#Upcoming Brand in Office Chairs

[officechairsmanufacturer]

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[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Pre-Show Ritual (18+)

“Do I have something on my face?”

You ran a hand across your mouth, glancing down to your palm to confirm before looking up at Jack. He was sitting no more than 10 feet across from you in the greenroom, backstage at The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, in an armchair that matched the one you were sitting in.

You had tagged along with Jack and his team for a quick trip to NYC, Jack set to perform his new single “What’s Poppin” in his first TV performance. There is no way you were going to miss this, and it had always been a secret bucket list item for you to see a taping of Jimmy Fallon and get a chance to meet him.

The greenroom had cleared out about five minutes earlier when Neelam and Urban walked over to the side stage to see the other guest interviews, leaving you and Jack alone. Jack had been weirdly quiet the whole day, giving out one-word answers to your excited questions about his upcoming performance. You looked at him, taking in his form. He had chosen a white bomber jacket with “Louisville” in large, embroidered letters across the front, always taking the opportunity to rep his hometown, khaki pants with random patches on his thigh and knees and his favorite New Balance sneakers. Jack was superstitious, always choosing the same gray New Balance sneakers for his performances. While they felt a little “middle aged dad with three kids from the ‘burbs” to you, he had managed to make them seem cool and classic. The last thing you noticed was the gaudy BB Simon belt he had on, embellished with Swarovski crystals, a prop for his song where he mentioned the brand, a nod to early 2000s rap culture. 

While he was obviously looking in your direction, you could tell that he was zoned out, his left leg jiggling in an anxious rhythm, not paying attention to you scarfing down a sandwich from the craft services table across the room, and not analyzing your face for any mustard you may have left on your face.

“Jack- baby?” You snapped in his direction, him reacting with a shake of his head, taking a moment to rake his hand through his mop of brown curls before meeting your eyes. “Everything okay?”, you asked responding to a look of worry across his face.

You placed your empty plate on the table between you two and rubbed your hands on your thighs, the dark wash denim acting as a pseudo napkin. You had chosen to dress comfortably, a basic hoodie underneath a trench coat you had copped from a vintage store in LA. Most of these performance days were sent waiting around in a room, so you knew better than to dress to the nines.

He still hadn’t answered you as you stood and made your way over to his chair, squatting down in front of him, using his knee for leverage. You rested you head on your closed fists and began to study his face.

Jack was usually the most confident man in any room, referring to himself as an alpha male, much to your annoyance and amusement. There was just something about him that made everyone he came across an immediate fan of him and his work. You liked to think that it was that he was so God damn handsome, towering over most people, and had a smile dentists would use in their office advertisements. While you still saw all those things in him tonight, you could tell he was uncharacteristically nervous.

“Talk to me baby, what’s going on?” you placed a hand on his leg to stop his shaking and grabbed both of his hands in yours, placing gentle kisses on his knuckles. He leaned toward you, gazing into your eyes and giving you a weak smile. “Nothing- just pre-performance nerves I guess.”

“You’ve done hundreds of performances in front of way more people then are out there tonight, this is nothing!” Jack dropped your hands lightly into your lap in response to your comment, getting up quickly and making his way over to craft table, fumbling with the basket of fruit set off to the side. “This is not just any performance” he takes a bite out of a granny smith apple with a questionable waxy exterior “this is TV. Millions of people are going to see this performance and I just don’t want to fuck anything up. You know how much my mom loves Jimmy”, his mouth still full of fruit. You reached out toward him to get his attention, knowing he hated green apples, but stopped short when you realized he was occupied. You couldn’t help but giggle as he gestured around wildly, pacing back and forth through the small room and making circles around your standing body, trying to convince not only you, but himself that he was way in over his head.

“What are you laughing at?” he stopped short of you, dropping what was left of the apple core in the trash, his eyebrows scrunched in an inquisitive manner. You grabbed both of his arms, pinning them to his side, hoping to keep him from continuing his tirade long enough to calm his nerves.

“You are fuckin’ adorable when you’re nervous, you know that?” you let out a belly laugh and placed your hands on his cheeks, using your thumbs to rub against his scraggly beard that you loved way too much. It made him look so sexy. You could tell that your attempt was working, Jack placing his hands around your waist, pulling you in closer. You moved your hands down from his beard, slowly tracing your hands down his shoulders, making sure to graze lightly over his pecs, feeling how strong and tight his body felt underneath at least two layers of clothing.

Anxiety quickly turned to lust in his bright blue eyes as Jack followed your movements, temporarily forgetting that he was about to get on the biggest stage of his career, his mind suddenly clouded with impure thoughts. As you continued to make your way down his body, Jack let out an involuntary shiver. Your hand landed on his belt buckle when he started to pull away, against his “better” judgement. “What are you doing, Y/N? As much as I would love to fuck you right here on this couch” he glanced over at the supple leather couch that must have been worth a small fortune, placing a kiss on your lips before continuing “you know I’ve got a thing for sex in public places, and this one would take the cake, I don’t want anyone to walk in on us. I’ve got a reputation to protect!” He gave you a big smile, and you matched it, knowing that he was lying. You both knew he’d love to be the rapper that was known for all his sexual conquests. He had shown you the list on his phone of all the places he wanted you both to “get it on.” (His words, not yours).

“You’re right, but I think I know the way to fix that problem”, you looked over his shoulder at the closed door. You sauntered over to the door, exaggerating the swing of your hips, Jack chucking at your attempt at seduction from afar. You quickly turned the lock of the door, the metal clang echoing throughout the room. You quickly turned to face Jack, your back pressed against the door, eyes narrowed as you focused in on what you were sure was going to release all the anxiety and stress from Jack’s body. “C’mere.” You reached out your hands in an innocent manner, no more suggestive of a hug. Jack quickly made his way to your arms, prepared to sink into your affection, when you quickly flipped the script and swung him around, so he was the one against the door. He hit is head during the flip, his face grimacing, reaching up to rub the back of his head.

“I’m so sorry boo!” Your hand slapped across your mouth in surprise, “are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He replied, now in a full fit of laughter with this situation being just what he needed to get his mind off things.

“Let’s try this again” you pressed into his body, planting a hard, passionate kiss on his lips that lasted a few seconds, both of you leaning into one another and becoming handsy. Jack slid his hands down to your low back, his fingers tangled into the waistband of your jeans, grabbing a handful of your ass in a way that made you moan in surprise. To catch your breath, you broke the seal between your lips, just mere millimeters away from another interaction. Jack kept his eyes closed in anticipation of this make out session continuing, but you had other plans.

“Look at me”, your tone made his eyes shoot open, his vision having to adjust to how close your faces were. You began to work on his belt buckle, slowly pulling the leather out of the buckle, hesitating to pull the prong out of the holes, not breaking eye contact. He had trouble concentrating on your command, his blood supply rushing to a more important area now.

“You know what made me fall in love with you?” the belt was now undone, and you began working on the button and zipper of his jeans, “I can think of a few things” Jack responded, his cockiness coming out through uneven breaths. “My height?” Jack ran his fingers up and down the small of your back as you fumbled with his pants, little space between you to making it more difficult to get to your goal. “Nope, that’s not it,” the only thing keeping you from his erected cock was his boxers, and you slipped your hand down his pants, grabbing his length in your grip, causing him to immediately groan in ecstasy. You used your left hand to slowly begin stroking his length, intent on making him feel good before he went on stage.  Your right hand went to the base of his neck, providing support he so desperately needed to prevent him from buckling at the knees. “My smile?” Jack had to concentrate desperately hard to even think of anything past how good this felt, but he was enjoying having both his ego and dick stroked at the same time. “No, although that’s definitely up there on the list”, you responded pressing kisses on his neck, his chin, his cheeks to prolong his pleasure, meeting his lips in another passionate kiss, though he could barely reciprocate, only managing a deep guttural moan in your mouth. You began to quicken your strokes on his cock, his pelvis pulling in towards you at the change of pace, and you realized that he was getting close to cuming.

“Fuck, that feels amazing,” he praised your actions, leaning his head on your shoulder as his stomach contracted and his body collapsed, his breathing getting louder, frequent grunts and moans ensuring you were giving him exactly what he needed.  You leaned your head against his, your lips close enough to whisper into his ear.  Without stopping the speed and aggressiveness as you rounded the head of his cock in the way you knew he liked during a hand job, you listed some of his best features. “I love your hair, your shoulders, chest hair that trails down your stomach to your-“ you didn’t bother to finish your sentence; you both knew what you were referencing. “But most of all- I love that you don’t let anyone tell you what you can’t do” the end of your sentence was punctuated by Jack cuming into your hand, you continuing to stroke him through to the end of his orgasm.

You took your time removing your hand from Jack’s cock, relishing in the fact that you were the one that made him cum like that, that you were responsible for his pleasure, his reassurance, his relief. As you turned to wipe your hands clean in the bathroom, Jack adjusted and closed his pants button, and buckled his belt back. He took a moment to regain his consciousness and take a deep breath in response to what had just happened. He wasn’t anxious anymore. In fact, he felt fucking good, and more than ready for his first primetime performance.

After washing your hands, you glanced at yourself in the mirror, adjusting your hair and makeup, downright giddy to see Jack perform. You always felt like a proud girlfriend seeing him doing the thing he loves (second to you of course). Jack appeared in the doorframe, wrapping his arms behind you, humming in your ear. You met his eyes in the mirror and realized that his face had completely changed from earlier. This was the man you fell in love with, the self-proclaimed alpha male.

“Thank you, baby,” Jack brushed your hair off your shoulder and planted a kiss on your neck as you laid back into his hold, leaning your head to the side to expose more skin.  He lingered here, planting gentle kisses in the same place, his lips barely touching your skin in a way that made your whole-body shiver. “Whatever are you talking about?” You played coy, hoping to sneak in a few more kisses. “You know just what to do to get me out of my head. And God, you sure do know how to make a man feel good”. You turned in his hold, making your chest meet his, locking eyes on his lips, brushing your thumb against his bottom lip. As if you were making conversation with just his mouth, you held your gaze there. “I meant everything I said, even in the heat of the moment. I love so many things about you,” you looked up at him, his blue eyes sparkling, hanging on your every word, “It doesn’t matter how many people are going to see your performance, live or on the internet tomorrow. You are one of the most talented people I know, and this is only the beginning of what’s going to be an amazing career.” You grabbed Jack’s face in your hands, your kiss this time more delicate, romantic and filled with love then those before. A knock on the door interrupted your personal moment. “Jack, you’re on in five minutes”. The PA sounded rushed and overly tired on the other side of the door, Jack being her third guest she had to round up tonight. Jack bounded over to the door, quietly un-latching the lock, swinging it open to meet a petite woman with wild, curly blonde hair, a headset barely visible through the mess of locks. She was holding a walkie-talkie and clipboard haphazardly, papers randomly held beneath the clip. k

“Great, yeah I’m ready”, Jack looked back at you as he stepped into the busy hallway. Urban was waiting in the hallway, snapping pictures to try to get the best behind the scenes shot as Jack made his way to the stage. “I’m right behind you!”, you yelled behind him, guessing he probably didn’t hear you. You walked down the hall through the crowd of employees and fans of people up to the side stage and stood next to Neelam while you watched Jack get hooked up with a mic pack by the tech assistant. Jack shook off his last-minute nerves like he was about to run through the tunnel at an NBA game, and you gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up, paired with a bright smile that could barely be seen in the dark.

“This song is my jam right now. Making his TV debut, performing “What’s Poppin’”, give it up for Jack Harlow!” Jimmy sat behind his iconic desk as he held an image of Jack’s album, announcing his next guest. The music began playing as the audience cheered. You, Neelam and Urban all began dancing in place to the performance, agreeing that Jack sounded amazing. Neelam bumped you with her elbow in your side to get your attention. “Hey, what changed? When we got here Jack was a mess?”. “I just gave him a pep talk! He just needed to be reminded why he is the best”. You gave Neelam a cheeky smile and then quickly turned back to the performance, so your face didn’t give anything else away. Jack had just hit the final verse of his song. “Well, whatever you did, it worked”. Neelam begins to clap as the song ends, walking towards Jack as he runs backstage.

#jack harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow fanfic

[theautisticjedi]

Fulfilled That Promise a Bit Too Late

Charlie has a new animatronic design to show her father.

Just a quick little idea I've had floating around my head for awhile, title suggested by @north-noire, thanks again for letting me fill your message box with angst

You can also read it on ao3

"Daddy, look what I drew!" Charlie called out as she burst into her father's office. 

