded, cheese, or anything made of potatoes, cream, bread, pasta, and strawberries. The foods they always hate? The obvious ones, like most toddlers their age, are vegetables and fruits, but their hate list also includes anything new, slimy, or that smells or looks slightly off.

Given how picky they can be, König has had to become creative in getting them to eat a healthy diet.

Luckily, with having a well-paid job, a dodgy side hustle/”hobby”, and enough savings to make an average person have a heart attack König can afford to be able to get creative when he is cooking for his darlings. He will spend hours upon hours searching online for recipes and then perfecting them to make sure that the taste of vegetables will be unrecognisable so that they will finally eat them. No matter how hard or time-consuming it is, he continues to do it just because he knows it is the best for his toddlers and he can have nothing but the best for the lights of his life. After enough tests and trials with having his toddlers be his taste testers, he realised what worked best and spent thousands upon thousands of euros to get the equipment to continue doing this.

The first step König makes to put his big plan into action is to make deals with some local farmers and fishers at the market in one of the nearby villages or towns who will drop off fresh produce like meat, vegetables, fruits, grain, and dairy products for him and his kids to eat and in return, he pays them highly for both dropping off the food and giving him some of the best product. He also pays a few to help him set up his own mini farm in his garden so that he can grow a few things himself and with his toddlers so they appreciate their food more as they know where it comes from (if anyone is interested, I can expand on this idea). His next step is to order cookie cutters online, whether they be ones he had to have custom-made or ones he just found randomly when scrolling on some shopping site he had the recruits recommend him; the reason why he decides to order them is because he realised that his toddlers are more likely to eat their food or try new food if it is themed around their interests.

And, his final step is to redo his entire kitchen from the stove to the sinks to the fridge (he decides to get two double fridges rather than the single one he had before) while getting more utensils that are not the normal things like a spatula or grater as they are more appliances like food mixer for baking or a slow cooker or a rice cooker until his kitchen was full of cooking equipment. He had brought everything he could think of and that others at KorTac or online had recommended, even if it was over the top and had cost him tens of thousands of euros, but his children were worth it all, even if it was a bit of a sink in his pocket.

With his set-up complete and recipes at hand, König can begin cooking for his picky eaters. Due to his toddlers’ preference for fried food such as chicken nuggets, he will put the chicken through the grinder himself to make a paste into which he can put chopped vegetables such as onions, peppers, corn, or mushrooms into which he can then season and bread after using the cookie cutters to make special shapes such as dinosaurs or shark or stars or rockets, it just depends on his what his toddlers’ interests are. He makes tiny edits to most of the recipes, since he prefers to make the components by hand, to make them healthier so that his toddlers have all the nutrients they need so they do not suffer like he did as a child where certain nutrients were neglected in favour of others. König will then spend hours in the kitchen preparing his meals, never letting his toddlers see his crafty tricks that get them to be healthy, which he will then serve to them like it is their regular food.

Examples of the displays of main dishes he puts together for his toddlers are fried fish in the shape of sharks with vegetables cut out in the shape of fish and potatoes that look like coral as it is plated on a water/ocean-themed plate if the toddler’s interest is sharks or a mashed potato volcano with a broccoli forest and vegetable shavings grass with dinosaur nuggets running away as it is plated on a forest-themed plate if the toddler’s interest is dinosaurs or vegetable shavings grass with chicken nuggets in the shape of bunnies with potato fries in the shape of Easter eggs or carrots as it is plated on a grassland-themed plate if the toddler’s interest is bunnies as Miffy has been getting extremely popular or alien shaped chicken or fish nuggets with mashed potato meteors, vegetables shaped into planets or stars, and one massive fry in the shape of a rocket as it is placed on a galaxy-themed plate if the toddler’s interest is the stars and space. Normally, the main dishes will come with a side of any food group he does not add to the main dish, or it may be extras he thinks his toddlers will like but wants them to control the amount they have, like a mixture of cheese he shredded or others vegetables he cut up that they can use to break up their main meal or a fresh bun he had brought.

While the examples of desserts and snacks he makes for his toddlers are milk bread sandwiches with a filling of cream, jam, and fruits that are cut into any shapes his toddlers want that day, or he will use an ice cream machine he brought to make a more healthy version of ice cream that he will sneak more fruits into that he thinks will match the flavour (such as strawberries and blueberries or peaches added into vanilla ice cream or bananas added into vanilla ice cream) with frozen or dried fruit shavings as a topping or a snack they can chew on in the middle of the day or tiny, or little cupcakes filled with fruit pieces and topped with homemade cream that can fit into their tiny little hands as he uses cut up fruits to add features such as spines or bunny ears or marshmallows with details on like stars or paw prints or specially shaped pancakes that are decorated with fruits and whipped cream to give details to make it look like their interests like dinosaurs or cats.

But this is not everything. With the countless recipes he has, he can make countless displays so that his toddlers are never bored. He may substitute one ingredient for another if he wants his children to try new foods or if he wants to change the taste slightly to stop boredom. He may substitute and swap options for new variety or when he thinks his kids are lacking, as he just wants to make sure they are healthy and try any food possible.

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koolades-world · 2 years ago

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More Obey me! Headcannons

had so much fun last time I wanted to do it again

Satan is so smart, but has issues doing basic math and refuses to admit it, like he can’t figure out fifteen plus seven without his fingers or a calculator (is this me projecting? maybe)

Belphie bought himself and Mc matching house slippers. Mc thought Beel felt left out and made Belphie buy a pair for him too

Beel has a huge green thumb, and takes upon himself to save plants he thinks are sad or lonely. He buys the dying plants from the store to bring back to life (partially inspired by the chat where someone, forgot who, told beel that if he talked to plants they would grow faster my precious baby)

Lucifer is the best cook at the HoL, but rarely has time to cook. Beel is the second best but usually eats the ingredients before he can make anything with them. Mammon is probably the worst because Levi can make food from animes almost perfectly

Asmo once almost set a store he was collaborating with on fire with his rage alone because they spelt his name wrong

