#a fellow full stop management client?

[alarrytale]

DawBell uses H name to get attention on JC and rehab JC's image. //

PR companies don't have that much power over a client. Harry would fire them if they were connecting him to a more controversial client against his will and to his detriment. He's just not bothered about the rumours surrounding James, not enough to end the friendship.

Why can't you accept that James Corden is Harry's friend just as Nizam Kabir is Louis' friend? People do stay friends with problematic people they've known since they were teenagers, especially if the behaviour isn't directed at them . I do myself. There's no need to invent conspiracies around Dawbell.

Hi, anon!

We don't know how much power DawBell's got over Harry, could be little or could be a lot. On their website they list the services they provide. One of them is "Media Navigation" which is "Comprehensive media management & coordination of promo opportunities". JC is their top client in Entertainment and Harry in Music. One planned pap outing together can be a coincidence, five or six is a coordinated promotional effort.

This is all very reminiscent of H and Nick Grim*haw when they were both under Hackford Jones.

From a business perspective H being seen this much with JC is detrimental to his reputation and image. JC is known to be a horrible, inconsiderate, arrogant person who looks down on others and throws temper tantrums when he doesn’t get his way. It's all well documented and publicly known. Nobody likes him and he's hardly got celebrity friends. JC is mocked and i'm surprised he still get gigs. There's been no public apology from JC for the way he's treated people. He's not forgiven by the public.

Harry can't be blind to everyone's opinions about JC, he's probably witnessed his horrible behaviour himself too. He also can't be blind to the fact that JC dumped Louis like a rock after 1D, and clings to H because of his fame. JC would have dumped H if he wasn't beneficial to him. Have no doubts about it. So to me it's not a real friendship, it's a mutual beneficial PR friendship.

I don't care if 30 year old Harry is actually friends with 45 year old JC. If you believe that they leisurely take citrus fruit bicycle trips to nurture their blossoming friendship, and paps just happens to take pictures of them together, then you do you.

From a business perspective it's a shit move on Harry's part. TPWK-Harry won't help out a Treat People Like Shit-friend like this several times when it's in danger of hurting his own image. Harry can have as many horrible friends he wants to, but he doesn’t need to actively be papped with them and promote them. The association is hurting his image, and DawBell wouldn't have allowed it if JC wasn't also a client of theirs.

It is hurting Harry's image and he looks like a hypocrite. So the only explanation to me is that it's a contractual obligation, or DawBell is cashing in a favour. I think they're banking on H's reputation handling this attempt at JC's image rehab, but don't be fooled to believe Harry's getting anything out of this situation, except headlines.

To the second anon - there is a difference between staying friends with problematic people and actively helping promoting them. That's equal to publicly supporting them. If Ni*am was a celebrity and Louis was plugging his stuff it would be bad for his image, but not as bad for his image as it is for H. Louis already has a homophobic image so it would be more in line of what to expect. JC is doing the opposite of what H is preaching so this is worse for H.

Please, do not be naive about all this. It's all business.

[applepiesupreme]

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

Chapter 15

AOC Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/143463790

She saw Saint Denis appear outside of her window and smiled, watching the buildings flicker in the distance. The feeling of home bloomed in her. The man across from her prattled on and she politely pretended to listen. 

"...Miss Ricci?"

"Hmmm? I'm sorry, my mind just went somewhere else for a minute."

He mirrored her smile. Clean shaven except for a well groomed mustache, clear skin, his hair a shock of yellow, his eyes an enticing shade of grey. Her gaze dipped down to his clothes - well tailored and fitting. The kind of man she used to find intriguing.

"I was asking when you're starting your new job."

Her smile widened into a grin. "In a week or so now."

"You seem excited," he chuckled. 

"I am." She shrugged, unapologetic. 

"It's refreshing to see someone like their job this much." He gave her a long look and she cleared her throat and went back to watching the approaching buildings. 

"I was thinking," Mr. Dunham drawled and she knew what he was going to say before he said it. “Maybe I can call on you sometime. I will be in the city for a few weeks. This contract my client wants to sign is lengthy and it'll take time to comb through it."

"I'm flattered," she said carefully. "But, I have some preparations to make. And after...well...new job and all that. I think I'll be very busy and when I'm not, likely tired."

She felt his gaze on her hands and knew he was confirming the lack of a ring as if he hadn't done so half a dozen times already.

"Still, everyone has to eat sometime."

"I eat at work," she said, feeling herself getting slightly flustered and not sure as to why. She had decided that she would move on, hadn't she? No reason why she shouldn't let him wine and dine her. And yet, all she felt at the prospect was a profound lack of interest. 

Unfortunately for her, he was the type who took rejection as a challenge: "I admire your dedication. But you must have days off."

"I do," she relented, suddenly glad that the train was pulling into the station and made to get up. He shot up before her and swiftly removed her valise from above, then his own. She stood about aimlessly and dropped back into her seat to wait for the train to come to a full stop. 

"I don't know my schedule yet." was her eventual conclusion.