Henry greeted her with a smile, while William's reaction was a poorly hid sneer. 

"Charlotte, you know the rules," William reminded, crossing his arms. The 'no children allowed policy' was something implemented at both their office's, however Henry was always more lax with it then he should be, at least in William's opinion. 

Henry waved his hand in William's direction to dismiss him, before scooping the toddler up into his arms. "What did you draw for me today?" 

"A new anim-animon-" 

"'Animatronic?'" Henry finished. 

"Yes! I drew you a brand new one," she handed him her drawing. 

Henry took a look, seeing a drawing of a black bear with a yellow star on his chest and bright red cheeks. He looked a lot like Freddy.

"Oh angel this is beautiful," Henry grinned. 

Charlie smiled at the praise, "His name is Lefty!" 

"Lefty?" William snorted, scooting his chair up to get a closer look at the drawing. 

"Yeah!" Charlie exclaimed, not noticing her Uncle's snide tone. "He'd be on stage and singing with the rest of the band. Do you think you could build him?" 

"We already have a bear, we don't need two of them." William replied. 

"William," Henry gave his friend a stern look, before turning back to Charlie. "I'll definitely think about it, I think Lefty is very unique." He stood up, balancing her on his hip, and placed the drawing next to the blueprints for upcoming animatronics. 

"Now, isn't it time for your nap? Come on, I'll put you to bed." He carried her out of the office and to her bedroom, tucking her into bed before shutting the curtains. 

"Daddy, do you really think you'll build Lefty?" She asked softly. 

"Of course I do, Uncle Will and I want to make this a franchise, and we'll need all sorts of new characters for each restaurant. I bet Lefty would fit right in one day." 

“Promise?”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "I promise, now get some sleep, I love you." 

"I love you too," She yawned, as he flicked off the lights and shut the door. 

…

"Daddy, do you really think you'll build Lefty?" 

Charlie's words echoed in Henry's head as he stared at the finished animatronic in front of him. He looked exactly like how she'd drawn him. She would have been thrilled at this. 

He wondered if she'd recognize him, if she had any memories at all. 

"Uncle Henry?" Michael's voice broke through the garage. "Is it ready?" 

Henry nodded, powering up the animatronic. Lefty twitched and sprung to life, Henry taking a deep breath as he watched his creation step out into the night air. 

He knew the next time he'd see him, Charlie, the Marionette, would be trapped inside. 

He needed this to succeed. For Charlie. For himself. 

"I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now."

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #charlie emily #charlotte emily #henry emily #william afton #fanfiction #fanfic

[pangtasias-atelier]

Seteth is gifted a cursed box of confections by Linhardt after getting on his case for being lazy. The curse makes him lethargic and gluttonous and over time he starts to lose control around food and gets extremely obese and loses his sense of decorum and poise. Eventually he figures out Lin is the culprit and turns the tables on him, leaving the monastery with two immobile fat men.

These Seteth requests I swear y'all are trying to kill me asjbhanjsbj. I love writing about men getting fat as fuck and kinda just only caring about eating and stuffing themselves.

Hope you enjoy this cause this got long and also wanted to like not drag out my like descriptions than usual and do a bit more little timeskips.

Warning: This is a fetish story!

Linhardt looks at his future experiment. He does his best to not betray any emotion, not that he needs to when Seteth keeps his focus directed to his desk and the papers that occupy it.

“Here you are, Seteth. A gift for properly giving me a chance,” Linhardt extends an olive branch to Seteth. A crisp, pristine wrapped box of chocolates are in his outstretched, slightly pudgy hand. The confections show no mark or branding of any chocolatier. 

Still working at his desk despite the orange and pink hues that trickle from the sunset sky into his window, Seteth finishes his current signature before looking up at Linhardt. His green eyes widen in surprise at the generously sized gift. “Oh, why thank you,” Seteth accepts the gift and places it on his desk after clearing away the organized stacks of signed paperwork into their proper filing. “I apologize for my… earlier apprehension towards your application. But I will have to repay you for such a fine gift along with your stellar performance,” 

“There’s no need. All I ask is that you enjoy them, since I made them myself,”

At that, Seteth’s ears perk up. And it takes every muscle in Seteth’s body to not reach up to feel if his draconic ears are exposed despite his current employee well aware of his true nature along with most others who fought with him in the war a couple years ago. “I’m sure I’ll appreciate such a finely handcrafted delicacy if your wrapping is any indication,” 

“Perfect. Well then, I have some tests that unfortunately won’t grade themselves,” Linhardt leaves with his gift handed out. He gently closes the door to Seteth’s office and promptly allows himself to let out a sigh after walking down the hallway and making a turn into his own office. “Finally. Now I can get him off my case,” Linhardt’s bones crack as he stretches, slightly filled out limbs stretched above his head. He arches his back; the small bump that is his flabby belly he’s gained from extra snacks while working presses against the narrow, form fitting waistband and the bottom flaps of his vest, the navy blue fabric of his shirt slightly yet notably bulging from the extra sliver of pudge. 

Grabbing some of his own chocolate from his stash of snacks in the bottommost right drawer, he plops himself onto his well cushioned chair. “If only he’d get off my case all the time, maybe I’d give him the usual chocolate I make,” The thickly sweet caramel coats his tongue as he pops an entire piece of chocolate into his mouth. Linhard does his work, doing his best to not think about the upcoming future. 

Or more properly, Seteth’s future. 

“All done,” Seteth says to no one but himself. He only takes a couple more minutes to properly sort the finished forms and place them into their designated areas to be handed out tomorrow. As soon as he finishes his day’s work, his flat stomach growls. His nose twitches from the surprisingly aromatic scent wafting from the chocolates on his desk. “I suppose one won’t hurt before dinner,” Seteth unwraps the delicately packaged box, picks out the top left chocolate, not without first tossing away the packaging in his small trash bin, and doesn’t think before eating the whole chocolate into his mouth despite usually only taking a small bite to truly savor and appreciate such treats. Unaware of the magic infused into his gift, Seteth holds back a choked moan at the explosion of bitter yet sweet milk chocolate paired with just perfectly salted almonds. Before Seteth can even register his actions, he grabs a second chocolate. And then a third. His mouth is assaulted by a deep, rich dark chocolate filled with the perfect sliver of caramel and then a cloyingly sweet milk chocolate embittered by the strawberry jam at its center. Seteth’s swallows down all the budding saliva from his now suddenly famished state. He clears his throat and fixes his still unwrinkled attire and stands up. “I will make sure to savor these,” He unknowingly lies to himself as he closes the box with the highest amount of willpower he needs before walking at a brisk pace towards the mess hall.

Unaware of gluttonous magic cursed into the chocolate given to him, Seteth begins his descent into pure, unabashed hedonism, his surprising second serving and even more shocking third serving at dinner clearly demonstrating the magic’s potent effect.

______________

Seteth stares at the box of chocolate in front of him. Only having them for a week, the box manages to surprisingly be only half empty. The still sizable amount of chocolate left comes from some restraint on Seteth’s part. Though he finds himself devouring several plates of food to keep himself from eating all the chocolate.

The chocolates cursed with gluttonous magic, the spells have taken clear hold of Seteth. In both his appetite and figure. Seteth sports a potbelly now, the bundle of flab a brand new addition in all his years of living. Seteth's small bundle of flab that makes up his stomach isn't the only addition to him from all his binging. His entire frame is thicker, each limb sporting a small yet generous coating of flab; Seteth's arms a bit wider, the lean, defined musculature of his biceps are still there despite the extra bit of fat on him. His thighs are the same. His legs are in a snug yet somehow still comfortable state with his pants. Thankfully, Seteth has his pants covered by his outfit. Not that Seteth needs to upsize his attire. He comes close to needing it however. His sleeves are already a bit loose fitting. The white fabric still has some extra stretch and give to them. And his overcoat manages to still keep every single button without popping. His chest does struggle slightly with stretching the fabric, the blue material taut against his budding man boobs. Unlike the rest of his outfit, Seteth forgoes his belt due to his belly. 

"I-he couldn't have…" Seteth stares down at his seated frame. His pudgy frame far from apparent, he still glares at the small amount of flab that becomes ever so slightly more noticeable with him sitting. The trickling sensation of being peckish begins to invade his thoughts even as his lips are unsatisfactorily upturned at his figure. 

"I already ate lunch," Seteth grumbles to himself. Able to determine that he has in fact been cursed by something, he still holds out on being hopefully wrong about his theory towards the cause of his current predicament. Regardless of the cause, Seteth's own willpower manages to suppress the magic to some extent. He refrains himself to only light snacks periodically throughout the day where he should be glutting out on entree sized dishes every so often. Though even he finds his mental fortitude slipping and weakening as the days go by with the curse's magic only tightening its grip around him much like his clothes. Especially around food. Every fiber in Seteth that tells him to get help always ends up reduced to nothing more than a feeble voice in the back of his mind when allured by the thought of eating and stuffing himself, to properly satisfy his cravings that he deserves to enjoy and fulfill. He even feels that his manners are starting to worsen. Not by much, he thankfully notes; his usually slow methodical eating to properly enjoy his meal and the effort that goes into such a fine treat has slowly turned into more rushed bites and hurried chewing to allow himself to eat more even faster. 

Nearly certain of the culprit, Seteth forlornly stares at the seemingly innocent box of chocolates that are still on his desk. After some moments, he closes his eyes and sighs. A deep breath fills his entire being, the same determination coursing through him when he wielded his spear countless years ago. Seteth grabs the box and with a speed that surprises even him, he holds the awful creation over his trash can. 

His fingers clenched around the box and his throat suddenly parched, his calm demeanor breaks into a near painful frown as he slams the box back onto his desk and opens it. He crams the chocolate down his throat, half of the remaining chocolate frantically and messily shoved against his lips. He barely even tastes the addictingly sweet confections. His pathetic moans come out choked, the slightly melted chocolate muffling his whines. 

Seteth's face and hands are a mess after his sudden action. Staring at the last quarter of chocolate that remains, his blank stare quickly turns into a scornful glare. Not at the chocolates, but at the oh so nice person who gave them to him.

Thoughts churn in Seteth's mind—stuffing himself with food always on the periphery of each and every single idea—as he plots out his revenge. 

The magic so deeply rooted in his mind and body now, Seteth doesn't even have an inkling of a thought to reverse his situation. 

_____________

Currency watching his obese lab rat up close, Linhardt doesn’t need to put much effort into hiding his person watching. 

Linhardt no longer needs to worry about much anything nowadays with Seteth off his case regarding anything and everything. Originally giving the chocolate for revenge for Seteth always pestering him over deadlines far away and over countless upon countless thinly veiled guidelines offered as tips, even Linhardt hadn't expected his magic to work so potently.

Seteth is an absolute butterball now. Currently eating away, his size and gluttony no longer causes a scene anymore with it just another part of daily life in Garreg Mach. He uses his own seat, the center of the bench taken over by Seteth's large figure. The back of his large ass spills off the bench and his thighs are squished and pressed against the front edge of the bench. His stomach sags far down onto his lap. At least, the portion of his gut that isn't crammed against the table, the wood partially upholding Seteth's massive belly that's heavy enough to cradle with two sets of arms and still struggle to support and fat enough to sag past his blubbery fat pad that is snugly pressed in-between the lard of his gut and thighs. And his heavy chest that is burdened by the weight of all the lard that's accumulated and piled onto each swollen tit rests on his gut like a heavy, busty shelf. Both of Seteth's breasts splay out on both sides of his gut. So fat, they press against his own blubbery love handles. And also his arms that are wider than his pudgy face as they reach forward at the table that is ladened with numerous plates, each platter filled with a variety of food. 

Seteth devours his food without abandon. So focused on satisfying his cravings that grow with every single day, he thinks about nothing else. 

Gazing at Seteth's frame, Linhardt leaves the mess hall as soon as he finishes his own lunch, an averaged sized portion of Daphnel stew. He heads back to his office.

The walk back is uneventful, Linhardt only occasionally stopped by simple greetings and minor pleasantries. The only surprise he gets is a tiny wooden box on his desk. "A gift?" Linhardt raises a brow as he walks to his desk. He opens the small box and finds tea bags along with a near blank white card that only has Byleth's signature. 

Linhardt brings one of the tea bags to his nose and gives it a small whiff. "Oh, Angelica tea," He excitedly says as he smells the earthen, peppery base scent that's followed by an after note of citrus. He immediately puts his tea pot to boil water. And he pours the boiling water into his already prepared mug. The aroma of his favorite tea wafts in the air. His stomach gurgles while he waits for his tea to finish. 