Beel probably needs a new toothbrush every couple weeks. Belphie probably gets toothbrushes mixed up and uses ones that aren’t his

Lucifer and Solomon like prune juice haha old men

The one thing Luke and Simeon have seriously disagreed on is if raisins belong in dessert. Michael likes them, so Luke does too. Simeon thinks they’re awful but never directly says it, so Lucifer usually says it for him

Despite always being online, Levi had not once checked his RAD email. He has 9,999+ emails, probably a lot more because 9,999 is where it stops counting

Mammon collects cool rocks and keeps them in a box under his bed

Satan’s hands are always freezing, so he sticks them under Mc (or a cat) when possible, or uses a charmed hot water bottle from Solomon that stays warm for days at a time

Solomon and Asmo have had matching bracelet sets for as long as they’ve known each other, and since they didn’t make them anymore, they got some custom done for Mc so they could also have them

For about 1,000 years, Thirteen though jelly beans were an actual kind of bean and Solomon never let her let it go

The first food Mc and Mammon ate on a date in the human world together was Taiyaki, so he made it a point to learn how to make them to surprise Mc (even though he’s a terrible cook) (I might make this a fic since I like this idea so much)

Diavolo has always wanted a Devildom version of a hamster but Barbatos refused to have any kind of rodent in the castle, rat or not

Luke probably downloads those stupid app games with the ads unironically

Satan’s favorite Disney Princess is Ariel because she ran off to do what she wanted without caring what her father thought, it’s giving daddy issues. He’s probably considered running off and marrying Mephisto to make Lucifer angry

Raphael unironically enjoys off brand chips and soda

Lucifer is a nail biter, and Asmo is helping him curve the habit by putting a nasty tasting top coat when he does his nails, and it’s also why he wears gloves all the time.

Belphie and Satan once went up to the humans world together to mess with people in Salem, Massachusetts with magic, which spawned several conspiracy theory books. They read them together and laugh as a past time

Diavolo once went to the human world in his demon form for,, reasons, and accidentally got written into ancient mythology because he got spotted by humans

Barbatos had a home garden for cooking and sometimes lets Asmo have leaves from some of the plants to make homemade skin care products

Mammon probably has lots of earwax. Don’t share your earbuds with him unless you make him clean them afterwards

Belphie has a really large water bottle that’s always on his side table. He wakes up randomly though the night, chugs an ungodly amount of water and then passed out again. In the mornings he has to piss really bad but is too lazy to get up and actually do it, so he just sits and complains. Even Beel isn’t sure how he’s able to drink that much water in a short amount of time

Satan likes waking up early to enjoy the morning air and read outside for a while since mornings can get hectic with his brothers

Thirteen’s favorite torture device is the Iron Maiden. She had her own that she bedazzled. Even Asmo is jealous and wants her to make him one too

Mammon introduced Diavolo to Gatorade, and instead of sneaking behind Lucifer and Barbatos’s backs to drink Demonus, they have secret Gatorade meetings

Diavolo and Lucifer definitely both had a hidden Dialuci stash of things and probably clash trying to collect limited edition things online

None of the Obey me cast took birthdays or passing of years seriously until Mc entered the picture and suddenly time was precious, and they actually kept track. Because of this, nobody is really sure how old the twins are

Mephisto thinks roosters want world domination

Asmo thinks cilantro tastes like soap and Levi thinks anything cola flavored tastes like cough medicine

Mammon's favorite party trick is one Mc taught him, which is rolling his tongue Everyone he meets, including his brothers, thinks it's so cool when really it's just a genetic thing

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undersprite · 6 months ago

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...

Ah, jeez, did anyone remember to dust in here while I was away?

Hello, everyone—CHAOS_FANTAZY here, former entrant and judge to the Undertale/Deltarune Sprite Comic contest. It's been a while since the previous one hosted in 2021, but I've been thinking about running this contest again ever since.

So why not now?

As of right now, I've reopened the official contest Discord server in preparation for the 3rd """annual""" comic contest—slated to run throughout the summer, with the submission period running from June through August. I'm making this post to inform everyone of the contest's return, with all the general information given below:

Huh? What? Sprite Comic Contest? I don't understand anything!

A sprite comic, as its name suggests, is a web comic that uses sprites rather than artwork as the main means of depicting its subjects. This is commonly done to produce fan comics for video games, and Undertale is no exception—many prolific AUs, including @invertedfate, began as sprite comics.

This is a contest to produce a sprite comic about Undertale or Deltarune—a game jam but with comics, as it were. If you've ever had an idea for a story you want to tell using these games' characters or setting, but could never justify dedicating time to telling it...this is the excuse you need!

Who's running this show now?

As aforementioned, it's me, CHAOS_FANTAZY! I'm joined by a panel of three volunteer judges, Mufeet, Subna, and Soufon (Whom, much like myself, has no major social media platforms). All four of us are not only long-time Undertale fans who can remember when sprite comics were a highly popular storytelling format, but also participants in previous sprite comic contests!

What's in it for me?

Although he's no longer directly involved in running the contest, the former host @fmsdraws has graciously offered to supply it with illustrated prizes. Additionally, we have a small cash prize pool to distribute among the top three (Via Paypal/Cashapp, or an alternative if both of these are unavailable to the winner):

First place will receive $25, and a custom illustration with up to two characters from Fms.

Second place will receive $15, and a one-character custom illustration from Fms.

Third place will receive $10, and a custom sprite from Fms.

Additional prizes may be added to this pool over the next week or so; this post will be edited to reflect these changes.

How do I participate?

I'm glad you asked! Our official Discord server is not only the proper avenue to send a submission, it also contains all the official rules regarding the production and submission thereof. (The original contest's rules are here, but there have been some revisions and modernizations made since.)

As aforementioned, the contest is planned to run through August—make sure you get your submission in by 11:59 PM EST on August 31st!

That's all for now. Good luck, everyone!

#undertale #undertale au #deltarune #deltarune au #undertale sprite comic contest #undersprite #toriel #frisk #sans

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mrs-starkgaryen · 3 months ago

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Meet me at the Corner (Shop) teaser

Modern! Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Teaser 2, Teaser 3

✍️ (My other writings) ✍️

You keep meeting a certain silver-haired man at the local corner shop and whilst you only came in for a snack, you leave with a whole lot more.