Mr. Dunham nodded and took out a card to scribble on the back of it. The moment the train stopped Savigne shot up and moved to disembark. He followed with her valise. She stepped down the ladder and blinked in the bright sun, smelling the familiar smells of Saint Denis. Then froze when she spotted Arthur striding towards her. Her stomach did a flip at the sight of him. He had that sauntering, confident gait that she knew so well, easily recognizable anywhere. Her mouth ran dry at the sight of those long legs, the wide shoulders, the black shirt snug against his broad chest, the gunbelt swinging on his hip and of course that gambler hat, dipped low. 

It had been almost a week and although he had never been far from her thoughts, the days in New York had been busy, overwhelming, brimming with excitement and novelty, so she had managed not to wallow. Seeing him now, so unexpectedly out of the gate, she felt caught off guard and unprepared. She gaped in disbelief at his approaching form until she felt a touch on her arm.

“My card," her fellow traveler offered, "It has the name of the hotel I'll be staying at."

"I..." she stammered, still watching Arthur approach from the corner of her eye. "…Thank you." They shook hands and she felt him holding hers longer than he should have. She reached down for her valise.  

"I would really like it if you called on me, Miss Ricci." He lifted his hat momentarily. "Especially since you have some time before you start. I'm sure you know the best food in town, and I wouldn’t mind sampling it." He gave her a warm grin.

She forced a smile and stepped away with a nod. Arthur had come to stand a few feet from them. His eyes, clear, sharp and a deeper blue than the summer sky above them, flicked to the man for a moment before they locked on her again.

"Good day, Mr. Dunham," she managed as she stepped towards Arthur, who took her valise from her. 

"I prefer Erik," he called after her. He seemed unperturbed by the other man’s presence, even oblivious to it. Maybe he thought he was just a coachman, here to pick her up. 

Savigne nodded and walked away, feeling Arthur close at her heels.

She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "How did you know I was coming back today?"

"Didn’," was his simple response.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, surprised. The southbound train was scheduled to arrive once a day in Saint Denis. She dismissed the conclusion of his answer as ridiculous. 

"Why are you even h-”

"This way."

He veered to the left, her valise at hand, and after momentarily throwing up her arms in exasperation, she followed. Frost was waiting at the station and she ran up to him to pat his snout and coo in his ear. "Don't have apples for you today boy," she whispered as Arthur climbed up the saddle. "Sorry."

He extended his hand to her. She gave him a pointed look.

“Said ya was comin’ back to camp, didn’ ya?”

He looked confident and recovered from his setback. It shouldn't surprise her really, because unlike herself, Arthur had the remarkable ability to jump right back on whatever horse had bucked him. Licking her wounds took Savigne days if not weeks sometimes. But not for Arthur. When he took a tumble he just dusted himself off and climbed right back on the saddle. And now she felt at a disadvantage because her ire had dampened and she had never been able to keep a grudge. 

”I’m not going to camp, I’m going to the steakhouse,” she said, patting Frost’s flank.

”Fine, I’ll take ya.”

“I can go myse-”

“Thought ya wan’ed to be civil,” he said coolly.

She blinked, taken aback for a moment. “Well…yes, but..."

She eyed him with suspicion, trying to gauge if he meant it. It would make her camp life –whatever remained of it at this point- a lot less stressful if she didn't have to avoid him all the time, so there was that. He was a hard man to ignore and she hated the idea of zipping to and from her tent every time he was up and about in camp. But he had never struck her as the type who would care to keep a civil discourse. Then again, wasn’t it 'civil' to run errands for an old flame? The memory of Mary soured her stomach and put a scowl on her face. 

"Ya sayin' I can't be, that it?” He asked when he misread it. He gave her an intense look, swaying on the horse, hand still extended. "Cause I ain't fancy like yer friend?" His head jabbed back to the station. 

Savigne felt her face heat up. "That's nonsense," she muttered, offended. She grabbed his hand and pulled herself up to settle behind him.

A moment later she added, miffed: "Also, he wasn't my friend."

"Could'a fooled me," he shot back lowly.

“He was just a fellow traveler,” annoyed that she felt the compulsion to explain herself.

“That so?” he growled, “No fellow traveler ask me to dinner, tell ya that.”

At least I didn’t saunter around town in his arm, she thought darkly but bit back the words. One of them had to be the mature person and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Arthur.

This decision went right out the window the next moment: “You sure you want to be seen with me in town? People might get the wrong idea, wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation,” she quipped.

”Christ,” he managed stiffly before he clicked his tongue for Frost to move.

She smiled to herself, basking in the satisfaction of pettiness. That is, until his smell of tobacco, horse and fire brought back a rush of emotion. Here we go again, she thought sourly. It daunted her, this pull he had on her. She was fine when he wasn’t around, it was a easy to keep her mind busy, a skill she had honed over the years. But the moment he showed up, she felt the force of the maelstrom tugging at her again, spinning her, sucking her ever closer. No matter how much rationalization she came up with in her head, it wasn't enough to withstand the force of that pull. I need to move out of camp, she thought to herself. Would have been easier if she hadn’t spent a good chunk of her savings on a hotel in Saint Denis and a trip to New York, but there was no helping it. Being around him was making moving on unnecessarily difficult. After she had barely pined for him for almost an entire week, ten minutes into showing up he was bewitching her again with his stupid eyes and his stupid scent and his stupid touch.

“I appreciate the civility,” she explained as they rode through the familiar streets, “but it’s not necessary. I’m not so dainty that I can’t carry my own valise.”