Feeling a bit peckish, Linhardt reaches into his drawer of snacks and begins to munch on some of his safely stored almond cookies. 

His hunger doesn't dissipate even as he snacks on the treats. Unaware of receiving his own curse back to him, all seven of the tea bags are chock full of the magic reverse engineered by Seteth, the card also forged by him so as to not possibly give away. Linhardt doesn't think about anything as he takes a careful sip of the still hot tea, the just barely drinkable liquid managing to go down his throat smoothly without coming close to scalding his tongue or throat. His stomach gurgles after drinking the beverage. Which he helps satisfy by eating another two cookies. 

"I guess a little cheat day won't hurt," Linhardt mumbles to himself. He takes another sip of his tea, his hunger increasing as he unknowingly falls prey to his own curse.

_____________

“He would've shown up at least 30 minutes ago,” Linhardt eats his breakfast for the day. Well, his first breakfast, the large vegetable omelet paired with crispy chunks of potatoes his starter meal for the day before his larger second serving of juicy meats accompanied by more potatoes a couple hours later. He eats at a hurried pace, as if the meal is going to suddenly disappear right in front of his eyes. 

Linhardt is rather fat. Already past his pudgy phase that only lasted for a few days, he weighs 316 pounds according to his scale earlier today. His clothes are less pristine than normal; the normally crisp fabric has a few wrinkles in it from his rush to go grab breakfast after his morning Angelica tea and full tray of snacks. Even his hair is less tidy, a few strands of hair loose along with a less neatly made bun to keep all his hair out of his face. His pants thankfully hide the amount of girth stockpiled on his rear, his lower half easily the largest aspect of him. Despite only just surpassing the three hundred pounds of man fat, his ass already takes up most of the space in his chair and even comes dangerously close to being fat and wide enough to get wedged inside what should usually be roomy space. Thankfully, his stomach is much smaller than the rest of his engorged frame.  He does still have a sizable little gut that constantly yearns for more and more food as the days go by however. The stretch fabric of his clothes hug and outline the soft round shape of his belly. It also shows off the flabby circumference of his waist; the once narrow frame bulges with flab. His chest stretches out his clothes but not too uncomfortably. The back of his outfit is much worse when it comes to being revealing though. Every stretchable fiber in the fabric reaches and wraps around his flabby, bulky backside to illustrate just how wide he’s gotten in such a short time. The fabric of his sleeves now drape against his love handles. The biggest issue his outfit gives him is his collar; the buttoned fabric slightly squeezes the bit of pudge he has on his neck and budding double chin.

Linhardt well aware of being affected by his own magic, he can't bring himself to care about the effects of the curse. He only worries about satisfying his intensifying cravings. Which he temporarily does after finishing his large plate. And curiosity gets the best of him. Heading back to the hallway meant for faculty, he doesn’t return to his office; instead, he walks into Seteth’s room.

His thoughts are confirmed upon the sight of Seteth. 

Seteth so large, his mobility has become an issue for the morbidly obese man quite some time ago. Yesterday’s meal and the accompanying midnight snacks are apparently the final amount of food that stops his corpulent body from lifting itself up. Seteth is now bedbound. The frame of the bed dangerously creaks underneath all his enormity, the wood somehow still standing. His enormous gut rises high into the air, the fat piled on top of itself giving it extra height along with his fattened chair crushing ass. Seteth’s comparatively small feet barely stick out from underneath the mound of blubber. His feet are swaddled in a layer of fat from his calves and ankles that meld together from all his flab. His thighs are blanketed under his gut, each swollen barrel sized thigh unable to move underneath his weight that pins him down. Though even if Seteth could move, walking is out of the question, his pathetic waddling yesterday the product of several tired, wheezes and a determination to fill his aching, famished gut. Seteth’s arms lay uselessly to the side of him. Each arm juts at an angle with the fat from his breasts in the way. His chest now presses against his flabby flour bag sized arms in the way. And at the very top of all of Seteth’s corpulence is his panting blubbery mess of a face, Seteth reduced to barely able to communicate with him now so fat and heavy that all he can think about is eating more to try and calm the beast for a stomach.

“Ough…please, so *wheeze* hungry…”

Despite not being able to see much of Seteth, Linhardt can at least hear Seteth’s desperate pleas for food and whines over being starving; something he doesn’t doubt, Linhardt all too aware of his own hunger pangs when he tries to put off eating. “Thankfully, I already have a spell planned for this,”

Seteth has to catch his breath before he can respond. But thankfully, his gut responds for him. His entire frame wobbles. Each roll of heaping amount of flab sloshes against each other. The motion is the last bit of pressure for the bed, the frame cracking and breaking underneath Seteth’s weight. “Thank you. Need food…” Seteth pays no mind to his own immobilized corpulence, only thinking about eating upon hearing Linhardt’s confession.

For Linhardt’s part, he doesn’t think much about Seteth’s hedonistic self either. He focuses all his attention into properly casting his spell and is rewarded with perfectly summoning a portal alongside two feeding tubes. “I’m sure you’ll need another one later anyways,” Linhardt places one tube in Seteth’s mouth who accepts the feeding mechanism and begins to guzzle away at the food that pours down his throat in torrents. 

Seteth thanks Linhardt in deep moans, unable to speak while glutting.

And Linhardt only walks away soon after, yawning and thinking about taking his second breakfast early before a nap, only caring about now satisfying his hunger like Seteth has instead of caring about how he is following in Seteth’s ponderous footsteps.

_____________

“I…” Linhardt takes deep breaths after his meal. Eating for an entire hour and a half—and just for breakfast, his meal sized snacks before breakfast adding another half hour—he leans back into his chair. Well, Seteth’s chair, the seating used by Linhardt now that Seteth no longer fits into it. Or anything else with him immobilized a week ago. Linhardt is now unable to control himself; small remnants of the sauces from his food remain on his sagging cheeks. He has one hand on his gut. He lazily pats at the mass of fat that is now large enough to fill out an entire armchair. He slowly wipes away the mess on his face with his other hand. Linhard is now more than twice his weight. He easily surpasses the six hundred pound benchmark to even be rapidly closing in on seven hundreds. His large, hefty gut rests comfortably on his massive thighs that are wide and bulky enough to struggle to fit in a doorway now. Each thigh that is, the two thick enough to struggle even with doorways twice their normal width when combined. His thighs also make walking an extremely difficult chore for Linhardt. He has to waddle, the slow, feeble attempts much more difficult now compared to a couple hundred pounds ago when he first needed to lift and sluggishly swing one massive thigh past another just to move around. Linhardt’s ass completely smothers the bench; the reinforced bench is completely hidden underneath all his immense flab besides for the very sides of it that his shapeless ass doesn’t reach. Much like his gut, his chest has little in the way of flab compared to his lower half. The two meaty breasts press against his too tight top, the sides of the shirt bulging from his chest. And his gut seeps past his shirt, the pale creamy skin exposed.

Linhardt sits in place for a few moments, more like ten minutes, before beginning the arduous task of standing up. The bench visibly rises with it no longer having to support his ass for the day. Or ever again.

Linhardt waddles out of the mess hall and slowly walks towards one of the outer edges of Garreg Mach. It takes him several minutes alongside multiple stops, but he does reach his destination, albeit extremely exhausted as he wheezes and his fat face bulges with the gulps of air he takes. He thankfully has the frigid air to aid him in gathering up his energy. Sensing that his time of mobility is coming to a close, he lets out a sigh of relief upon arriving at the auditorium.

He makes his way deeper into the abandoned auditorium. Well, formerly abandoned with Seteth now taking up residence inside with him having outgrown his room yesterday. 

At the very center of Seteth’s gluttonous frame that nearly crushed the walls to his bedroom is his face. His porcine jowls splay out on both sides of his face, each massive cheek fat enough to just barely sag down to his flabby, tire sized neck that squishes against his budding fifth chin. His enormous stomach spread out in front of him. The pile of lard is large enough to fill up an entire carriage. The sagging pair of breasts that rest on top of it are comparable to armchairs at their size, each tit near the size of a person with how easily Seteth has let himself go. His arms are completely useless, both arms forced to the side from the fat from his torso and from the very own fat in his arms. The limbs resemble cylinders of fat stacked on top of each other. His thighs are the exact same, only on a much grander, larger scale with each leg larger than a couch. Much like his stomach, Seteth’s back spreads out and smothers the ground behind him. His back is littered with backrolls and fat that juts out from both sides. His ass has the bare minimum of a shape to it, his ass large enough to take up the entire surface area of a bed and crush it.

And Seteth absolutely enjoys the grandeur of his enormity. He chugs away at the food that slams down into his mouth like a waterfall with the aid of two feeding tubes now.

All Linhardt can do is stare at the parts of Seteth that he can, unable to get a full view of such a pile of lard for a man. A glimmer in his eyes, his stomach churns at the hedonistic pleasure in front of him. Linhardt’s brain listens to his gut like it has ever since drinking the tea and falling to his curse just like Seteth. “Looks like I have some catching up to do,” Linhardt casts the very same spell he used for Seteth and promptly appeases his ravenous gut by cramming both tubes in his mouth. He takes a seat on his plush ass and allows himself to devolve into a mess of moans like his larger roommate. 

Neither of the men care about modesty or sensibility, the two entirely content to keep eating and growing fatter as they reach higher and higher weights.

#my writing #fat emblem #male weight gain #ssbhm #feeder emblem #fat fiction #maleweightgain

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 243. brb x oc

a/n: listen......i don't even know if this is common or legal,I just want drama and im so t i r e d so b ear with me pls(comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

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/225/226/227/228/229/230/231/232/233/234/235/236/237/238

/239/240/241/242

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

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-

It wasn’t news that he was good at his job, he was good, he was good enough to be promoted to Lieutenant-Commander. As he walks past a few other officers towards Cyclone’s office, he wondered what exactly they could talk about that was so…hurried.

He saw the email on Sunday afternoon, minutes before the girls left with Leonardo and he and Beatrice went to Marcus for that…photoshoot…thing. It was weird, but also really fun? It took him some time to get used to the idea, but he’s glad that he did.

He knocks on the vice-admiral’s door, he hears the quiet ‘Come in’ and then finally enters. He stops by the door when he sees a brand new picture on Cyclone’s desk, his grandson, in all his red peach faced glory, squinting at the camera and giving the onlookers a confused frown.

Well, that’s interesting.

Rooster blinked in surprise, hardly believing his eyes as he took in the unexpected sight of his uncle, Maverick, sitting in Vice-Admiral Cyclone's office. He couldn't help but grin at the sight of his younger, albeit scruffy and casually dressed, family member.

"Mav?" Rooster, his voice filled with disbelief and genuine happiness. "What are you doing here?"

Maverick leaned back in the chair, offering Rooster a cocky smile. "Can you believe I was invited?” he smirks, “By Beau nonetheless.” Cyclone just sighed heavily from his chair, flipping some pages in a folder, “I felt honored,honestly.”

"Invited?" he repeated, his mind trying to make sense of the situation. He knew that Maverick and Vice-Admiral Cyclone had a history, but he hadn't expected his uncle to be invited to a meeting like this.

Especially by Cyclone who did not look that excited.

Maverick chuckled, his casual demeanor contrasting sharply with the formal setting of Cyclone's office. "Yeah, Beau called me up and said he needed my input on something," he explained, his voice laced with amusement. "Said it was a 'family matter.'"

Cyclone finally set the folder aside and leaned forward, his expression serious. "Gentlemen, I appreciate you both coming," he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority and completely ignoring how casual the conversation was. "Yes, even you Maverick.” 

“It must be something insane for you to allow me in here.” Maverick smiles, “I think being a grandpa is doing good for you. I mean,it did for me. Rooster’s kids are great.”

Cyclone purposefully ignored that information, “Bradley your promotion ceremony is coming,” he says, pulling his glasses off his face, “A few weeks, if I’m not wrong.”

Rooster nodded, acknowledging the upcoming event. "Yes, sir," he replied, hands behind his back, “Just…a few days after my birthday,actually.” and he let out an awkward laugh…one that his uncle did reciprocate, but his superior…well…

If he squinted he could see his lips twitching.

Cyclone continued, his gaze shifting between Rooster and Maverick. "As you both know, promotions in the Navy are based on merit, performance, and potential," he said, his tone serious. "And while Rooster's record is exceptional and he's more than deserving of his promotion, there's another factor at play here."