Warnings: Will post more with the whole ones-shot later, but for now- Rude Aegon, British corner shop life, missing punctuation and grammar, probably

A/N: This is my first fanfic. I don't know why I wrote this, I just wanted to get me started. THERE IS MORE TO COME TO THIS ONE-SHOT IF PEOPLE LIKE IT (or even if they don't)!

I just love my man, Aegon, and you know what they say- if there isn't a fanfic you want, write it yourself so tada!

Please like, reblog and leave constructive comments (or any) :D

The bell dinged when I pushed open the heavy door, announcing my entrance to the shop’s inhabitants. I hated the thing. I’d rather slink in, grab what I want and leave, like a snake slithering in the long blades of grass, pouncing on its prey and disappearing. But now, I had to endure walking around the shop as the only cashier available had his eyes fixed on my movements.

He was an older man, probably mid-fifties, greying hair and even though he was always behind the till, he had a noticeable belly, like a balloon shoved underneath his shirt. There is nothing outwardly wrong with him but he always makes me feel uncomfortable, from how he would watch me wonder or judge me for what I buy. The latter probably wasn’t true and the former… well the former was probably him watching for shoplifters- which I don’t blame him for. Corner shops were prime targets for theft.

As the embarrassment of the bell’s acknowledgment evaporated, I make myself look up begrudgingly to him, to acknowledge my arrival with a nod or a smile. But upon looking at the man behind the till, instead of the sides of my mouth lifting upwards, they went down. For in the place of the typical man, was a much younger one. He had scruffy hair in the shade of ice dripping down his head and sported snow-sprinkled stubble which he was scratching absent-mindedly as he scrolled on his phone.

He was leaning over the counter as I made my way past the magazine section next to the door but he must have been too engrossed in whatever was on his screen for he didn’t once look up at me. I was grateful for it but it was odd, coming into a corner shop and not being watched. With this new revelation in mind, I made my way around the aisles, looking for the items that I came in for: cookies, a Cadbury bar, a bag of Doritos, a can of Monster and a milkshake. I was planning on watching the new season of my favourite TV series in its entirety tonight and I was planning on having a good time. I navigated the thin aisles, trying not to bump into the products that hung off the shelves, adding the necessary items to the growing pile in my arms.

Trying to balance the unknown brand of cookies on top, I position myself to hold the items better with this new addition. However, the packet falls to the floor with a crunch and I wince at the sound interrupting the silence of the shop. Heat blooms in my cheeks as I peer over the pile of food to the cookies on the ground before tentatively turning my eyes to the man behind the till to see if he noticed. Oh man, oh man. He is going to think I’m a pig who can’t resist all these snacks

Fortunately, the man was still flicking through his phone and not paying attention to the happenings of the shop that he oversaw. A brief idea of me just walking out with the items flashed through my mind but I banished it away, heading my way towards the cashier. I stood in front of him, waiting for him to notice that he had a customer.

But the white-haired man seemed intent on pretending he was not here, and that was something we had in common. I started to wish the creepy older man was back. At least he was aware of the people in the shop. My arms were beginning to ache, so I had to break the silence we both were unwillingly in; I let out a small cough.

His eyes flick up from the screen and land on me. He rolls his eyes and slowly puts his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. He wasn’t wearing uniform, but instead a short-sleeved checkered shirt that was open to reveal a t-shirt with a quote on, underneath. I tried to get a glimpse but after reading the top three words, ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he moved to cross his arms, blocking the rest of the words. He waited for me to put my items on the till.

Noticing his disgruntled face, I smile shyly as I empty my arms. “Hi. Just these please.”

He grabs the items and starts to scan. Beep, beep, beep. I stand there, swaying on the soles of my feet as I waited. He places the stuff in a blue-lined bag and places it in front of me. Then we go back to the silence, staring at each other. Why is he staring at me? My eyes start to look around, trying to avoid his intense gaze, especially as his eyes are a weird colour, like an amethyst cracked open, gems being disrupted from their rocky slumber.

Nervously, I flicker back to his shirt. ‘Sorry I’m late- my alarm didn’t go off. Because I didn’t turn it on. Because I didn’t want to be here.’ A puff of unwanted laughter escapes my mouth; the shirt is appropriate for the man in front of me. Who was still staring at me.

Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. I open my mouth, “So how- “

“Do you want the cookies or not?”

“Huh?”

He nods towards the pack that I dropped on the floor earlier, the ones that I forgot to pick up. “Oh,” I rush back to grab them and plonk them on the till, smiling, “Yes please, wouldn’t be a movie night without them.”

The man doesn’t say anything to attest if that was true but scanned the biscuits and shoved them into the bag with the rest. Not talkative, I see.

“£5.48.”

I nod, pulling out my purse, searching for the change. 25p, 32p, 46p. Oh for the love of- the one time you need to be drowning in copper coins-

Realising that I am delaying this man returning to his favourite pastime, I start to panic. “Sorry” I say.

Oh, he isn’t going to like me. I need 2p, where is it? I finally find one stuck in the crevices of my purse, I pull it out. Huzzah! I happily extend my clenched fist over his, “I knew I had it.”

I drop the money and wait for him to count it. He nods and hands the bag over to me, before pulling his phone back out. I take it business was done.

I shuffle on my feet, eager to patch up the bad taste I must have left in his mouth, “Thank you!”

He doesn’t respond, I fidget with the plastic straps, “Sorry about the wait,” I realise he still hasn’t moved from watching his phone. Well, okay then… I head for the door, tugging it open with my free hand. Before I exit into the cold night, I look back but he’s still not looking, I stretch out one more olive branch, “Have a good night.”

He was as stoic as ever. I huff and let the door close between us. As I trudge home, I ponder about the weird man and for once, I start to hope that I’ll see the old one the next time I go into The Hightower corner shop.