He didn’t answer for a while.

”Might be, just wan’ed to make sure yer fine,” he said roughly.

Something warm and soft bloomed in her gut and she hastily stomped it out. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

”Woman,” was the sigh of exasperation, “ya don’ need to raise yer hackles at everything I say.”

Savigne pressed her lips, chided.

They arrived at the back door of the steakhouse. She slid down and ran in, expecting him to wait for her outside. To her surprise, he took her valise and followed. 

In the kitchen Luther was exactly where she had left him, flipping steaks at the burner.  

"Welcome back!" he hollered and gave her a big hug. Arthur strode in after her and stood a few steps away to place the valise on the floor.  

"You won't believe the things I cooked Luther! Like, first off - New York - amazing. I mean scary, a little, but also amazing. So busy, so many things to do! It's like you go there and you go through a time machine, it's the future! Anyhow, I whipped up some meringue; you would have cried your beady little eyes out, it was the best one in class, perfect stiff tips, our chef passed it around, can you believe that, you should have seen the look on people’s faces, especially this one guy, I didn’t like him, he reminded me of George, remember George, he used to work here a few years back and always had that dirty apron, jesus, the grime on that apron, I mean seriously, how hard can it be to wash your damn apron, you don’t see me complaining, but George, he didn’t even care, unbelievable, instant reason to fire someone if you ask me, inexcusable, imagine cooking people’s food and you look like you just crawled through a back alley, but that was before Mr. Bower became a partner here of course and thank god for that because the menu before that was just – I mean, might as well put slop on a plate at that point...

"Savigne, take a breath."

She sputtered and took a breath. "Anyway, as I was saying…"

"See here," he interrupted, taking out the cigarette from his mouth to wave it in her face as she vehemently swatted the smoke away, "I can see yer worked up and ready to rattle on till youse blue, but I don' have the ear for it today. Some of us still have to work."

She rolled her eyes. "I know you're dying to hear all about it, don't pretend otherwise."

"I assure ya, I want nothin’ less." 

"So anyway, and then we ate at this restaurant..."

"Who's yer friend?"

There was a long moment of awkward silence. Then Arthur extended his hand with a gruff “Arthur" and Luther shook it, locking eyes with him and giving him a wide smile. Savigne just watched the two big hands clasp and shifted on her feet with unease, not sure if she liked the idea of these particular two spheres of her life overlapping.

"Luther here." He pointed his steak fork at the other man. "Ya know…I think I might ‘ave heard about ya."

Arthur crossed his arms, scratched his beard. “That so?”

"Maybe I'll come back later!” Savigne interjected with haste. “Given your foul mood.” Last thing she wanted was for Luther to reveal something she had said about Arthur in the past. Knowing him, it would be something wildly inappropriate and possibly untrue.

Luther gave her an amused look. Then the fork jabbed in her direction: "Ya do that." 

"I know you missed me," she huffed.

He just flipped a steak, nonchalant. 

"Jesus, who uncorked you and let you turn into vinegar?"

He scrutinized the orders stuck at the railing above his head. 

"Fine! I'll come back later."

"Ya keep sayin’ that, but youse still here."

She rolled her eyes again and caught Arthur's lips twitching. It propelled her to leave.  

"Don't know what I was thinking," she mumbled to herself, exiting the backdoor. "Grumpy old man!"

Arthur saddled back up and offered her his hand. She climbed up, distracted and her mood rattled.

How come I always pick these horrible men, she ruminated. I deserve to be treated nicely, instead I just get shoved around, ignored and talked down to. Mr Dunham at least had been polite. If she called on him, he wouldn't treat her like a nuisance and rudely chase her out. No sir, he would likely jump at the idea of seeing her, would arrive early and maybe kiss her hand when she did. No doubt he would treat her like a gentleman, open doors and pull out chairs for her, let her advise him what to order and of course insist she order first. Then he would sit and listen attentively and with interest when she spoke, ask questions and praise her wits and her character and her looks and make her feel important and special.

But then she thought of how Luther had always been there for her when she was going through a tough time and how Arthur had done things for her Mr Dunham never would have even attempted, and felt a little guilty. Yes, they weren’t always tolerable, they were difficult men with sharp tongues and rough attitudes, and more often than not they annoyed the hell out of her, but they were always there when it counted. She sighed and looked around, only to realize that they were at the outskirts of Saint Denis.

"Where are we going?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.

"Home.”

Savigne thought about her dramatic exit from camp. In hindsight, she must have looked a bit unhinged, stomping around like a madwoman, face flushed, clothes damp, hair hanging wild. She cringed at the memory. "Take me back to Saint Denis. I'll come to camp when I'm ready," she said with a lofty tone.

''Fraid ya can’t,” he said casually.

”Huh?”

”Seeing Cricket is there already."

A jolt of surprise went through her.

”Excuse me?!”

"Took him back few days ago."

”You took my god damn horse?!” she sputtered in disbelief. “Why?!”

"Didn' think they cared for’im well enough,” he sighed, leisurely lighting a cigarette.

If she had ever heard bullshit, this was it. She was speechless for a few moments. “Am I allowed to raise my hackles now?” she spat when she found her voice again.