Rooster exchanged a puzzled glance with Maverick. "What do you mean, sir?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Cyclone leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him. "I've received some...interesting information from the higher-ups," he began, choosing his words carefully. "It seems they aren’t that fond that you two-” he points at them, “Are together in the same base.”

Rooster's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Cyclone's revelation. He hadn't expected the conversation to take such a turn. He exchanged a quick, worried glance with Maverick before turning his attention back to the vice-admiral.

"Sir, with all due respect, our relationship hasn't affected our performance or professionalism in any way," Rooster stated firmly, his voice steady.

Maverick nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "We've always maintained the highest standards, both as Navy officers and as individuals," he added.

Cyclone sighed, his gaze fixed on Rooster. "I don't doubt your professionalism, Bradley," he said, his tone sympathetic. "But you know how the higher-ups can be. They have concerns about the appearance of impropriety, especially with both of you being…family."

Rooster couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration at the situation. He had worked hard to achieve his current rank, and the idea that his relationship with Maverick could jeopardize his career was disheartening. "Sir, I understand their concerns, but we've kept our personal and professional lives separate," he argued. "I don't see how our relationship should be an issue."

“Listen,Beau,”Maverick stands up, “He’s my nephew. But there’s no nepotism in place here,I don’t have any saying on what happens to him.”

Cyclone nodded in acknowledgment of Maverick's statement. "You're right, Maverick," he said, his expression thoughtful. "But I wanted both of you to be aware of the situation and the potential challenges it might present. The higher-ups are watching closely."

Seldom were the times when he saw Maverick angry, actually angry. But when his eyes narrowed and he leaned down to Cyclone’s level, he could see how he was seething, “Watching me closely,huh?”

“Maverick-”

“They are threatening my nephew because of me?” he asks quietly, “Is that the truth,Beau?”

Cyclone sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he met Maverick's intense gaze. "Maverick, it's not a direct threat," he explained, choosing his words carefully. "But it's a concern they've raised, and it could potentially impact Bradley's career."

“It feels like one.” and the two men stared at each other for a few seconds, before Cyclone broke the silence.

And while his words were heavy, they had truth in them, “...Maverick, you knew Admiral Kazansky’s protection would only last so long.” he says quietly, “You knew they’d still be on your ass even after he passed.”

Rooster watched the exchange between Maverick and Cyclone, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He felt like..he didn’t know what to feel. He was so conflicted. "Mav, it's okay," Rooster interjected, stepping closer to both of them. "We'll figure this out. Okay?” he saw how his uncle’s knuckles were white when he pressed them on the desk’s surface, keeping him upright.

“I will not allow them to do it.” he whispers, “They will not hurt him because of me,Beau.”

Cyclone’s jaw moved before he spoke again. "Maverick, I appreciate your concern for Rooster," he said, "But we need to tread carefully. We don't want to give them any more reason to scrutinize Bradley's career."

“There shouldn’t be any!” Maverick almost shouts, making both his nephew and the vice-admiral stare at him wide eyed, “What is this? Punishment? For some fucking reason? Why? No,” he points at Cyclone, “No, they won’t do this, not to him, not anymore.”

Cyclone sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm going to have a meeting with the higher-ups," he said, his tone resigned. "I'll try to convince them that Bradley's promotion should proceed as planned. But we'll need to be prepared for any outcome."

“There will be only one outcome.”

“We don’t know that.”

“...no, we do.” Maverick muttered, stepping back to look at Rooster. And Rooster felt his heart hurting because that was the same look he gave back when they started talking again. After Phoenix and Bob got hurt, after he questioned him about his papers.

Why did you stand in my way?!

“Is it over?” Maverick asked, “Can we get out of here? We are both busy.” the atmosphere was so tense and thick it was almost suffocating. Rooster could only stare at his uncle in silence, hands behind his back as he waited.

Cyclone nodded, his expression grave. "Yes, you're both dismissed for now," he replied, his voice heavy with the weight of the situation. "I'll keep you updated on any developments, Rooster."

Rooster gave a brisk salute, his thoughts racing as he followed Maverick out of the vice-admiral's office. The tension in the room seemed to linger even after they had left, leaving Rooster feeling a sense of unease, it clung to his uniform like oil.

As they walked down the corridor, Maverick's earlier anger had transformed into a steely resolve. He glanced at Rooster and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Mav?" he calls softly, “Mav, you okay?”

“Me?” his uncle scoffs, “I should be the one asking you that? Are you okay?”

Why did you stand in my way?

Both men stood in front of each other, the taller pilot opening his mouth, then closing. Then opening and repeating the whole ordeal again…he felt…guilty, but he shouldn’t. Right? He shouldn’t feel guilty but he also felt angry and disappointed and just…he couldn’t pinpoint one single emotion.

He sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "I...I don't know, Mav," he admitted, his voice heavy with uncertainty. "I'm…really surprised of how things…turned out." and he laughs quietly, more out of discomfort than humor, “...but,I mean it, are you okay?”

Maverick's gaze softened as he looked at his nephew, his concern evident in his eyes. "I'm more worried about you right now," he replied honestly. "You've worked so hard for your promotion, and I don't want to see your career suffer because of me."

Again.

Rooster gave a weary smile, his brain rattling with past conversations he wished wouldn’t come back now, “I know.” he whispers, “I know,Mav…we-we will figure it out, somewhat.” he could feel the claw going up his spine, the anxiety of somehow his promotion being revoked was…scary.

He worked so hard for this, so hard.

And he couldn’t blame Mav, as much as somehow past Rooster wanted to, he couldn’t. This wasn’t him playing with his papers, the fact they were family - not exactly by blood - shouldn’t be such an issue, “...they really get on your ass,huh,Mav?”

Maverick chuckled dryly, crossing his arms over his chest, “Always did.” he frowns, “Always,did,Brad.”

–

“I’m home.”

“Kitchen!”

His smile was immediate, no matter how shitty his day could be, no matter if he was in the worst situation…that voice made his entire body relax, “Kitchen? What are you makin’?” he calls, leaning down to pet each of the dogs as they rush over to greet him, “Is Nikki with you?”

“Dada!”

“You bet she is.”

Rooster chuckled, running his hand through his hair as he walks to the kitchen, inhaling quietly, trying to ease his mind because he knew Beatrice was going to ask about this meeting. He knew it’d happen and he had to prepare his answers.

Rooster stepped into the kitchen, his fatigued shoulders gradually relaxing as he inhaled the savory aroma wafting through the air. Beatrice stood by the stove, a welcoming smile illuminating her face as she looked down at Nicole who was happily seated on her high chair at a safe distance from her mother.

"Look who's here, Nikki," Beatrice announced, playfully gasping, “Is it dada?”.

Nikki eagerly reached out for her father, her tiny arms stretching towards him. Rooster happily swept her up into his embrace, showering her chubby cheeks with affectionate kisses that elicited even more laughter from the little one.

"Hey there, my little birdie," Rooster whispered, his nose nuzzling Nikki's soft cheek. “Oh,” he swipes her face, “You got some sauce on your cheek, were you helping mama with dinner? Yeah?”

Beatrice leaned in once she lowered the temperature, her lips meeting Rooster's in a tender kiss. "Welcome home, babe," she greeted him warmly.

Rooster returned the kiss, smiling against her mouth, “Thanks babe, missed you.”

Beatrice gently caressed his cheek, her eyes filled with adoration. "We missed you too, Roos," she replied softly, looking back at the stove. "Dinner is almost ready. I made your favorite."

Rooster's eyes lit up with anticipation. "Oh boy, the options are endless. I wouldn’t know what it’d be…what is it?" he asked,craning his neck to check the boiling pot with his brows arched, “Tomato sauce…hmmm…could be anything. Gimme a hint.”

“It’s pasta,Roos.” she giggles, “More precisely spaghetti all'amatriciana.” she smiles more, “I thought about it, it’s been so long since we had it and I know how much you loved it back then.”

“Still do.” he says, sitting on the kitchen chair and placing Nicole on his lap, kissing her forehead, “Thanks babe, that sounds great.”

“Don’t mention it! How was work?”

Rooster settled into the chair, balancing Nicole on his lap as he recounted the events of his day. "It was a long day," he admitted, his voice tinged with exhaustion,holding his head with his free hand, “Long day.”

Beatrice looked at him from the stove and frowned at how his expression shifted to a somber, almost upset look, “...you wanna talk about it?” she asks softly, giving him a small smile when he met her eyes, “If you feel comfortable enough to?”

Rooster met Beatrice's concerned gaze, and for a moment, he hesitated. His day had indeed been challenging, and he had a lot on his mind. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he considered her offer. "...maybe after dinner?”

Her gaze softened, “Okay.” she says, “No worries.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

[kcloveswrestling]

Tony Khan x reader

AN: Typically I wouldn’t write for TK…but here’s one anyways…

@unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin i was left unattended… may have a Part 2 in the drafts…

——————————————————————————

In the bustling offices of All Elite Wrestling (AEW) headquarters, Tony Khan, the founder and president of the company, was hard at work. He had a reputation for being a passionate and dedicated leader, always striving to make AEW the best wrestling promotion in the world. Today was no different, as he meticulously went through the details of upcoming events, reviewing matches, and discussing potential storylines with the creative team.

As he sat at his desk, a knock on the door interrupted his concentration. Startled, Tony looked up to see a familiar face entering his office. It was one of AEW's top female wrestlers, [Your Name], a rising star in the wrestling world.

"Hey, Tony," [Your Name] greeted him with a warm smile.

Tony Khan returned the smile and motioned for her to take a seat. "What can I do for you, [Your Name]?"

She hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to say thank you for the opportunity you've given me in AEW. It's been an incredible journey, and I appreciate your support."

Tony Khan leaned back in his chair, his eyes filled with pride. "You've worked hard and earned every opportunity, [Your Name]. You're a vital part of our roster, and I believe in your potential."

As they continued to chat, [Your Name] couldn't help but admire Tony's passion for the wrestling business and his dedication to the AEW brand. She felt a connection to him that went beyond just a professional one.

Over time, [Your Name] and Tony Khan began to spend more time together, discussing not only wrestling but their personal lives as well. They shared stories, dreams, and their love for the industry. Tony was not just her boss; he was becoming a trusted friend.

As their friendship deepened, it wasn't long before their feelings for each other evolved into something more. They shared a secret romance, meeting in hidden corners of AEW events, stolen moments that they cherished.

Their love story was one filled with passion, ambition, and the shared love for professional wrestling. It was a story that thrived in the midst of chaos and drama, just like the wrestling matches they presented to the world.

In the world of AEW, where heroes and villains clashed in the ring, [Your Name] and Tony Khan found their own love story, proving that sometimes, the most unexpected connections can be the most genuine and enduring.

#all elite wrestling #aew #tony khan is my forever favorite person #forever in love with tony khan #tk tony khan #tony khan x reader #kc writes wrestling fics

[97-liners]

prince!coups x female!political aide!reader

modern royalty au | enemies to lovers | fluff, romance, comedy

words: 3k+

this isn't a full fic, this is mainly just an expansion on the text post i made a few nights ago (in the block quote below). as in, this is literally an abandoned wip that i’m just tossing onto tumblr to languish

a modern royalty au where seungcheol is the handsome and dutiful second prince, beloved by all and a certified Good Boy. and you’re an intern on his father’s ministry of interior affairs, a recent doctor of political science graduate whose thesis made waves in academic circles, and you’re everything he’s not— you’re loud, opinionated, brash, acidic. you have bold, radical ideas, and you don’t back down from your convictions. seungcheol meets you while he sits in on a cabinet meeting with his father one day and, though he’ll never admit it, becomes enamored by you.

when you’re assigned as one of his aides on his two week long tour of the nation, you find yourself butting heads with him. you had expected him to just be a vapid pretty boy with no real opinions of his own, but the two of you argue— about politics, about etiquette, about what dessert he orders, everything. and you’re convinced you hate him, this modern prince born with a silver spoon in his mouth, this rich boy who’s never had to stand up for anything in his life, but at the same time… you find yourself enjoying your arguments with him.

and seungcheol, he knows he’s in the public eye as one of the two princes. despite the custom of the title of crown prince being granted to the eldest, his parents haven’t named a successor between him and his brother yet, so he knows he’s bound by duty to act as if he could be king one day, and that responsibility weighs on him heavily, but you… you’re a spitfire, and you’re entrancing, and you make him feel alive. he knows you’re bad news. he knows he shouldn’t let himself be entangled with you. but these days, he finds that he increasingly doesn’t care. for the first time in his life, he wants. he wants, and wants, and wants.