More to come (only a few thousand words left)

#house of the dragon #hotd #modern aegon #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #modern aegon targaryen #modern house of the dragon #tom glynn carney #tom glynn-carney #hotd fanfic #new and improved #aegon targaryen one shot #hotd one shot

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 month ago

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You can definitely ignore this little thingy if you feel uncomfortable buttttt,,,,,,, do you think Steven would like the idea of being bred? Now, breeding is cool and all I love anything that has to do with it but what if it was the opposite? Like, instead of yn it was character? (Doesn't have to be amab specifically lol cuz fake cum is a thing) but like it specifically thinking of Steven having a breeding kink, both ways not just once ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ sorry if this is not your usual type of requests or food for thought haha 😞

Okay this has been sitting in my box for a while but I finally got an idea for it asfjdlndlnd

Sorry if it's like, all over the place and not as detailed as my other stuff :'> I might come in and edit it in the morning when I'm more awake!

A Little Strange

Steven Grant x Fem! Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Flat out smut, pegging, creampie (sorta), spanking(?), Steven is a crybaby, punishment, Sub!Steven, Top!Reader Reader has some hair that is long enough to be pushed back

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

The request your lovely, mousey, nerdy little boyfriend made of you was one you were not expecting.

Sure, you had pegged him before, but the most recent time, as you helped him ride out his orgasm, you heard him whimper and sob into the pillow; "Breed me, love--"

The poor thing was so embarrassed about it all, but after a little sit down with him, he'd explained that he had fantasized about it, imagined you with a real cock; pumping him full, letting it drip down his thighs as you pulled out...

So, you started looking into online forums, Discord servers for adult toys that gave you advice as well as some stores that did custom designed dildos with cum tubes in them, as well as prep and cleanup.

You showed the messages to Steven, showing him there was no shame in what he was thinking about and you noticed how much lighter he was.

So much so that you and Steven started looking at adult toy shops online together for the "perfect" toy to play out his fantasy.

Steven wasn't yet brave enough to enter actual shops so, that task fell to you, Steven completely and utterly trusting whatever decision you made.

However, one night, while scrolling through various product lines...

You found it.

The perfect one. Lifelike, even complete with soft foreskin--matching your very own skin tone to give Steven a bit more reality in imagining that you were going to be the one to fuck him full of cum, not some obnoxiously-colored hunk of rubber.

You bought some warming lube, the fake cum, a new harness to accommodate the tube as well as a vibrator you could insert into yourself. After all, if he was the only one getting off, it wasn't much fun if you didn't, too...

You loved Steven for that. Your pleasure was always his, too.

You looked at him questioningly as you adjusted the harness, "If you're not sure about this..."

Steven had practically been drooling, watching you slip the silicone dick into place. Hell, it looked so life-like he had to blink for a moment to remind himself it was just a toy.

Not that he would have minded the real thing, per se...

He nodded, a little too enthusiastically; making his wispy raven curls bounce back down in front of his forehead, "Y-Yeah, love... I'm good. So--so good. Um--yes. Comfortable, I mean. That is, I'm--"

"Steven." You laugh softly, taking his cheeks in your hands, noticing how he leaned in on sheer instinct alone; as if your comfort was the one thing he needed most in the world.

"Baby, sloooooow down."

You boop your nose to his, making him laugh in return, an obvious red hue to his cheeks. His tongue gets his lips before he speaks, "Right, sorry. Excited, is all."

"I know." You say gently, brushing your fingers through his hair to push some of his curls back. You kissed his cheek and leaned in just a bit more, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as your hand pressed firmly against the bulge in his sweatpants.

"How do you want my cock, Steven? How do you want me to fuck you?"

The way he shudders visibly makes your toes want to curl and your pussy clench around the toy seated comfortably within you. It was off... for the moment.

"I--ah--a-all fours. From behind." He breathes, pressing his cheek into yours.

"Good boy." You purred, grazing your fingers along his jawline so you could tip his gaze upwards to meet yours.

"What about you, sweetheart?" He asked quietly.

"Oh, me?" You giggled, turning away, noticing how his gaze immediately fell to the way the dildo flopped as you sauntered your hips over to your shared dresser. You decided to spare him a quip, and grabbed a small remote.

You walked back over to him and placed the device in your hand.

And Steven, being the wonderfully curious goober that he is... pushing the button at the top, turning the vibrator on at full force.

The unexpected sensation made you squeak and squeeze your legs together; you hands cradling your midsection as your face erupted in a vibrant flush.

"W-wait!" You whined as you doubled over.

"Oh, bloody--I'm sorry!" He floundered, frantically trying to turn it off--accidentially hitting several buttons in the process so you suddenly were barraged with decreases in frequency, pulses, and even warmth--until he finally managed to succeed.

You panted as the sensations finally subsided, a sticky wet heat soaking the crotch of the harness, leaking out around the vibrator tucked snugly within you.

"Take off your pants and get on your knees." You said, your mouth twitching into a smirk.

"You are in so much trouble for that!"

"I'm s-sorry--" Steven hiccuped as you withdrew your hips oh-so slowly, your eyes watching how the strap-on sunk back in welcomingly past his tight rim of muscles.

His ass cheeks were red and swollen from the spanking you had given him--you didn't actually start fucking him with it until he was drooling and crying into the pillow he had tucked against his chest, his cock a weeping mess into the blankets below.

You didn't even let him touch himself.

You pressed the toy in as deep as it would go, pressing your hips down hard until you were grinding against his prostate; Steven whining and babbling the most filthy things as he chewed his pillow, begging for you to just move, to go just a little faster.

"You want me to go faster, baby?" You coo'd, pulling back just to slam home once again, grinding in deep.

"Ye-eeeeh-eeessss!" He cried.

You huffed, pushing back some of your hair that had gotten stuck to your sweaty forehead as you smoothed your hand up the curve of his arched spine, your fingers easily swiping through the rivulets of perspiration that flowed down his skin.

"Shh, shh, I'll give you what you want..." You murmured, leaning in to pepper soft kisses across his trembling shoulder.

He had been behaving since his "punishment"... You figured he deserved a bit of a reward.