He actually, seriously grunted in affirmation.

Serves me right for falling for that civility racket, she thought, her temper starting to sizzle. He had taken Cricket not just to leave himself as the only option to return to camp, but clearly also to force her back earlier than she had planned. Arthur was clever enough but he loved to play dumb to get his way and it irritated her that he was certainly getting it today. Well if he thought that meant he can give her a night time visit, he had another thing coming. She was going to sleep with knife at hand tonight, not under the pillow. 

“How did you even manage to do that?” she hissed. No stable would allow a non owner to take out a horse, it would defy the whole point of stabling your horse.

“The kid and I came to an...understandin'.” She could hear the smug grin in his voice.

Poor Jebediah, she thought and ground her teeth.

"Don't even think about veering off the main road," she said darkly.

"No ma'am," was his simple response as he kicked Frost into gear.

[mothermara]

The Tale of a Thief from Kragenmoor

Gorvas Verethi was the most talentless thief in Kragenmoor. So talentless, in fact, that the guards could not find reason to lock him away; every crime he tried to commit had failed so incredibly that he'd never managed to do anything illegal in the first place, save for wasting the time of the watch.

"Gorvas," a fellow thief said one afternoon, "I've got a job for you, so simple a guar couldn't muck it up."

"What's in it for me?" Gorvas postured, as though he had many other lucrative means of paying his tab at the cornerclub.

"Ten drakes."

"Netch-shit. Fifteen or I'm not lifting a finger on your behalf, you big fat grub."

"Five."

Gorvas glowered for a moment, then settled for ten. The job seemed easy enough, he thought, as the cutpurse explained the plan. He was to cause a diversion in the temple by picking the lock to the priestesses quarters in the far corner while his companion procured a certain urn for a client in Blacklight.

"What's special about the urn?"

The other thief shrugged, "Not my business. It's not enchanted, nor a relic of value as far as I know. My client said she'd pay good for it, nonetheless. And if all goes well, maybe I'll pay you good, too. Alright?"

Gorvas agreed, eagerly thinking of all the drinks, jewels and wenches he could buy with such hypothetical wealth.

The next day, he went to the temple and crept to the locked door to the living quarters. He kneeled by the lock, and began to probe around with his pick, which snapped no sooner than he put it in. No matter, Gorvas thought, for he'd brought all five of his picks for the job. He inserted another into the lock.

The door suddenly wrenched open, revealing a beautiful young priestess. She demanded he explain himself, to which he simply smiled and got to his feet.

"I was merely taking a look inside, sweet nightingale. Ah, what treasure you are, indeed! Now-"

Her hands seized his throat, and one poisoned nail sank into his skin.

"Don't speak." The priestess cooed, "A maggot like you would do well to listen when addressed by your Lady."

Gorvas felt paralysis grip his body as she guided him to the ground.

"Now open your throat." The priestess said.

Several days had passed before Gorvas fully came to his senses. The air was cold. He found himself in a wagon clutching a large, ornately painted clay urn. A terrible cough rattled through his body each time he drew breath.

"You're not making it to Blacklight sick as you are, sera. Tell you what, I'll take you through the pass to the Rift and you can get fixed up by an alchemist, eh? I oughta stop for supplies, anyway." The wagon driver called back.

Gorvas took a wheezing breath and didn't argue. Another bout of coughing shook through him. It felt as though there were cobwebs in his lungs.

He wondered, briefly, what had happened to his fellow thief and the temple priestess. It mattered not, for now he had the urn and could claim the full cut for himself. Still, the girl's dark eyes swam in his mind, watching him from within as he succumbed to feverish sleep.

Gorvas Verethi wondered if the urn had grown heavier, somehow, as he carried it towards the city of Riften. At first, he thought it was merely an illusion caused by his weariness. He set down the urn and hacked pale, blood-streaked strings of sputum into his hankerchief. He was worse for wear now that he was travelling on foot.

A small dark spot on the cloth seemed to twitch, slightly. It unfolded its legs from the clotted blood and scuttled into his sleeve.

Get up, a whispered voice urged, you must bring her to the city.

The thief wheezed and panted, trying to catch his breath as he got to his feet and hoisted the urn into his arms.

"Bring who..." He could scarcely rasp.

Your daughter, the Whispering Lady replied. The urn's weight shifted from within. Gorvas trudged on.

"... Ransacked wagon over at Dayspring Pass, word is. Must've been a troll, for both horse and rider had been torn asunder. Poor courier said she hadn't seen anything like it before." The gate guards were chattering amongst themselves when the thief had arrived.

"Hail, Serjo!" Verethi greeted, voice rough and breathy from disease. He looked at his arms, which cradled his newborn daughter. His veins branched darkly across his bony hands. He staggered to the city gate, every fiber of his being burning with exhaustion. It would feel very nice to sleep, he mused to himself.

The guards looked startled as he approached, almost afraid. Gorvas extended the child before him as though he was bestowing them a precious relic. One guard drew closer and let his hand fall from the hilt of his sword. He caught her as Gorvas fell to his knees.

"Her name is Vaynith, serjo... I pray you see to her needs at once."

Sleep, now. You've done well, my dear.

Gorvas Verethi agreed and let his eyes fall shut for the last time.