“You should check your email,” Mingyu says when you get to your shared office on Monday morning. “A really interesting one just went out this morning.”

You groan and drop your bag to the ground as you collapse into your office chair. “Someone’s dog pooped on the train to work this morning, can’t you just summarize the email for me? Let me guess, they figured out who broke the coffee machine in the downstairs breakroom?”

“Nope,” Mingyu grins, popping the ‘p’, “you’re going with Prince Seungcheol on his tour of the nation, as an assistant speechwriter.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Do you think I was born yesterday? You need to come up with better lies.”

“It’s real,” Mingyu protests, pointing to his computer screen. “Check your email!”

“Okay, first of all, why would they send that email to you?”

“They sent it to the entire office–”

“Why would they send that email to the entire office, then?” Slouching in your chair, you press the power button on your laptop and wait for it to boot up. 

“Because it’s an honor, or whatever,” Mingyu shrugs. 

“What does he need an assistant speechwriter for, anyway? He doesn’t even have a job besides waving from a balcony a few times a year.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “They made him a ‘special envoy’ for the Ministry of Commerce, whatever that means. So now he needs a speechwriter and aides, because he’s meeting people, I guess. Check your email,” he motions toward your backpack, “all the details are there.”

You huff half heartedly and pull out your phone to check your email, eyes widening when you see a brand message at the top of your inbox.

Re: The Prince’s upcoming national tour. Sent by Seungcheol’s chief of staff. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, digging your knuckles into the bridge of your nose to fend off an oncoming headache. “Why me?” You squint at the message text. “The flight is leaving this afternoon? God, I need to pack and hand off my projects, then. This means Jeonghan is my boss doesn’t it?” 

Mingyu steeples his fingers. “I have a theory,” he says. “I think Prince Seungcheol requested you specifically.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” you slouch even further in your chair. 

“Because he has a crush on you,” he continues, ignoring you.

You roll your eyes. “I thought we had dropped that dumb pet theory of yours. And anyways, that can’t be possible. Seungcheol and I hate each other.”

“First name basis, huh,” Mingyu grins triumphantly, as if he’s somehow proved a point. 

“I’m not gonna call him by his title when he’s not here. I’m not a bootlicker.”

“Fine, you’re an anti-royalist leftist radical who works for the Crown,” Mingyu replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Do you not remember me and Seungcheol arguing for a full hour on media exemptions for antitrust laws? The world has changed since 1934, and our laws should have changed accordingly, and Seungcheol is a spoiled rich boy who has never had to stand up for anything in his life.”

“He’s nice,” Mingyu protests. “And anyways, I feel like there was a lot of unresolved sexual tension in the room while the two of you were yelling at each other. And let’s be real, the two of you were pretty much arguing the same point, you just think it’s fun to debate him.”

“Maybe so.” You scowl. “But the point still stands. We hate each other, and I bet, if anything, he requested me on his staff just so he could torment me with Jeonghan.”

“Yeah, good luck,” Mingyu sighs. “At least Jeonghan will be coming on the trip with you to subdue any murderous urges you have toward the prince.”

.

.

.

“What do you mean you’re not coming on the trip,” you hiss at Jeonghan. “Who’s going to subdue my murderous urges toward the prince, then?”

You cast a sidelong glance at the security agent sitting in the passenger seat of the car, but he seems unfazed.

“Exactly what I said, I’m not coming on the trip. That’s why I’m getting an assistant this month,” he says, unmoved. “I requested you specifically, mind you, so you should be thanking me for the raise.”

“So I’m… I’m moving up from being an aide in the office of the Minister of the Interior to basically being the sole speechwriter for Seungcheol,” you groan, massaging your temples. 

“You’re welcome for the raise,” Jeonghan sniffs. “And, I have drafts of all his speeches. You’ll just need to keep an eye on public sentiment and what’s happening in the media and polish them up accordingly.”

“Can I quit?”

“We’re at the airport already,” Jeonghan grins. “Too late to quit. Have fun with Seungcheol.”

In that moment, you think you could smack that smug expression off his face, if only he weren’t your new temporary boss. 

.

.

.

You don’t know why Jeonghan thought you’d be able to do this. You’re one day into the trip, and you and Seungcheol have somehow managed to start arguing about pancakes. 

“Apricot jam, are you insane?”

You’re at breakfast with the prince in his hotel suite. It’s the kind of hotel suite that has crystal chandeliers and gilded furniture, the kind that isn’t even available to book unless you’re a head of state. Seungcheol is fully dressed in a suit, and you’re still in your bathrobe after having stayed up all night in your room just below, working frantically on a report for your actual boss while simultaneously putting together final details on a briefing for your temporary boss. 

Seungcheol frowns and continues spreading his apricot jam on his pancakes. “Are you here to tell me about the diplomatic attache, or are you here to criticize my choice of toppings?”

“I can’t–” you pinch the bridge of your nose, dropping the thick binder down on the breakfast table. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“What, am I supposed to just magically know every single diplomat in the country or–”

“I have a doctorate in public policy, I have half of Minister Lee’s cabinet up my ass trying to pass a referendum next week, and I’m stuck here being your glorified servant,” you snap, finally losing your patience. You stand, which would probably be a lot more impactful if you weren’t wearing sweats and a hotel bathrobe. “I’m going downstairs to my room. My phone has been blowing up with emails all afternoon. Call me if you need any help getting through some names and faces,” you point at the binder. 

Seungcheol blinks at you. 

“I’m sorry,” you huff immediately, not sorry at all. “I’m just stressed and tired.”

“How long have you been up,” he frowns.

“Um.” You rack your brain. “I woke up yesterday at 6.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrow. “You mean, you haven’t slept?”

“Minister Lee is expecting an updated copy of my report by noon,” you sigh, “that’s when he’s meeting with Senator Hwang to discuss the referendum.”

“You can leave if you want,” he says quietly. “I’ll pay for your flight and say that it’s all because of me. It wouldn’t hurt your career.”

“What are you talking about,” you snap, “are you going to write your speeches and prepare for your meetings by yourself, or let the person who’s actually qualified for the job do it for you?” 

You know you’re being mean, but you’re tired and stressed and frustrated. Seungcheol wears a strange expression on his face, somewhere between bewilderment and hurt, and you know you’re being unreasonable, but in the moment, anger feels better than being vulnerable. 

“You have no idea,” you seethe, “how hard I’ve worked to get my job, how hard it is for me to get them to respect me, and you, you requested me on this trip, didn’t you?”

“I–” he looks surprised, “I did.”

You ball your hands into fists in your sleeves. “Of course, the beloved Second Prince wants a new speechwriter, so now I have to travel with you and act as your assistant, in the middle congress’s summer session.” You tilt your head and smile humorlessly. “Thanks for reminding me that a fucking doctorate means nothing in the face of familial wealth and power.”

And then, before you can really see the look on Seungcheol’s face, before you can really let the weight of your little outburst settle in, your phone rings in your pocket. You take it out and look down to see an incoming call from Minister Lee. Shooting one last glare at Seungcheol, you tell him “I have to take this call,” and leave. 

.

.

.

( ... )

.

.

.

“This is my home town, you know,” you say quietly, shoving your hands deep in the pockets of your jacket as you lead Seungcheol through a narrow alley. He’s incognito today, with a casual bomber jacket zipped all the way up and a beanie pulled low over his head. You think you’d be able to recognize him anywhere, but this version of Seungcheol walks with a slouch, his face slack and unposed, his enunciation loose. He looks like he could be one of your old buddies from university, not Prince Seungcheol.

He pauses, then says, “I thought you were from the capital.”

“No,” you laugh bitterly, “a girl like me had to fight to get into the National University. I’m from here, originally, and not the nice part of town where our hotel is. This,” you round a corner and spot the familiar half-dilapidated corner pub, “is where I’m from.”

“Hm?”

“C’mon, your highness,” you grin. “This is the last dive bar left in town.” 

He raises his eyebrows at you, a question on his tongue that he doesn’t vocalize. Instead, he lets you push the door open with your foot and follows you inside. It’s not until the two of you are settled in a corner with beers of questionable quality, nestled away from the pool tables and cigarette smoke, that he asks. “What do you mean, one of the last dive bars in town?”

You sigh and take a sip of your beer. “The rest got bought out by corporations. Now the former local pubs are owned by monolithic giants and the publicans are just tenants. They clean up the places and raise the prices. My old neighborhood is so gentrified, my dad can’t afford to drink at any of the neighborhood bars anymore. My mom can’t afford to shop at the fancy new grocery stores. They can’t afford to move out. Remember that time I argued with you about zoning restrictions a few months ago?” 

Seungcheol’s face is mostly hidden in the shadows in this dimly lit bar, but you can still see the way his large eyes sparkle. You look down at your hands, avoiding eye contact for some reason. He doesn’t respond, but you can tell from the way he’s sitting, from the way he angles himself toward you, that he’s listening. 

“I came into my political awareness when I was eleven,” you say quietly. “When they evicted my grandmother from the apartment she had lived in for the last forty years. They tore down that old apartment block and replaced it with million dollar condos, and my grandmother had to move to the outskirts of town, out of the neighborhood that she had been born in, where her parents lived and died their whole lives.”

“I entered politics for the survival of my family, my community. Sometimes I lose sight of that,” you sigh, “it’s easy to get distracted in this line of work.”

“I’m sorry for arguing so much with you,” Seungcheol says suddenly. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me sometimes. And I’m sorry for requesting you on this trip. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but clearly, I’m not that good at thinking things through.”

You frown. “What are you sorry about? Don’t apologize. You didn’t know. And, I’m smart,” you grin, “I can work two jobs at once.”

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to.”

The grin falls off your face. The pit of your stomach burns. “I’m sorry for being so cruel to you, Seungcheol. That day in the hotel. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Nah,” he shrugs, “I kind of did.”

You laugh and lean your cheek against your palm, propping yourself up by the elbow. “Well, at any rate, don’t apologize for requesting me on this trip either. I don’t think I would have had the chance to travel like this otherwise,” you smile at him, as soft and sincere as you can. “We’re both having fun, right?”

“Right,” Seungcheol nods, clinking his beer glass against yours. “This is fun.”

.

.

.

You have to laugh. 

A ball. Like in the movies, like in a fairytale, you’re at a real ball, dressed in an expensive dress that Seungcheol had ordered for you, surrounded by rich people and diplomats, bathed in candlelight and classical music. And you’re working.

You have a notepad in your hand, squinting as you scribble notes in the dim light of your phone. Of course the news had to break just hours ago that leaked documents had implicated the Minister of Agriculture in a corruption scheme, and of course Seungcheol is supposed to give a speech on sustainable farming efforts tomorrow morning. 

Groaning quietly, you tilt your neck to the side in an attempt to work out the tension settling in your muscles. Not even a real politician, you can hear yourself complaining to Mingyu, this is pointless, he doesn’t have to have a single opinion in his life. But it’s harder for you to feel that same disdain you used to feel for him. You remember that earnest look in his eyes when you told him about your neighborhood. You know he’s eager to learn, and you know he’s smart, and you know that deep down, he’s dutiful to his family, and to his people.

You sigh and puff a strand of hair from your face. Since when did you get so soft?

Shifting to lean against the wall, you flip back to the previous page in your notepad at the hastily scribbled outline of a revised introduction section. Your brain itches to write out a scathing indictment of the culture of corruption among senior government officials. Should we really be entrusting the approval of anti-corruption laws to the very legislators who are the most likely to be affected by them? You bite your lip and read over the moderate, wishy-washy sentences you’ve written.

“Are you working?” It’s Seungcheol, coming to join you at the dark corner. He’s dressed in full regalia tonight. You resist the urge to roll your eyes when you spot the ceremonial sword hanging at his side. “Why aren’t you enjoying the party?”

“Don’t you have socializing to do, your highness?”

Seungcheol frowns at the title. “Don’t call me that,” he says quietly.

“Fine, Seungcheol,” you sigh, “I’m working. Revising your speech for tomorrow morning. I’ll have the notes to you by the end of the night.”

“Why don’t you just leave and go work at the hotel room?”

“I’m your only staff here,” you sigh helplessly, pinching at the bridge of your nose, ignoring the feeling of makeup shifting under your fingertips. “I can’t leave this ballroom.”

For a moment, he just stands there, frowning at you. 

“You’re still here,” you observe drily. “Are you about to ask me to dance or something?”

He raises his eyebrows, frown deepening. “Do you want me to?”

“God, no,” you snort. “Secretary Lee is going to be announced as the interim Minister of Agriculture tomorrow, and I need to send my notes over to my counterpart. After all, I was writing important reports for the Department of Agriculture before I got dragged here to be your speechwriter.”