So, you pried his tight-fisted fingers open and slipped the controller to your vibrator into his sweaty grasp.

"I want you to cum. And I want you to make sure I do at the same time. If you forget and don't let me cum..." You curled your fingers under his chin, scraping his messy stubble with your nails slightly, making his Adam's apple bomb as he swallowed the lump sum of saliva that had been gathering in his mouth.

"I--I will! Or--I w-won't? I..."

"Just make sure I do, baby. Can you do that for me?" You murmured against his ear, taking the lobe between your teeth and biting down softly.

"I--y-yes..." Steven sobbed.

"Yes..?" You hummed as you pulled back.

"Yes ma'am." He gasped as he felt the dildo inch its way out of his hole.

"Good boy." You praised him, your teeth snagging your lower lip as you feel him turn the vibrator inside of you on at a nice, comfortable setting.

Comfortable, but not what you wanted.

You thrust into him in a nice, deep, steady rhythm, groaning as you watch his hole clench and try to drag you deeper.

You almost wished this was your real cock, just so you could feel how his walls clenched and gripped--desperately trying to urge you along and deeper inside of him.

A moan was torn from your throat; as you thrusted in and out of Steven, the toy would nudge at a delicious angle to just barely catch at your g-spot.

"Steven, higher..." You panted, planting one foot down on the bed as you increased your pace.

You probably should have given him a bit more time to process your request before you began to fuck him harder, the poor man. He was a babbling mess of drool and tears, and you were relentless--pounding into his ass with vigor and energy he barely had in reserves.

His thumb shakily found it, and your breath punches from your lungs when it is turned to the highest setting on a steady pulse to almost match your rolling hips.

"F-fuck!" You groaned, gripping the soft fat on his hips for more leverage to fuck him harder, the vibrator inside of you moving around in your gummy walls, massaging you wonderfully from within, driving your impending climax closer as the seam of the leather harness you wore ground against your clit with every movement.

"'m gonna c-cum, love." Steven moaned loudly, his head lifting from the pillow.

"God--ahh!--are you?" You huffed back, your eyes rolling a little as the vibrator pulses harshly within you.

Maybe you'd chosen your toys a little too well... Neither of you were going to last at this rate. Pity. And here, you wanted to play with him just a bit longer.

Oh, well... Maybe next time you could cockwarm him; slowly fill him up with fake cum until he was begging to ride your cock. Maybe fill if with flavored lube and have him give you a blowjob? So many possibilities...

You reached down and grabbed the pump from your harness--your hand lightly squeezing it to let the fake cum solution work its way up the shaft as you moaned for Steven.

You hear a furious slide of skin as you realize he'd slipped his free hand below, stroking his flushed, fat shaft as you fucked him from behind. He'd get a punishment for breaking that rule.

He hiccuped, a broken and shattered moan coming from his soft and sweet lips was like music to your ears; making your heart skip a beat in your chest.

Later. He'd get one later.

"J-just a little more, baby--you can hold on long enough for me, can't you?" You sighed, swallowing hard to try and keep your voice level as your orgasm threatened to wash through you.

Your only reply was a choked-out whimper, your name leaving his mouth like a prayer as he sniffled; his hand on his dick slowing just a fraction to allow your budding climax to swell and bloom.

"Love, please." Steven pleaded, his hand dropping the remote to your toy--leaving it on the setting that already had your toes curling--as he gripped at the sheets blindly, drooling into the pillow once again.

"You want me to fill you up, Steven?" You moaned (perhaps a little too theatrically) your hips moving in a sharp blur; chasing every backwards jerk of his hips as much as every graze of that seam against your swollen clit.

"Want me to breed you, baby boy?"

"F-fuck--yes!" He almost bellowed

"Mmmm--" You panted, leaning down to press your chest against his back, his skin almost searing against the flesh of your breasts, "Make me cum, baby."

Steven continued to whimper and sob, arching and rolling his hips back to meet your thrusts, the jostling and tugging of the strap making those flames of pleasure lick up your spine as the vibrator pulsed and buzzed inside of you; the heat pooling in your belly battering down the walls of your self restraint.

Steven gasped and twitched, his hand going still for a moment on his dick as the first thick rope of his cum shot from the tip, coating the sheets and his hand as he picked it back up again.

You kept pumping inside of him--the sight and sound of him coming undone making your muscles go taut and flex as your own orgasm washed over you, his sweet voice muttering your name again and again as his cum began to soak into the fabric below him.

You barely had enough focus to remember the pump in your hand. You thrust once, twice, and on the third and final thrust your hand squeezed a final time, your "cum" shooting from your cock and flowing into him.

And, oh, the sounds leaving his mouth were downright sinful. They surely would have blocked any person from reaching the gates of heaven had they been uttered by a holy man.

Well... maybe holy in a different kind of religion...

As your hearts stilled, you slowly pulled out of him and watched as the white fluid dripped from his twitching hole and rolled away, onto your back as you panted for sweet oxygen--the bedroom felt so hot and humid. The smell of sweat and sex soaked into the very molecules of air between you.

You rolled onto your side as Steven collapsed, your fingers shakily reaching for the remote to turn off your vibrator as your body shuddered to a stop, the aftershocks of your orgasm finally washing away like the tide.

"You alive?" You huffed at him, reaching out to comb your fingers through his soaking wet curls.

He turned his face to you, then, a blissed-out smile on his face as he blinked his adorable little doe-eyes at you.

"I... ah.... better than okay." He mumbled, reaching out to grasp your hand in his. "You?"

"I think I found a new favorite hobby..." You grinned at him as you wiped sweat from your brow.

"Oh... I'm right properly fucked, aren't I?" He joked tiredly.

You leaned over and kissed his temple, where the vein throbbed beneath your lips.

"Oh, absolutely."

#🌙 answered #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader

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juustokaku · 2 months ago

Text

Confidentiality - Chapter 3. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

T/W: This story will include talk about mental health struggles such as body dysmorphia, paranoid thoughts and more. Possessive and obsessive behavior. Dark themes are to be expected.