[spprkle]

Simplifying Your Business Operations: A Guide to Pink Zebra Consultant Login

In the realm of direct sales and home-based businesses, Pink Zebra stands out as a unique opportunity for individuals looking to unleash their entrepreneurial spirit. With its innovative approach to home fragrance and décor, Pink Zebra offers a range of customizable products that allow consultants to build their businesses while helping customers create inviting spaces that reflect their personalities. Central to this endeavor is the Pink Zebra Consultant Login portal, a powerful tool designed to streamline operations and empower consultants in their journey towards success.

Understanding Pink Zebra Consultant Login

The Pink Zebra Consultant Login portal serves as the gateway to a plethora of resources and functionalities tailored specifically for consultants. Whether you're a seasoned entrepreneur or just starting your Pink Zebra journey, this platform is your one-stop destination for managing orders, accessing training materials, tracking your progress, and connecting with a community of like-minded individuals.

Features and Benefits

Order Management: The Consultant Login portal provides a convenient interface for managing customer orders. Consultants can easily place orders, track shipments, and ensure timely delivery to their clients. With real-time updates and order history tracking, staying organized has never been easier.

Training and Support: Pink Zebra is committed to empowering its consultants with the knowledge and skills needed to thrive in the business. Through the Consultant Login portal, individuals gain access to a wealth of training resources, including tutorials, webinars, and marketing materials. Whether you're seeking guidance on product presentations or tips for expanding your customer base, the platform has you covered.

Business Insights: Success in direct sales requires a keen understanding of your business metrics. The Consultant Login portal offers valuable insights into sales performance, commission earnings, and team growth. Consultants can track their progress, set goals, and make informed decisions to drive their businesses forward.

Community Engagement: Building a thriving business is not just about making sales; it's also about fostering meaningful connections. Through the Consultant Login portal, consultants can engage with fellow members of the Pink Zebra community, share experiences, and collaborate on strategies for success. Whether it's seeking advice from seasoned leaders or celebrating achievements with peers, the platform cultivates a sense of belonging and support.

Getting Started

Signing up for Pink Zebra Consultant Login is quick and easy. Consultants can register through the Pink Zebra website and gain instant access to a wealth of resources tailored to their needs. Once logged in, users can customize their profiles, explore training modules, place orders, and tap into the full range of features designed to facilitate business growth.

Conclusion

In the dynamic world of direct sales, having the right tools at your disposal can make all the difference. The Pink Zebra Consultant Login portal empowers consultants with the resources, insights, and support needed to thrive in their entrepreneurial endeavors. Whether you're passionate about home fragrance, interior décor, or simply eager to embark on a new business venture, Pink Zebra offers a unique opportunity to turn your dreams into reality. So log in, explore, and embark on your journey towards success with Pink Zebra today.

[yugsharmaa09]

How to Create a Professional Interior Design Studio

Welcome to our comprehensive guide on establishing a professional interior design studio. Whether you're a seasoned designer looking to venture into entrepreneurship or a newcomer with a passion for creating beautiful spaces, this blog will provide you with valuable insights and practical steps to turn your dream into a thriving reality.

Define Your Vision: Before diving into the logistics, take some time to clarify your vision for the interior design studio. What sets your studio apart from others? What is your design philosophy? Understanding your unique value proposition will not only guide your branding and marketing efforts but also attract the right clients who resonate with your style and approach.

Develop Your Brand Identity: Your brand identity is more than just a logo and color scheme; it encompasses the personality and values of your studio. Consider aspects such as your studio name, logo design, brand voice, and visual aesthetic. Consistency across all touchpoints, from your website to social media profiles, will help establish a strong and memorable brand presence.

Build Your Portfolio: A compelling portfolio is your calling card in the interior design industry. Showcase your best work, highlighting a diverse range of projects that demonstrate your expertise and versatility. Invest in professional photography to capture the essence of your designs effectively. Don't hesitate to include personal projects or concept designs to showcase your creativity and vision.

Establish Your Online Presence: In today's digital age, an online presence is non-negotiable for any business. Create a visually appealing website that reflects your brand identity and showcases your portfolio. Leverage social media platforms like Instagram, Pinterest, and Houzz to engage with potential clients and industry peers. Regularly update your online platforms with fresh content, including project updates, design tips, and behind-the-scenes glimpses.

Network Within the Industry: Networking is invaluable for growing your interior design studio. Attend industry events, trade shows, and networking mixers to connect with fellow designers, suppliers, and potential clients. Building relationships within the industry can lead to collaborative opportunities, referrals, and insider knowledge about upcoming projects.

Provide Exceptional Client Experience: Delivering an exceptional client experience is key to building a successful interior design studio. From the initial consultation to project completion, prioritize clear communication, transparency, and attentiveness to your clients' needs and preferences. Establishing trust and rapport with your clients will not only result in satisfied customers but also generate positive word-of-mouth referrals.

Invest in Continuing Education: The field of interior design is constantly evolving, with new trends, technologies, and materials emerging regularly. Stay ahead of the curve by investing in continuing education and professional development. Attend workshops, seminars, and industry conferences to expand your knowledge, refine your skills, and stay inspired.