“Come on,” Seungcheol takes your hand in his own gloved hand, tugging you away from the wall.

You stare at him, eyes wide as you let him lead you across the room, your notepad in hand, your dress fluttering around your ankles. If it weren’t for the frantically scribbled notes clutched in your hand and your phone blowing up with urgent emails, you might have believed for a split second that you were in a fairytale. You, a scrappy girl who clawed her way out of the gutters, being led by hand across the ballroom by the dashing second prince. “What are you doing?” 

“You should sit at the tables,” he turns back to tell you, “not standing against the walls like you’re trying to hide.”

“The tables are for guests,” you try to protest, but Seungcheol levels a steely glare at you.

“You are a guest. You’re my guest. And I’m asking you to sit.”

You open and close your mouth wordlessly, undoubtedly looking rather stupid, as he pulls a chair out for you. Obediently, you sit down. Seungcheol takes a seat across from you.

“Why are you still here?” You wonder if he’s tired of the bewildered expression on your face yet. “Go socialize with some barons or whatever.”

“I’m keeping you company,” he replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “After all, you’re writing a speech for me. It’s the least I could do.”

You chew on your lower lip, feeling your heart swell. Why does he make you feel like you could float? 

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at you. “Didn’t you say you had work to do?”

Exhaling slowly through your nose, you purse your lips and look down at the open notepad set on the satin tablecloth in front of you. “Thank you, Seungcheol,” you tell him quietly. 

“There’s no need to thank me.”

You pick up your pen again, and in a voice so quiet, you half-hope he doesn’t hear you, you ask, “why are you so good to me?”

If he does hear you, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he flags down a waiter and asks for a glass of water for you. 

#97.writings #97.yn #tagging this as a drabble because i don't feel good tagging this as a full fic :/

[jenneferofjengaberg]

A little update on my recent crochet projects:

I made this book/tablet sleeve for my sister's birthday, from this pattern by Green Fox Farms Designs. It was a little tricky in the beginning but a nice pattern overall.

I'm trying to learn Mosaic Crochet now. I've eyed it for years because you can make some incredible designs, but I was a little intimidated by it. I shouldn't have been, it was actually much easier than I thought. I started with something that wouldn't matter and made a dishcloth from this pattern/tutorial by Naztazia Crochet.

I used Lily Sugar n' Cream cotton, which I'm not sure was the absolute best yarn to use, I think it might not be fluffy enough to really show off the design the best. But I wanted to make an actually usable dishcloth, and for that you have to use cotton, and I had this in my stash.

Next, I made this little swatch, following a tutorial video by Tinna Thórudóttir. I extended it a bit and made it into a "mug rug". Made with some leftover Big Twist Acrylic (Joann's in-house brand yarn).

I also finished the shawl I was working on for my mom for Mother's Day (see the beginning in this post), but no pictures yet because I still have to block it.

Upcoming Projects:

Boho Triangle Shawl by Expression Fiber Arts I actually have this mostly completed, just about 7 rows to go. I had some mystery DK weight black speckled yarn in my stash so I just decided to make this shawl. The original pattern calls for fingering weight yarn held double, so I just used one strand of my yarn and a 8 mm hook and it seemed to work out ok.

I want to make this Wind River Blanket (lapghan size) to drape over the chair in my office. I have all the materials (I'm using some Mary Maxim Super Value Black Yarn and a cake of Lion Brand Mandala Ombré in the "Serene" colorway), I just need to start it.

I'm making this checkered bag for myself, in some Premier Anti-Pilling Everyday Worsted Yarn. I chose Silver and Peacock as my colors.

I'm making this adorable Bow Purse for my wife's niece in Lavender Glimmer Yarn from Mary Maxim which she picked out herself. Ngl, it's so cute I kind of want to make one for myself too, but I'm not sure someone in their 30's can pull-off a sparkly bow shaped purse, lol.

#crochet #crochet diaries

[sleepless-stories]

Who's Your Daddy~~

Summary: You X Harry Styles X Pedro Pascal You are an actor, and much more. Pedro is your hotty daddy costar in a new up and coming movie. And Harry Styles is your past Ex

Warnings: Mischaracterization of everyone, vague smut, blood play (Mild), incest implied?, varying descriptions of Harry Styles eye color

DISCLAIMER: I fucking hate this and it's all a joke.... please help it's the first thing I've written in almost a year

You are a Hollywood actor, model, millionaire, and trapeze artist. Recently you broke up with your long but short time boyfriend, Harry Styles. Together you were a power couple for two to three weeks. Sadly you broke up over beliefs on animal sentience. It was harrowing, so, so sad. 

Anyway! This week you finally got a new gig, in an upcoming blockbuster, box office shattering, but box office bombing movie! And you’ve managed to get the lead role! Today’s the day you’re going into the studio for script reading. 

You get up bright and early, at 3am. A red glow filling your apartment with warmth and love, glancing over you see your small but life sized night light of Pedro Pascal’s beautiful, daddy material, face. Slowly but sensually you get up from your bed, violently tossing your covers to the floor. Turning on your overhead light, brightness fills your room. Your room isn’t large, but it isn’t small either. Your bed sits up against a corner, bright colored sheets that fall somewhere on the color spectrum cover your bed. Your walls, a lovely, pale yet bright color, covered in posters of your absolute Idol. Your idol over course, Pedro Pascal. Some ripped remains of old posters are also still tacked up against your walls… posters of your previous love, though he shouldn’t be named after what he did to you. You open your closet up grabbing the perfect outfit for the day, a heavy, light but dark colored cropped sweater, booty shorts with neon glittery letters saying “baby” on the ass, and thigh high but knee length boots. Putting it on you feel ready to slay the day away. You do your hair and your minimal face routine before eating a small but large and filling meal, first of many meals of the day. You sit down on your comfy but rather hard couch, pulling out your ambiguously branded phone. Unlocking it you quickly open your favorite but least liked app, Tinder™, ready to swipe your minutes away mostly to the left because nobody meets your high but low maintenance standards. 

Minutes then hours pass by, in a breeze that’s going a mild 5 mph or 8 kmh. Soon, but after a while it finally turned 12pm. Putting your phone on its unplugged charger, you carefully grab your coat and start preparing for your script reading at 11am. Leaving now you’d probably be early by about forty two minutes. 

You head out the door of your one story, single person, not rented, high rise apartment complex. Getting into your luxury but not exactly economy class Lotus Evija. Driving a moderate speed equal to the speed limit, but much under. You arrive at the perfect time of 10:09 am. Many people were arriving, though almost nobody was at the studio yet. 

Getting out of your car you head into the studio building, finding your way to the conference room the table reading would be performed in. The moment you open up the glass, clearly see through the door, that is too clear to be able to fully see through, you notice him. Pedro Pascal sits in, but not on, one of the chairs at the long conference table… and he is looking as, good… no! great! Perfect! As ever. His looks are so effortless but highly maintained as ever. Delicately you trip into the room falling onto your face immediately. A hand grabs your shoulder, gently helping pull you up from the floor, and there… standing before you… Is someone you’ve never seen before, they were… ok looking? In their stupid floral, plaid, striped, polka dotted, rainbow colored, outfit. They were certainly no Pedro Pascal. 

You stand gently but very obviously pushing the person away, “um thanks, but keep your…” you glance over them again before frowning, “hands off of me… I’m trying to stay looking good.”

“Well… It’s fine, you’re looking rather beautiful/handsome.”

“Awe thank you, you’re looking like a solid three.” 

“Wow, thank you for that, I was feeling like a two this morning but with your compliment I’m feeling more like a four.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself now.” You smile sweetly patting the other’s head before pulling out a chair and sitting down. You just so happened to pick the chair right next to Pedro’s out of all 10 of the open chairs. 

Pedro turns to you smiling perfectly, “Good afternoon, you must be y/n.”

“I am! How-how did you know my name?”

“Oh, well you’re wearing a name tag.”

“OH.” You glance down at your shirt remembering the name tag you had been given before walking into the room before. “Yes… It’s amazing to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, I’ll be acting as your love interest in the movie.”

“My l-love interest?” You quickly grab for the script that sits before you, flipping through the pages of it memorizing every line already thanks to your photographic memory. “There’s some… pretty um in-intimate scenes in this script,” you stutter blushing brightly. 

“There do seem to be.” Pedro nodded, opening up the script, “Maybe we’ll have to meet after this to have extra practice with the scripts.” 

“Take me away daddy…” You mumble before realizing what you just said. “Shit! I mean sure! Want…Want to maybe d-do it at your place?” You ask blushing rather brightly at the proposition. 

Pedro nods, attractively, “Of course. I’ll give you my address. We may take a while to do it, so make sure to bring a bag.”

“I’ll remember. Want to maybe, um, possibly meet up at a restaurant downtown first? We could get dinner and talk before heading to your place to start going over the script and practicing.”

“We’ll go to my favorite restaurant, Hoobee’s House.” Pedro suggested, attractively. 

“Oooo that’s so exotic! I’ve never heard of that place.” You agree immediately, if it was his favorite place you just had to go. 

“Yeah it’s like if Applebee’s, Hooters, and Waffle House had a threesome.” “Oooo, we should definitely go.”

Pedro nodded and handed you his unlocked phone to have your number put in. Naturally you give him your number, 605–477–3018. 

After giving him your number most of the other few, about 30 people walk into the room taking their seats. The script reading begins, you naturally give the best performance anyone had ever heard in their lives, fucking amateurs. 

-Timeskip- 

The script reading had gone well, it took a few hours but it was all worth it being able to sit so close to Daddy Pascal for hours. You finally got home by the time it was 5 Post Meridiem, quickly you pack a bag of your sexiest outfits and head out to the restaurant. Tossing your bag into the back seat of your Toyota Corolla, you drive over to downtown to see your love. 

You park on the sidewalk, blocking a door to a local orphanage, firehouse, combo. You get out of the exotic supercar and start to walk down the street. 

“Y/N!”

You hear your name, but don’t turn, because of how grossly famous you are. It’s probably paparazzi and fans like always. 

A hand suddenly grabs your arm, but it’s not startling, it feels almost familiar… You turn facing the other. The world feels like it slows down for a moment as you look into his eyes. It’s like you’re the only two people in the world for a few moments. 

You lean a bit closer to him, whispering in a quiet but sensual tone, “Animals aren’t fucking sentient.”

“I’m Harry Styles,” your famous ex responds. 

You stand there, with Harry’s hand on your forearm, looking into his beautiful eyes that remind you of wet dirt after a hurricane. 

“I… what are you doing here? Don’t you live in Australia?” 

“I just missed you, I couldn’t live without you, Y/N. Please, I’m sorry! I’ll agree animals have no souls, for you love.”

“Y/N?” another voice calls out, this voice very distinctly… Daddy. 

You turn to see… Pedro Pascal. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be late.”

“No it’s fine… you’re an hour early, I’m the one who was late.”

“Who is this?” Harry asks. He’s staring at Pedro with his glowing orbs that remind you of the clouds on a sunny afternoon day during a horrible tornado. He looks almost entranced… he looks at Pedro with more love than he’s ever stared at you with. 

“Well, I’m Pedro Pascal.”

“Daddy,” you cough out, under your breath. 

“I’m Harry Styles.”

Harry lets go of your arm stepping closer to Pedro, holding out his hand. “It’s enchanting to meet you.” 

The two men shake hands, standing a bit closer than necessary, staring into each other's eyes as their hands are firmly grasped together. Harry’s eyes looking almost like crushed starlight before a supernova, Pedro’s eyes looking… attractive. 

“Y/N, would you be ok if we all skipped dinner. We could eat back at my place.” Pedro suggested.

Well you had heard that Pedro was a decent chef, no articles had ever mentioned him burning down a kitchen before. “Sure! I’d love that!” you agree without hesitation. 

Everyone went back down the street, getting into your Ford Focus. Pedro gave directions as you drove to his mansion. 

Pedro’s house was ginormous, though rather modest and quaint. The place was covered in gold and marble. 

As soon as the car was parked Pedro pulled you and Harry into the house immediately, shutting the door behind you both once inside. 

Suddenly without even realizing it all three of you were in Pedro’s bed, a small Alaskan king. 

Clothes were gone. 

You laid there beneath the two, looking at them sexually. You look up seeing Harry’s voluptuous disks of burning camembert cubes inside of a blackhole. Then there’s Pedro Pascal, “daddy,” you accidentally let slip out as you stare at his large sexy deep nose pores. 