A/N: This chapter has only Yeosang, Wooyoung and San. Some of the other members are only briefly mentioned, because I'm trying to introduce the characters at a moderate pace, so it won't feel too packed. Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed and read my story!

Word count: 3 829

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A ring of a bell startled you as you walked inside a cafe. You weren’t a scaredy-cat usually. Your mind was as sane, stable and rational as could be, you had convinced yourself. But those days, you were sure that something bad was about to happen.

You were feeling constantly on edge, after you had read the ominous words on the piece of paper Jongho had hidden inside your mitten a few days ago.

It was foolish, even you recognized it, but you had thrown that mitten away. Those mittens had been knitted for you by your grandma during her last days. Although they probably wouldn’t have had any monetary value, they were a symbol of your grandma’s strength in fighting her illness.

You wished you had even an ounce of her strength. You two had different disorders, but if you just were strong like her and could feel like you were safe, you wouldn’t have had to throw the mitten in the trash.

But what else were you supposed to do? If Jongho managed to hide a message for you in there, he could have set a tracker in it as easily. After those warning words on the paper, you felt like your life was threatened even more than before.

Looking around the cafe, you realized only now that you had never been there. But now that you were inside, you never wanted to get out.

It was quite small but the decorations and atmosphere made up for it. If you didn’t enjoy the sweet scent of products of diligent baking, appreciation for the visuals was a must.

The counter was the first thing that caught your attention. Soft hues of blue, pink, red and everything else with even softer creamy toppings on the pastries had an appeal to them that no customer could resist. They were presented in a way that no-one could walk past them without at least looking twice.

It was almost Valentine’s Day so everything was lovely and pretty almost in a sickening way. Just the right way to help you focus on the atmosphere instead of your difficult feelings.

It was quiet there, no superfluous music in the background, just people enjoying each other’s company or reading a book alone. This was just what you needed to clear your head.

Just then, you caught a glimpse of someone familiar, coming to view with a tray in his hands. But you just couldn’t believe your own eyes. This was definitely not what you had expected to see, when you woke up that morning, feeling terminally anxious and hoping for some relief.

But you did not complain.

“Yeosang?”

The said man almost slapped himself accidentally as he covered his face as quick as he could with the tray when he heard you call out his name.

You took in the sight of Yeosang dressed up; he had baby pink trousers and t-shirt on, his biceps stretching out the sleeves deliciously. A ruffled, white apron on his body made him look even cuter, kind of like a househusband.

Although you found the tiny angel wings attached to his back adorable, a text on the apron snatched your immediate interest.

“Hug me!” the text demanded.

“W-Welcome to this cafe... What would you like to order?” Yeosang squeaked out, still hiding behind the tray to save his dignity.

“Are the hugs free or should I pay for them?”

Yeosang peeked behind the tray to meet your eyes, his own filled with curiosity and confusion. Only after you pointed at his apron, he realized you were talking about the text.

“It’s free... just for you,” Yeosang managed to give you a shy smile.

“I was just kidding. You don’t have to hug me.”

You had no idea which fountain of confidence you had drank from to be able to joke with Yeosang like this. But those few times you had talked to him were able to make your anxious heart calm down a little. Well, not completely; now your heart was fluttering with a different kind of anxiety.

Yeosang looked almost disappointed as you told him he doesn’t have to hug you.

“But what if I want to?” he asked.

Speechless for a moment, you looked at Yeosang with lips slightly parted in surprise. He was staring at you, hoping you’d answer positively and wouldn’t shot him down.

“Then let’s hug,” you said before you could think rationally.

Yeosang could be hiding a knife in the pocket of his apron which he would stab you with. Maybe the knife would be a butter knife so it’d make your death excruciatingly slow and painful.

“How... How do I hug you?”

“Just a normal hug,” the way you answered sounded confused. How else should Yeosang hug you?

He held onto the tray tightly. His knuckles were turning white unlike his red face.

“I haven’t hugged anyone in many years. I’m not sure if I remember anymore how to hug.”

Silently, your heart shattered into smithereens. You had thought you were socially anxious but Yeosang was on the next level.

“Open your arms,” you guided.

Yeosang did as told and opened his arms widely.

You stepped nervously closer and wrapped your arms around his torso. It was unbelievable that you were doing this.

But as soon as Yeosang let his arms slowly embrace you and sighed in contentment, you knew you had made the correct decision by hugging him. It felt surprisingly right to have his buff arms around you.

You could feel his body sharing its warmth slowly with yours, and it made you strangely a little comfortable. Yeosang wasn’t the only one who had needed a hug. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember when was the last time you had hugged someone.

But as you tried to break the hug gently, Yeosang held you even tighter. It wasn’t squeezing yet however you couldn’t wiggle out of his grip.

“Y-Yeosang, you can let go now.”

“A little moment longer, please.”

Yeosang pressed his face to your neck, and you could hear him sniffing it. A small hum of satisfaction vibrated through his body. His breath tickled your neck, and you felt goosebumps form on your skin.

The comfortable hug had turned into a creepy one quickly. You tried to remind yourself that Yeosang hadn’t hugged anyone in a long time, so his desperate attitude was forgivable.

The way your heart had fluttered in excitement before turned into a gnawing feeling of anxiety as Yeosang didn’t let go.

“Y/N!”

Yeosang let go of you quickly as Wooyoung’s loud voice demanded your attention.

Your savior Wooyoung had arrived with San following closely behind him.

“Oh, and Yeosang too. Hi,” Wooyoung just nodded at the said man briefly before turning to you.

“Where’s my hug at?” he pouted playfully.

You knew Wooyoung was just joking but you had to resist the cringe that was about to creep up on your face.

“She used all her available hugs for today already,” Yeosang answered.

San chuckled a little, clearly humored, “I’m sure she can be charitable and give us a few hugs as well.”

“Uh yeah, I guess,” you shrugged, biting your lip nervously.

“Here I come!”

Wooyoung’s warning barely even reached your ears before he was already hugging you tightly. Yeosang had been almost squeezing you but Wooyoung was definitely more than ‘almost’.