Cultivate a Reliable Team: As your interior design studio grows, you may need to enlist the support of a reliable team to handle various aspects of the business, from project management to administrative tasks. Whether you hire full-time employees or collaborate with freelancers and contractors, ensure that everyone shares your studio's vision and commitment to excellenceConclusion: Establishing a professional interior design studio requires dedication, creativity, and strategic planning. By defining your vision, building a strong brand identity, showcasing your portfolio, and providing exceptional client experiences, you can set yourself apart in a competitive industry and turn your passion for design into a thriving business. Embrace the journey, stay adaptable, and never stop learning and growing. Your dream studio awaits!

[treeremovalpensacola]

Gachina Landscape Management finds a unique solution for challenging properties

If you're in the Pensacola area, then you have probably already experienced the need for having to remove a tree or stump or getting your tree's trimmed. The cost of tree removal varies depending on a few factors, such as: - The type of tree that needs to be removed - The size of the tree - The location of the tree - The condition of the tree Pensacola Tree Removal offers competitive pricing for our tree removal services. For a full list of services Tree removal services visit Tree removal service in Pensacola for a fast, friendly and reliable quote that you can count on. This will help not only beautify your property but also is the safest way to do it. Gachina Landscape Maintenance uses goats to help manage vegetation on properties with steep slopes. (Photo: Gachina Landscape Management) Vegetation management crews often face somewhat tough terrain. Gachina Landscape Management, No. 81 on the 2023 LM150 list, found a unique and sustainable way to manage properties — goats. These four-legged landscapers were the brainchild of Lauren Galanes, Gachina’s San Francisco branch manager. The company has deployed goats as part of a sustainable vegetative management strategy since 2018 on a large property in San Francisco. “At the time we were using chippers to remove a lot of the debris and excessive green waste on site, (and) there were complaints about noise and dust from employees,” Galanes says. Additionally, steep inclines posed safety concerns for the crew, and using equipment in the dry brush posed fire risks. Release the goats Gachina works with three Bay Area companies to deploy the four-legged vegetation management crews. Gachina and the companies work together to determine how big of a herd each property needs. The goat vegetation management companies and their herders work with the team from Gachina to fence off the area, bring in the goats and herd dogs, and move the goats around the property to ensure the herd effectively clears out all excess vegetation. “Goats are extremely adept at navigating steep terrain,” she says. “The sheer size of the campus also impacted how much physical labor we could get done with our crews daily, while goats move in large herds very quickly. They will eat a wide variety of plants (weeds, brush, grass and invasive plants), clearing overgrown areas (hillsides, forests and utility rights-of-way) and eating invasive weeds.�� Galanes also says the goats help add fire breaks — strips of land cleared of vegetation — to stop wildfires. Once the goats finish a portion of the property, Gachina’s crews overseed the area with native grasses and add pollinators, which thrive on the newly fertilized land — thanks to goat droppings. Happy clients Galanes says this approach to vegetation management fits well with clients who have strong sustainability initiatives. She says the feedback has been positive. “One of our clients really enjoys having the goats on campus — part of their goal as a company is to improve the quality of work life for their employees,” she says. “Having goats on campus is relaxing for the employees — uplifting during the work day. We have had them say ‘everybody loves your goats, having them here makes our people happier.’” Cristina Prevarin, plant health care and regenerative landscapes manager for Gachina, says the company also deploys barn owl nest boxes for small rodent control in a large HOA. For fellow landscape companies looking for alternative vegetation management, Prevarin says using goats is a viable option. “It’s much easier to coordinate than one may think,” she says. “The companies that we work with are professional, reliable and insured. Often clients are not aware that this is even an option. Many are happy to hear about this natural alternative.” The post Gachina Landscape Management finds a unique solution for challenging properties first appeared on Landscape Management.

[ilamarvandusenca]

Lamar Van Dusen: Leading with Passion and Mentorship

In the bustling city of Toronto, Ontario, amid the thriving business landscape, one individual stands out as a beacon of entrepreneurship and financial expertise. Meet Lamar Van Dusen, the Entrepreneur & Managing Director of Phoenix Management, an accounting and bookkeeping firm that is redefining the way businesses manage their finances. Lamar's remarkable journey from a motivated visionary to a guiding light for business owners and entrepreneurs is an inspiring testament to the power of passion and dedication.

The Visionary Beginnings

Lamar Van Dusen's story is one of relentless determination and a genuine love for business. From an early age, he exhibited an entrepreneurial spirit that set him on a path of discovery and innovation. His innate ability to envision opportunities where others saw challenges became the cornerstone of his career.

Empowering Entrepreneurs

Lamar's passion for business didn't stop at his own ventures. He embarked on a mission to help fellow entrepreneurs and business owners succeed. He recognized that many entrepreneurs faced hurdles in securing investments and managing their finances effectively. With this in mind, he founded Phoenix Management.

Phoenix Management: A Trusted Partner

Phoenix Management isn't your average accounting and bookkeeping firm. It's a full-service financial and accounting powerhouse that goes beyond numbers. Lamar's team at Phoenix Management understands the unique challenges that businesses face, and they are dedicated to providing tailored solutions that foster growth and prosperity.