“Oh what’s that you called me?” Pedro asks you, his voice full of attraction. 

You are about to respond when you feel something very… distinct enter you. Only a moan leaves you. Your eyes shut focusing on the feeling, though moments after when you open them all you see is Harry and Daddy Pascal making out, erotically. 

As you watch them the pleasure continues to build up, something wet starts dripping down… your face. 

Harry’s hand gently glides under your nose, his hand pulls away covered in your blood. He stares down at you with his beautiful pools of oceanic eyes during a volcanic explosion. Slowly he starts licking your blood off of his hand, eyes closed in pleasure as he cleans the blood of your nose off of his delicate fingers.

You gasp watching, your nose gushing a bit more. Though soon more than that gushes. 

The three of you soon lay there on the bed, cuddled up close together under the covers. Daddy Pascal holding you close and gently running his hand through your hair. 

“Thank you, daddy… and Harry.” you whisper. 

Though suddenly you start to hear a familiar song, backstreet boys… Your mother is calling. 

The Caller ID reads: Kris Jenner. 

Pedro happens to see it as he reaches for your phone to hand it to you, and he suddenly freezes. “Kris?”

“Oh, well that’s my mom,” you explain reaching for the phone out of his hand. 

“How old are you?”

“I’m…”

Pedro nods, releasing your phone, “I think I’m… your father.”

“Oh… well I guess you really are a daddy then.”

“I guess I certainly am.” Pedro smirks, kissing you carnally before he leans over you, kissing Harry too in a passionate manner. “I also suppose this was wonderful practice for our movie.” 

#x reader #pedro pascal #harry styles #crack fic #real person fiction #reader insert #not a serious post #horrible ​descriptions of eyes

[nuinindia2023]

Day 17

Happy Birthday Gauravi! We kicked off today with breakfast from the buffet at our hotel. It has delicious food spanning from Indian cuisine to Western cuisine. Then, we went to the headquarters of CureFit, a health and fitness company.

First we got an office tour from Rishi. It was interesting to learn that there are no role titles at CureFit, and there are no assigned desks. Each floor is stocked with fitness equipment that we got to try out. They had treadmills, monkey bars, ellipticals, a basketball court, and even a massage chair.

Then, we listened to a presentation from Shalabh, a strategy leader at CureFit. He gave us an overview on CureFit, and told us that they are a new age company attempting to make health easy in India. After that, Mujtabha, who works in the fitness group, spoke to us about the fitness business within CureFit, CultFit. He told us that CultFit exists in 90 cities across India. Then Shahbaaz, a brand manager, presented to us and told us about an exciting upcoming collaboration with Marvel. Next, we had lunch on the open-air top floor. We ate the delicious and nutritious Indian food that CureFit caters for its workers every day.

After lunch, we listened to Phalguni present on the brand and marketing side of CureFit. She taught us that CureFit has the mission of making fitness fun, easy, and accessible. Then Rishi presented to us and showed us CureFit advertisements. Lastly, Mujtabha told us about the history of the company, and his journey working at CureFit. It was a pleasure getting to learn from so many inspiring members of the CureFit team. Then, we celebrated Gauravi’s birthday with a chocolate cake. Pictured is Sagar feeding the cake to her after we sang. Finally, we visited SugarFit, a health-tech company owned by CureFit that aims to manage and reverse diabetes.

To end our visit, we did a CultFit Zumba class. It was easily one of the highlights of my time in India. It was a great break from our learning and work! We came back to the hotel and all did our own thing for dinner because we are prioritizing our case studies due this week. Excited to visit the Incubation Cell tomorrow!

[starstruckkittensweets]

"Laced with Love" | Levi x Reader (Kinktober 2023)

Lingerie - Levi Ackerman

Fandom: Attack on Titan Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Words: 1.9k

A/N: Star attempting Kinktober? What sorcery is this?! But yes I'm back with my spontaneous fic schedule; I tried to do all 31 days but realized I'd be biting off more than I could choose, so I'm doing what I did a few years ago, randomly posting kinky fics throughout the month. It's been a while since I've written for my man Levi but I couldn't not start off this little challenge without him! I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI (you will be blocked), canon au, mentions of fem! reader, dirty talk, lingerie, unprotected sex, Levi's kinda needy in this one

Levi’s always loved it when you dress up for him.

Uniforms, formal wear, even raggedy old sleep clothes—he always has a soft smile on his face, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. Whispering how pretty you look before moving down to kiss your neck.

So you hope he still thinks you’re pretty as you twirl around in front of the mirror, eyeing the brand new set you’d picked up this morning.

A black lace bra hugs your chest, fitting snugly against your skin when you fasten the little clasp at your back. A matching pair of panties rests on your hips, bits of lace curling over your skin and down your thighs. This is the first time you’re trying on such a bold color; other times it’s been red or blue, and Levi’s loved both of them.

You hope he likes this one just as much as you do.

You give another twirl and smile at your reflection. You look fucking good. Hanji was right, lacy things only make your body look better, even more than it already does. You’ll have to thank her again if this night goes as planned.

There’s another late-night meeting in Erwin’s office. Something about the upcoming trip to Mitras, or the meager budget plan the Scouts have to work with every few months (the same one Erwin keeps negotiating with, unfortunately). You and Levi share the same distaste for formal affairs in the capital; unfortunately, his position as captain doesn’t exempt him from any preparation or planning for said trips to Mitras. Leaving you in his office to entertain yourself until Erwin finally lets him go.

You stretch yourself out on his bed and stare up at the ceiling. It’s only a matter of time, now.

Nearly an hour later, you can hear footsteps from down the hall. The click of a lock, the thud of heavy boots against the floor. You can’t stop yourself from smiling as you listen to him on the other side of the door.

Shuffling the paperwork on his desk. Tapping on the door as gently as he can. Sighing your name when he asks, “You in there, brat?”

You prop yourself on your elbows and gaze ahead to the door. “Only if you’re alone.”

The door swings open slowly, the squeak of the hinges sending a shiver down your spine. Levi’s standing there in the doorway, cravat hanging loosely from his neck, his jacket draped over the crook of his arm. You hold your breath, praying with every bone in your body that he likes what he sees—

But then he smirks, and your chest feels a thousand times lighter.

“What’s the occasion?”

“What, I can’t surprise my boyfriend once in a while?” You sit up on the bed, tucking your legs beneath you. Crawling over to the edge with a smirk. “I thought you liked my surprises, captain.”

He’s shaking his head as he steps closer to the bed. Kicking the door shut behind him and setting his jacket neatly on the chair in the corner. His cravat follows close behind, and you can’t help the soft pang of disappointment in your chest; he might not have any plans to use it on you tonight.

Maybe next time, though.

“Tell me,” his voice is husky as he leans in, taking your face in his warm hands, “how long were you in here, waiting for me?”

“Only an hour or so. You sure know how to make a girl feel desperate.”

You make a show of squeezing your thighs together, smiling as his jaw clenches at the sight. He runs his thumb over your lips, soft and sweet, as his other hand trails down your neck to toy with your bra strap.

“Black lace looks good on you, sweetheart.” Your heart leaps in your throat as he kisses down the length of your neck. Slipping a finger beneath the strap, before letting it go with a soft snap. “Might be my favorite so far.”

“Oh, really?” You reach up and thread your fingers through his hair. “I might have to wear it again for you. Just make sure you don’t rip it.”

“Mm, don’t tempt me.”

He pulls you in close, lips brushing against your own, as you busy yourself with the buttons on his shirt. You slide it off his shoulders, fingers dancing along his bare chest. But you don’t have much time to admire him before he’s scooping you up in his arms, twisting your legs around his waist and flopping you back down on the bed. You let out a laugh as he nuzzles his face into your neck, all the while working to get his belt undone.

“Eager, aren’t we? I’m glad I have such an effect on you, cap—oh…”

Your voice dies in your throat as he slips a hand down your panties, fingers teasing at your slick entrance. He smirks against your neck, his thumb circling around your clit.

“I could say the same about you. Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting in these soaked panties, waiting for me to fuck you senseless.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, dragging two fingers along your slit—smirking like the bastard he is when he sees you squirming beneath his touch.

“You were, weren’t you? Waiting for that meeting to finish so I could come and take care of you… Tch, you really are desperate, aren’t you?”

“Then hurry up and fuck me already,” you manage to gasp out, but there’s no bite left in your voice. “What are you waiting for?”

Your question is left unanswered, as he moves his hands to the waistband of his pants. He only gets it down past his thighs before you reach down to cup him in your hand. Already half-hard against your palm, eagerly nipping at the skin of your neck.

It doesn’t take long for his cock to harden. His lips are hot against your own, hands grasping at the clasp of your bra. Your eyes snap open at the sudden jerk of his hands, and the sharp tearing of lacy fabric fills your ears.

“L-Levi!”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, squeezing your breasts together, rolling them in his hands, “can’t wait—I’ll get you another set, I promise…”

The two of you are moaning into each other’s mouths; you let out a whine when he tears the black panties in half, groaning when he slides his fingers along your wet slit. Watching him with half-lidded eyes as he slides a finger inside, closely followed by a second.

Your back arches at the first curl of his fingers. He leans down to kiss your throat, making his way down to your breasts, timing them with the thrusts of his fingers.

Leaving the scraps of black lace draped over your chest, careful not to move them off.

Still thinks you’re pretty in it, huh?

“C’mon…” It’s hard to keep the whine out of your voice as he stretches you out with his fingers. “Hurry up, I know you want to… You’re just as desperate as me, right?”

He shudders against your chest, and you slide your fingers across his hair once more. Looks like you’ve won him over, because he’s taking his cock in his hand, pumping himself with your slick, and sliding into you in one swift motion.

Stars sparkle behind your eyelids. You reach out to him, humming softly when his hands find your own. He kisses you gently, careful not to move his hips just yet.

No matter how many times you’ve done this, you’ll never get used to the feeling of his cock inside of you.

“You good?”

You giggle at the breathless tone of his voice. “Yeah, I’m good… You?”

“Never better.”

And he proves it with a slow thrust of his hips. He’s gentle at first, just like he always is. Sweet and observant, paying more attention to your body rather than his own. Putting your pleasure above his own, no matter what fantasy you’ve trapped yourselves in.

You moan out his name, tucking your legs around his waist, dragging your nails down his muscular back. He kisses you deeply before picking up the pace, securing your body against his sweaty chest.

The two of you are writhing on the bed, pulling each other close with every thrust of your hips. Already you can feel that familiar burn in the pit of your stomach—the same one Levi always manages to coax out of you, no matter what.

“Levi,” you whine out, lifting your hips off the bed to meet him halfway, “m-more, please—”

It doesn’t take much to convince him, it never does. So he pins your hands to the bed on either side of your head, capturing your mouth with his own, and setting that familiar rough pace that you both love so much.

The bed is squeaking now, barely audible beneath your moans and cries. Every thrust sends a bolt of pleasure up your spine; every kiss and touch has you screaming out your lover’s name. You grasp at his hair, his back, his shoulders—anything to bring him closer to you.

The burn in your stomach is growing unbearable. You whine out Levi’s name, and that’s all it takes before he’s reaching down between your bodies to circle your swollen clit.

“I know, princess, I know. So fucking good for me, you know that? Always so good—”

Your heels dig into his lower back; you can almost taste it, the sweet release waiting for you at the end. And Levi keeps pushing, determined to bring you to your peak over and over again.

“C’mon, be a good girl and come for me. I know you can do it, I know—”

His voice catches in his throat as you come apart in his arms. Screaming out his name at the top of your lungs, digging your nails into the skin of his shoulders. Pure bliss rattles throughout your body as he takes you higher, so far up you almost forget about the world outside. The Scouts, the Walls, the glowing capital of Mitras—none of it matters. Nothing except you and Levi, nestled within these four walls. Safe and sound at last.

A breathless moan in the form of your name tears you out of your thoughts. He gives a few final thrusts before spilling himself inside of you. Breathing hard against the crook of your neck. Curling his arms underneath your back to lift you up into his chest, pressing a line of kisses down your throat.

Neither of you make any move to pull away. Instead you just lay there on the bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms, oblivious to the world around you. Absolute, unbridled bliss.

But Levi comes to his senses first, as he always does. His sweaty skin sticks to yours as he slides himself out of you, strings of his cum dripping down on the torn lacy fabric on your thighs.

“Sorry I ruined them.” And he does sound sorry as he scoops you up and carries you towards the bathroom. “I promise, I’ll get you another set.”