Luckily it was a short hug since you had been nearly suffocating, as it seemed like he was trying to kill by smothering you with love.

You would have rather been a victim of Wooyoung’s murder though than hug San. Wooyoung and Yeosang weren’t familiar to you either but you hadn’t talked to San more than probably two sentences.

There was nothing wrong with San. He seemed respectful, and God was he handsome, but you had already felt a little uneasy to be locked into Yeosang and Wooyoung’s embraces.

“You don’t have to hug me if you feel uncomfortable,” San smiled at you reassuringly.

Now you would have just felt bad for not hugging him. He didn’t pressure you in any way; not with his body language nor with his words.

But it was possible he was trying to manipulate you with his kindness. After all, under the resistant shell that tried to keep you safe, you had a tender heart. Some people were able to see through your shell straight into your soft spots and take advantage of them.

“It’s not like I have something against you, I just don’t know you as well yet.”

San nodded, the smile on his face understanding. The smile just didn’t quite reach his eyes which looked dejected.

“Do you want to get to know me then?”

His face was so hopeful that you didn’t have the heart to reject him.

“Sure,” you smiled nervously, “You can sit next to me if you’d like to.”

This time San’s smile made his eyes look like little crescents, “Great! Shall we find a spot to sit at?”

“I’m joining you two,” Wooyoung informed determinedly, leaving no room for disagreement.

You honestly felt relieved that Wooyoung was joining. That way San would pay less attention to you and the way you fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

Yeosang watched as the three of you walked away. Disappointed, he pouted as you left but decided that this wouldn’t be the end of his and your interaction for today.

“Here you go,” San pulled a chair out for you as you found a table to sit at.

His respectfulness was attractive, you noticed yourself thinking. But still, it was important to remember he might have had bad intentions.

You smiled at him gratefully and sat down. San seemed trustworthy enough that you could push the suspicions out of your head for a moment. Hopefully he hadn’t planted a camera on the chair that would record footage of your butt, although you believed there was nothing special to see anyway.

Then you felt something sticky where you had just sat down.

You got up quickly from the chair and took a look at it. Chocolate sauce on the chair. Chocolate sauce on your bottom.

Of course, now it looked like you had had a serious accident.

“I-I...” you tried to say something.

“I’m so sorry! I should have checked the chair before offering it to you!” San panicked.

“Y/N crapped her pants!” Wooyoung burst out laughing as he took a look at your butt.

San turned to Wooyoung angrily, “Shut up! She did not!”

“Did little Y/N have to go potty? Did you eat too many beans?”

Your face was burning up. From humiliation or anger? You did not know. Tears were threatening to well up in your eyes.

“Wooyoung, stop talking before I cut your tongue off.”

San’s tone of voice was so dangerous that Wooyoung shut his mouth instantly. That didn’t stop his little giggles though.

“I’m sorry. Let’s go to the restroom to wash your pants...” San shook his head in shame.

You felt him take your hand gently into his to lead you to the restroom. Covering your butt with your other hand, you let him take you away from the curious eyes and quiet laughter of people.

San was mumbling apologies as he led you to a restroom meant for disabled people.

You wondered why San took you to that specific restroom. It was private. It was a closed space. You would have a hard time escaping him if it came to that. It would be child’s play for San to just stand in front of the door and block you from going out.

When the two of you were inside the restroom, locked up, you felt your heart racing.

“We have to wash your pants,” San started sheepishly, “You have to take them off for that.”

It wasn’t unexpected of you to get shocked, “Could you go out then, please?”

“Please, let me help you. This is my fault.”

San’s pleading expression made you want to give in. But regardless of his feelings or sad puppy eyes, it was way too risky to let him be there.

“No. You can wait outside the door, and I’ll call you in if I need help.”

The pout on his face didn’t waver your determination, so San just left the restroom, sighing in disappointment at himself.

You took off your pants and looked at exactly how bad the situation was. It was bad. No wonder Wooyoung had laughed so loud.

But no matter how much you used the cheap hand soap and cold water on the stain, it didn’t leave. It felt like the stain just spread wider, soon the size of a tennis ball. You groaned in despair. This was really it. You’d either walk out with a “shit stain” on your pants or with no pants at all.

There was a knock on the door.

“Y/N? Did you get the stain off?”

“No,” you answered San, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Get your pants back on.”

“Why? They still look like my rectum exploded.”

You could hear a stifled little laugh San let out behind the door before he responded.

“You can have my shirt and wrap it around your waist. That way it’ll cover your butt.”

For a moment, you considered San’s suggestion. It sounded decent but there was one problem.

“But... you wouldn’t have a shirt on that way.”

“I have a jacket. Unlock the door, please. I’ll be coming in in a few seconds.”

Once you had pants on you unlocked the door, and soon enough, San stepped in, carrying his black jacket. Before you could say a word, he unlocked the door and to your shock – and excitement – started taking his shirt off.

“Ah! What are you doing?!” you covered your eyes.

San just said gently, “I’m giving you my shirt. I couldn’t undress in the public area of the cafe.”

“Why didn’t you undress in the men’s restroom and come here after that?”

A moment of silence.

“Hm. Good point. Too late though.”

As San tapped your hands, you took them off your face to accept the shirt.

The shirt wasn’t the only thing you received though. Your eyes received quite a gift as well: seeing San’s naked upper body.

It had always been clear that San had a toned body. You had been able to see it through his clothes as well. But now that his bare chest was there in front of your eyes in all its glory, a gasp escaped your mouth before you could stop it.

“Oh. Nice shirt,” you attempted to focus on the piece of clothing instead of San’s body.

“If you like it, you can have it for yourself.”

“What? No, it’s yours,” your brows were furrowed in confusion.

“I want you to remember me by something.”

That was weird. San and you barely knew each other but he was already speaking like that. You two shouldn’t have had any emotional connection yet.

“You make it sound like you’re going to die.”

San chuckled, “Just accept my shirt. It’d look better on you than on me anyways.”

It was a nice shirt indeed, but you had complimented it primarily because you wanted to focus on somewhere else than San’s nudity.