The Flat-Fee Service Revolution

In recent times, Phoenix Management has garnered attention for its innovative approach to service delivery. They introduced flat-fee service programs, a concept that aligns perfectly with Lamar's commitment to simplicity and transparency. This forward-thinking strategy eliminates the ambiguity of hourly billing and ensures that clients know exactly what to expect, allowing them to budget with confidence.

Lamar Van Dusen: A Leader and Mentor

Lamar's journey from a motivated entrepreneur to a respected Managing Director has made him a mentor and role model for aspiring business leaders. He not only leads by example but also empowers his team at Phoenix Management to provide exceptional service to their clients. His dedication to helping others succeed is reflected in the success stories of the businesses he supports.

Join the Phoenix Management Family

For businesses in Toronto and beyond, Phoenix Management isn't just an accounting firm; it's a partner in their journey to success. Lamar Van Dusen's unwavering commitment to his vision and his clients has transformed Phoenix Management into a trusted name in the industry.

If you're seeking financial expertise, business guidance, and a partner who understands your dreams and challenges, Lamar Van Dusen and Phoenix Management are ready to welcome you into their family. Experience the difference of working with a firm that truly cares about your success.

In conclusion, Lamar Van Dusen's story is a testament to the power of passion, vision, and a dedication to helping others succeed. Through Phoenix Management, he continues to shape the business landscape in Toronto and beyond, one successful entrepreneur at a time.

[go-4-legal]

Top 5 Legal Firms in Nagpur: Providing Professional and Innovative Solution

Nagpur, the third-largest city in Maharashtra, has a bustling business environment with numerous legal services companies to cater to the needs of businesses and individuals. However, finding the best legal services company in Nagpur can be a daunting task, considering the number of options available. In this blog, we will take a look at some of the best legal services companies in Nagpur and what sets them apart.

Go 4 Legal

Go 4 Legal is a web-based legal service provider that offers a wide range of legal services to individuals and businesses in Nagpur. We are a one-stop shop for all your online legal needs, offering a wide range of services such as document preparation, contract review, and legal research. We provide our services at a fraction of the cost of traditional law firms, and we are committed to providing the highest quality of service to our clients. 

Go 4 Legal is India's leading legal platform that connects thousands of people with top-rated lawyers in their city and helps people to make better legal decisions by providing free legal advice.

G & K ASSOCIATES LAW FIRM

"G & K Associates is one of the leading, prominent, and fastest-growing law firms in Nagpur which provides legal consultation in the transfer of Properties, Due diligence, Revenue consultation, Drafting and Registration of various deeds, Contract drafting, Adjudication and Impounding of documents, Title Search Reports, Property Redevelopment, Firm, Company & Society formation, RERA registration along with revenue matters."

Charlewar Associates

"Charlewar Associates is a full-service law firm primarily focused on cases related to banking and finance and criminal law. Our associate represents clients in almost all parts of the country, right from District courts to Apex Court."

R.A. Daga & Co.

CS  R . A. Daga Is a founder promoter in the Company. She has immense knowledge and over 18 years of experience incorporating legal, secretarial, corporate structuring, foreign collaborations, and joint venture services. She has led compliance audits, secretarial audits of listed companies, due diligence assignments for acquisitions, and M&A also she manages national company law tribunal matters, the winding up of companies, etc., She is a Fellow member of the Institute of Company Secretaries of India (ICSI) and obtained Bachelor Degree in Commerce.

LegalFin Advisors

"We are a group of Professionals under one roof, providing all types of legal, finance, taxation, DSC, and licensing services. Professionals like CA, CS, CWA, Lawyers, Project financiers, Graphic Designers, and Business analysts all under one roof with the best services and flexible demands."

Conclusion

Choosing the right legal services company can be a challenging task, but with the above-listed companies, you can rest assured that your legal matters will be handled professionally and efficiently. These firms have a proven track record of providing quality legal services to their clients and have been recognized by various publications as top law firms in India.

[galaxyshuttle]

gowithplana​:

Optimus had been paid quite a sum by a favorite client to entertain a private party. Optimus was allowed to sell his services as he liked. So after getting his fee for not working the club he’d agreed. It had even been nice. They hadn’t asked him to strip.

Simply to look as pretty as the little truck could.

It had been a creation day party. The figure being celebrated had no life partner. Optimus had the fun of sitting on the Tank formers lap and complimenting him for the night. Its not the first time playing psuedo-date…

The Tank was sweet if a bit plain and gruff.

He’d keep his servos respectful though he’d done a lot of nuzzling. By the end of the night He’d picked up his last pay. As well as a tip from several guests, and from the creation day mech. Along with a community line and the potential promise of more work.

His only complaint? Now the walk to the transport services. Hugging his loose wrap tighter he’d managed to slog all the way through the cold and thickening snow. Only for a voice over helm. Stopping he cocks his helm back, fins twitching, then his helm cranes the other way for the sign. Groaning as he confirms the others words.

He shivers again. Stomping his pedes as he ducks under the the travel shelter.

“ Unfortunately driving home isn’t an option.” The downside of being able to unlock and de-couple the magnets and latches systems. Once it’s off Optimus is stuck in root mode. He couldn’t dress at the party. Hence hus use of the public transport for the evening.