“You better, captain. I really liked them.” But there’s a smile on your face as you lean up to kiss his cheek. “And I’m glad you did, too. Lace seems to be your favorite kind of outfit on me, huh?”

He remains silent the rest of the walk to the bathroom, but the faintest shade of pink on his cheeks is all the answer you need. 

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[soni5]

What are tips from commercial office interior designers for completing “Creating a Welcoming Reception Area”?

Introduction:

The reception area is the first point of contact for visitors, clients, and employees entering your commercial office space. It plays a crucial role in making a positive first impression and setting the tone for the overall workplace experience. To ensure a welcoming and professional ambiance, commercial office interior designers employ specific strategies and design elements. In this blog, we will share valuable tips from these experts on creating a welcoming reception area that leaves a lasting impression.

Strategic Layout and Flow:

A well-designed Commercial Office Interior Design reception area should have a clear and intuitive layout that directs visitors effortlessly. Begin by considering the flow of foot traffic, ensuring it is easy to navigate from the entrance to the reception desk. Avoid clutter and allow ample space for comfortable movement. Arrange seating areas in a way that encourages conversation and provides privacy, while still allowing visibility of the receptionist’s desk.

Engaging Reception Desk:

The reception desk is the focal point of the area, so it should be visually appealing and reflect the company’s brand identity. Choose materials and finishes that are durable and create a professional look. Commercial Office Interior Design Consider incorporating a branded logo or signage to reinforce brand recognition. Ensure that the desk design allows for both an efficient workspace for reception staff and a welcoming interaction point for visitors.

Comfortable Seating:

Comfortable seating is essential in a reception area, as visitors may have to wait for extended periods. Opt for ergonomic chairs with supportive cushioning and consider a mix of individual chairs and modular seating arrangements to cater to different group sizes. Use upholstery and fabrics that are not only visually appealing but also durable and easy to clean. Add accent pillows or cushions for a touch of style and comfort.

Warm and Inviting Color Palette:

The choice of colors can greatly impact the ambiance of the reception area. Opt for a warm and inviting color palette that aligns with your brand and evokes a sense of comfort. Neutrals with pops of color or soft tones can create a welcoming atmosphere. Avoid overly bold or garish colors that may overwhelm visitors. Additionally, consider the psychological effects of colors, such as blue for calmness or green for a sense of nature and tranquility.

Thoughtful Lighting:

Proper lighting sets the mood and enhances the visual appeal of the reception area. A combination of natural and artificial lighting is ideal. Utilize large windows to maximize natural light, which promotes a welcoming and refreshing atmosphere. Supplement with well-placed overhead and accent lighting to ensure a well-lit space, especially during darker hours. Dimmer switches allow for adjusting lighting levels to suit different times of the day or specific occasions.

Attention to Details:

Small details can make a significant difference in creating a welcoming environment. Consider adding elements like artwork, plants, or decorative accessories that reflect your company’s values or culture. Displaying magazines or informative brochures relevant to your industry can offer visitors something to read while waiting. Ensure that there are easily accessible power outlets and charging stations for guests to use.

Branding and Personalization:

Incorporate your brand identity and personal touches into the reception area. Display your company’s mission statement or core values in an aesthetically pleasing way. Use artwork or graphics that reflect your brand’s personality. Consider incorporating a multimedia display or digital signage to showcase your company’s achievements or upcoming events. These elements create a sense of connection and familiarity with visitors.

Conclusion:

Creating a welcoming reception area is vital for making a positive first impression and setting the tone for the overall office experience. By strategically designing the layout, incorporating an engaging reception desk, ensuring comfortable seating, utilizing warm and inviting colors, paying attention to lighting, focusing on details, and infusing brand identity, businesses can create a reception area that leaves a lasting impression on visitors and enhances the overall experience of their Commercial Office Interior Design space.

Working with commercial office interior designers can bring valuable expertise and creative insight to help design a reception area that aligns with your brand, business goals and the needs of your visitors. Their knowledge of space planning, color psychology, furniture selection, and lighting design can ensure that your reception area becomes a welcoming and inviting space. You can get your next Commercial Office interior designed and built by a tech-led interior design company such as Flipspaces which can be your one-stop solution to all your turnkey needs.

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[cdnose86]

mirror me booth Can Be Fun For Anyone

I Found This Interesting & distinctly interactive picture displays for the contemporary grow older, excellent for all unique events. In simple fact, our assortment of unique electronic photo displays are going to receive you dealt with in the very most exceptional photos you'll face on your excursions. * The booths will definitely give a distinct atmosphere for the VIP and non-POV visitors! In the case of VIPs we make it possible for them to enter at all opportunities for a very first appeal at the displays. The Photo Booth… Reimagined The Photo Booth… Reimagined Take your event to the upcoming degree along with our innovative, uniquely involved photo displays! We make use of a combination of a blend of a image database and your smart phone to grab gorgeous and appealing photographs. We think that grabbing and sharing a lovely yard with our photograph booth has extensive market value. We desire to assist you observe the future in your very own words and not those you make by having you join our group. Selfie Mirror picture cubicles are ultra-sleek touch monitor mirrors that welcome visitors to record personalized selfies straight via their representation in the mirror. The brand new features consist of touchscreen lenses that may check and multiply your whole image to make your own state of mind and lighting setups. And the brand-new concept also offers you infinite pictures to generate right away. Along with the iPhone 4S, you may opt for from over 900 various images to take on the roadway, or merely add a image for customization. Along with Endless high-res prints and digital GIFs, on-the-spot message/e-mail allotment, and old-fashioned gaming function, Selfie Mirrors delivers many hours of home entertainment while recording memorable keepsakes. The app features a wide range of real-time video information including authentic video clips, authentic images, and audio monitor documented through one of the world's best digital photography experts. A new component contacted SURELY, brings you more relevant information about your selfie every day with your pals. Our photograph experiences come in many sophisticated display designs: Mini Mirror, Selfie Mirror, and Luxe Mirror. We market our photo cubicles at the majority of of our retail stores, so you can easily make an effort our booth's products on a day of your choice. Our booth's indoor design is a simple one, with a light-colored couch, a comfortable desk, chair, desk, office chair and chairstand out of the box, helped make from recyclable materials and heavy duty materials that will definitely last for years to happen.

From full-length contact screens to additional compact sizes, there’s a package for any sort of activity and finances. The cam happens in two sizes: the conventional iPhone 5s, and the iPad Pro. The display screen gives up 10 million shades to match. But there's additionally one display screen for every unit, suggesting a bigger amount of shades are on call. For instance, you may possess 25,000 high settlement photos, and one more 15,000 reduced settlement images. Publication Selfie Mirror for your upcoming activity today! When would you as if to post a picture of a brand new selfie mirror/photo structure?! I'd Really love to view! Email us at [email protected] along with any questions. I'd truly value it if you might participate in in! And if you desire to help out, check out out the Selfie Forum and the Instructables Forums where you can deliver us pictures or tips for something enjoyable and instructional. Right now available in Springfield, Kansas City, and the surrounding location. The two guys who supposedly took the cars and trucks additionally purchased four more cars and trucks, one of which was worth $45,000, and at that point marketed the various other to a male who'd relocated them into a van that was worth $75,000, an alleged source claimed. Their intent was to burglarize one more vehicle. No one was harmed in the auto theft, police pointed out. The men obviously took the car over to a buddy's apartment or condo. How Selfie Mirror Works Step One: Touch the Display To Begin! 1. Push and contact the display screen to touch the bottom left corner of the image. 2. Currently push and store L to go coming from best to bottom. 3. Currently touch the base left corner of the graphic to the leave of absence and ideal. 4. Right now push L to go coming from best to bottom. 5. Right now pick which graphic to be on. 6. Straight click on the intended picture to relocate it out of concentration. Selfie Mirrors catch pictures utilizing a reflective display screen and facial discovery program. The pictures can provide a special view of the setting to potential freelance photographers who really want to obtain near in deepness in their images. What does this suggests in conditions of how digital photographers will definitely utilize them? How will they make use of them in front of folks? How will definitely they make use of their eyes? What are some of the advantages of making use of this technology for your service?

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[zaynafurnitureus]

Seven Ways to Repurpose Old Office Furniture Pieces

It's no secret that in today's economic climate, businesses are trying to cut costs wherever they can. Is this not the perfect time to assess the waste products of your company and consider alternative uses or recycling strategies for them? The old adage that "one man's trash is another man's treasure" holds true: if you look hard enough, you can find something useful even in the garbage.

Bring Back the Shine to the Old Wooden Office Desk

Owning a wooden office desk gives you the option to refinish it whenever you like. The wood on your desk may have worn down over time, but if the frame is still solid, you may want to think about giving it a new coat of finish.

The shine and appeal of an old table can be restored by refinishing it. To achieve this, you can use any number of commercially available wood stains. You should try some refinishing methods on your office desk before you throw it away. The best refinished desks start with a clean, dust-free surface. 

Here are a few examples of readily available stains for your wooden desk:

Satin varnishes are typically formulated by mixing aniline dye with varnish. Typically, these stains are applied to the furniture's hidden crevices and drawers.

Pigmented Oil Stains are created using a variety of solvents including mineral spirits, linseed oil, and others. These stains don't break the bank and are simple to apply.

Hardwood and softwood can both benefit from the use of penetrating oil stains. These stains are long-lasting because they penetrate the wood thoroughly.

Stains made from water are generally safer for the planet. These stains take very little time to dry after being applied. Paints with a higher wood quality that are water-based have become increasingly popular in recent times.

Repairing Damaged or Outdated Office Equipment

Buying brand-new office furniture isn't cheap, and replacing worn out pieces can add up quickly. You can let your maintenance manager's creativity run wild by digging out some dusty old pieces of furniture from the back of the warehouse. A lick of paint or some new upholstery can breathe new life into old furniture, and most problems with furniture can be fixed by someone with a little bit of know-how. If you are looking for some office furniture online in North Lauderdale, you can also invest in some pieces from several furniture websites. 

Revamp Cubicle Wall Billboards

Do you happen to have any unused partitions for cubicles lying around the office? Perhaps you could put up billboards with them. Workers can easily attach notes, posters, and other items to their cubicle walls because they are typically made of a wood or metal base with a soft fabric covering. But after the partition has been taken down, the space can still serve this function.

An old cubicle wall can serve as a lovely billboard if you have an empty room or two in the office. A cubicle wall can be easily installed on an unused wall in the office, and then decorated to your liking (or left blank so that employees can personalize it). Signs outside of buildings can also be used to inform office workers of upcoming events.

Make New Upholstery for Office Chairs

Office chairs typically have upholstery that deteriorates first. In the workplace, where people often spend eight hours or more per day sitting in their chairs, this is especially important. Constant deterioration from use can open cracks or tears in the upholstery. 

Nonetheless, that does not mean you have to throw it away. By reupholstering them, your office chairs look and feel like new. In the process of reupholstering, old upholstery is removed and replaced with new upholstery. Common methods include draping the new fabric over the chair and stapling it in place.

Create a Desk out of Two Cabinets

Converting two filing cabinets into a desk is yet another option. The two file cabinets support the desk's weight and serve as its "legs," the left one supporting the desk's center and the right one supporting the desk's right side.

The desk's actual surface, the tabletop, will still need to be crafted. Place a rectangular piece of lumber (pine, fir, spruce, hemlock, scotch pine, etc.) over the two filing cabinets. Get in touch with a neighborhood hardware store and inquire about getting some help finding the proper sized wood. Once the wood is in the desired position, you can secure it by drilling into the top of each filing cabinet with several screws.

The creative reuse of old filing cabinets is both entertaining and useful. Further, you can take it a notch higher by staining the wooden desk and painting the file cabinets. When viewed from the outside, this desk appears to be no different than any other, featuring a wooden surface and functional drawers.

Drawers

Even if the rest of your filing cabinet or chest of drawers have given up, you can reuse the drawers as wall art or to store office supplies. Free up some desk space by using one as a cubby for office supplies. If you have some spare drawers in your desk, check out these brilliant uses for them.

Paint

Paint is the quickest and simplest way to refresh a piece of furniture. Do some painting right now; all you need are some paints. A high level of artistic ability is not required for this job. In fact, you can include the kids or your pals in the activity. Choose a shade that harmonizes with the existing decor. Hopefully, this article has inspired you to make something truly special out of those discarded office supplies. After all, recycling and second-hand use are two of the quickest ways to cut costs and help the environment. You can always buy office furniture in Fort Lauderdale or go to a physical shop for viewing your options.

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[ideacamel39]

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