“Well, okay... Thank you,” you murmured shyly as you took the shirt and wrapped it around your waist, finally covering that shameful stain. Wooyoung’s gleeful cackling was still ringing in your ears as a memory of the humiliation.

“Look at me.”

At San’s request you turned your gaze at him. You tried your best to pay attention only to his face although your eyes threatened to glide over his chest.

“Please, tell me you like what you see.”

You got surprised by how desperate he sounded, the plead coming out almost like a whimper. He left no time for you to even answer;

“What do I have to do? What do I have to change? I’ll do anything.”

“You’re already good, San... What are you talking about?”

San looked into your eyes intensely, despair deep in his dark brown ones. He took a step towards you.

Your heart nearly jumped up your throat as he got closer. Oh, how stupid you had been to allow San to get inside the same, locked restroom.

“Why didn’t you hug me then?”

“I-I just don’t know you that well yet.”

“But you hugged Yeosang and Wooyoung! You embraced Yeosang like he was your lover,” San started sounding frustrated, and it scared you.

Then again, a knock on the door. A moment of silence followed it until Wooyoung spoke.

“I heard my name. Come out, I’m bored.”

San sighed and glanced at you sadly before stepping out of the restroom. He still didn’t have anything on his upper body.

As Wooyoung saw San appear before him, his voice suddenly turned tense. You could hear the dark tone buried under a teasing, playful one.

“Ah~ What were you two doing there? Why is San coming out shirtless?”

Wooyoung couldn’t fool you or probably anyone. It was so clear that there was something off about him. The way his fists clenched and his lips tightened into a thin line as he stared at you coming out of the restroom.

“San gave me his shirt to cover my butt.”

Wooyoung just laughed a little and shook his head, “No. What did you really do?”

A frown etched on San’s face.

“That’s the truth. I took my shirt off to give it to Y/N.”

“You’re both dirty liars. Tell me right now what you did to her.”

The tension was growing thicker, making you dizzy with anxiety. Wooyoung and San’s somewhat civilized conversation was turning into an argument, but you couldn’t hear their voices anymore. Your mind was somewhere else.

Only Yeosang’s voice brought you back down to Earth.

“Guys. I have to ask you to leave. San is shirtless and arguing with Wooyoung,” Yeosang sounded nervous, “The other customers don’t enjoy listening to this.”

The whole day had been one big embarrassing moment to you. First, you had had to hug Wooyoung and Yeosang. That wasn’t as uncomfortable but when added to the list of looking like you shat yourself, seeing San shirtless, and being told that you were causing a scene, it was too much.

San and Wooyoung understood immediately that it would be best if you three left. A shameful look was on San’s face as he put his puffy jacket on, ready to go out.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s leave this place,” Wooyoung took your hand.

Just as you were about to start following him, Yeosang stopped him.

“I said ‘guys’. Does Y/N look like a guy to you?”

“No, but-”

“She can stay. You two must leave.”

Yeosang was the sternest you had ever seen him but you still couldn’t take him seriously in his outfit. If he didn’t have a silly apron and angel wings on, he would have seemed scarier.

Coming to the cafe hadn’t been as relaxing as you had thought it would be.

You spent the rest of the day there under Yeosang’s eyes that didn’t seem to ever leave your figure. Finally, after having enough of the staring and feeling uncomfortable in your dirty pants, you decided to leave.

The atmosphere in the cafe was utterly different than outside. As you walked past the countless stores, restaurants and cafes in their closing hours, you found comfort in the sound of snow crunching under your feet.

Despite the warm streetlights and even occasionally moon lighting up your way, they couldn’t light up your thoughts. You felt like someone was following you.

That’s why the crunching of the snow was so important. You could hear every step the person took. No other people were in sight which made your heart clench in fear. You were completely alone with a stranger in that dark night. Maybe it wasn’t even a stranger. Like Jongho had said, there might have been a threatening person in the peer support group. And you had a pretty good idea of who it could be.

You accelerated your steps, testing how the person following you would react. And to your horror, the steps behind you accelerated as well, keeping up with your pace.

Every step you took was quicker than the one before that until you were full on running. Your legs felt like they wouldn’t work and lungs like they were burning. You didn’t dare to look behind you. Precious time you needed for your survival would only be lost if you turned around.

But this could be one of the few chances to see who it was.

You whipped your head around, fully prepared to see someone chasing after you. Maybe it was Yunho. Would the police even believe you if you told them that one of their fellow officers, possibly even friends, was stalking you?

But there was absolutely no-one. The night was as silent as could be. No moving cars, no people, no animals. Only snow falling softly on your head and melting the moment it descended.

You stood there like a fool until you realized that this all could have been a trap. The stalker might have been tricking you into staying in your place for a little while before striking. So, with one last look to the darkness behind you, you headed to the darkness ahead of you.

The trip was excruciatingly long and anxiety-inducing. When you finally arrived in your small apartment, you locked the door. As usual, you also made sure the chain lock was placed correctly. You had survived.

Someone had been following you, you were sure of that. It couldn’t have been just your imagination.

You sat down on the floor against the door. Exhaustion due to the running had made your chest and legs ache but you couldn’t care less. Suffering from pain, if it meant that you survived, was worth it.

“Unlock the door, please.”

You flinched as a small voice of a man called out. It sounded sad.

“Unlock the door. I’m begging.”

This time, the voice was desperate. There was no way in hell that the man behind your door had come with good intentions.

“Y/N. Unlock the fucking door.”

You scrambled away from the door, getting up on your shaky feet when you heard the demand. Your legs almost gave out, making your attempt of standing firmly and ready look pathetic.

You couldn’t recognize the voice. Feeling completely lost and unsafe even though you were inside your own home, you desperately tried to come up with any ideas of who the man could be.

“Open the door, Y/N. Don’t you want to see me? Don’t you trust me?”

“Let me in or I’ll come uninvited.”

“Open the door, love. Please.”

The time was ticking away. It was the moment to make your choice. Would you unlock the door or keep it locked?

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<- Chapter 2.

Chapter 4. ->

Masterlist

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Taglist: @devilzliaison

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