“ I hope they fix it soon. It’s been a long evening.” Sure he’s full of fancy fuel. But emotionally catering to a room of lonely mechs was hard. Especially trying to make his client feel like Optimus wasn’t giving him enough attention, while also charming the guests. Thank frag he hadn’t had to dance.

He circles a few times. Sweeping away a little bit of snow drift. Then slowly settles to sit.

“ Did they post how long it might be?”

Deepspace looked quite comfortable in the transport shelter, having found himself an isolated corner should anyone else caught out by the storm, but still giving him a constant view of the travel delays. 

“I can see that. Fancy dress, or courting the wildlife of the Crystal City Zoo?” The shuttle rumbles, nodding at the variety of feathery fronds and glittering crystal swathes adorning the little mech. He doubted it was the latter. Get up like that, and you were either party of the ritzy upper circle of society, or rubbed elbows with one of their elite. Not that he really minded. He was a simple fellow. He had an alt mode that allowed him to cater to transportation and logistics, so why not lean on that for a profit? All his little side hustles were just extra shanix.

Watching the little mech circle, tiny pede scooting himself a little area clear of snow, and the mech looks like a feathery flower down there.

“Nope. Been here nearly an hour. Was tempted to take off despite the no fly order, but figured unlike being ground bound, if something hits me in the air, it will be a much bigger problem for them than me, so I’ll wait it out for safety sake” Sure, it was like being handed a bath tub, but he’s offering the little mech some of the heated energon if they want some. Might make them backfire a few times given how concentrated shuttle grade energon is, but it will certainly keep their engine warm.

“So, what’s your designation, Lil Bird?”

[raisinghellonstarbug]

Stumbled Into Laughter, Stumbled Into You - A James Acaster x Reader Story

Basic plot: The year is 2019, and life has been quite dull for you since working in a job that you hate for the past two years after graduating from university. You used to do stand up comedy at uni, but you’ve been putting off pursuing it due to lack of confidence and motivation. Your best mates decide to encourage you to try a comedy mic night for the first time ever and while there you incidentally run into an old mate of yours, comedian Rhys James. That’s when your life gets turned around as you end up diving into the world of the comedy circuit and becoming close with other famous British comedians. In the midst of it all, you end up meeting a particularly distinctive red headed fellow who might end up being the very thing that brings meaning to your life again.

*

A/N: Hello Acaster fans!

So this was an idea I have had in mind for the last few months and I finally finished the first chapter of my story!

Just so you know, the first chapter does not include James, but be patient as he will appear soon (but maybe not quite as soon as you hope). I do reckon it will be worth the wait for his appearance, or at least I hope the story is still enjoyable! It is a slow burn so if you are an inpatient person, then this story might not be for you ;)

You can read this chapter below or if you prefer, there is also the link to the chapter posted on Ao3 right here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33748507

-

Rating: M

Chapter 1 word length: 2326

Characters: James Acaster (duh), Original Female Characters(s), Original Male Character(s), Rhys James, Ed Gamble, Nish Kumar, Josh Widdicombe

Relationships: James Acaster x Reader/you, Original female character/Original Male character

Story tags: Romantic comedy, domestic fluff, slow burn, fluff and smut, British comedy, eventual relationships

Tagging: @laurabeech @rilannon @jasclearwaters @marklily @queensantiagoofthe99

Chapter 1 - Summer 2019

You were sitting at your desk at your mundane job, practically ready to blow your brains out on the usual, dull Thursday afternoon. It was really warm and stuffy inside the fifteen story office block building situated in Canary Wharf. This was a place you found yourself five days a week, doing the typical 9 to 5 hours. A usual day for a usual person.

Your job wasn’t a particularly riveting one. As an underwriter for an insurance company, some days could get especially boring. You knew how to do the job well, but it was not something you really loved. It involved all kinds of clients and claims in paperwork and it sometimes felt tedious and unfulfilling. But hey, it still paid your share of rent and bills. At least you could say you could manage in the hustle and bustle of the London lifestyle.

It was nearly hometime and you were itching to get home and relax. But before that could happen, there were those last set of insurance cover forms you had to copy to get sent to the HR department. And so you typed away on your laptop, clickety clack, clickety clack… the minutes went by like a chalk on a blackboard, scraping away at a snail’s pace.

You put your full force of concentration on the documents on the screen until it was finally done. A sense of achievement was necessary in these moments despite your lack of enthusiasm. It was in the little victories you reminded yourself. You rubbed the sweat from the July heat off your forehead.

* * *

The last 2 hours eventually passed by and it was soon the rush to get out of the door before you got held up by your colleagues. They were nice enough, but sometimes they could hold you back for half an hour chatting when you just wanted to get home, or your manager might try and get you to stay an hour overtime.

Thankfully you did get out promptly, and as you ran and dashed out of the office building saying brisk goodbyes to coworkers, you managed to make it to the tube with the train just arriving on time. But not without being moderately sweaty and hot though. Bloody stuffy platforms.

As expected it was still a busy train with plenty of 5pm finishers getting themselves situated on the half crowded carriages, but as it was only 10 past, it wasn't the worst time of day for commuting yet.

You perched yourself on one of the tube’s seats and let your shoulders drop, having held the tension in your body from sitting at a desk all day. You placed your head slightly back, balancing it on the window of the train. You looked up momentarily above you and then lifted your head back up to look at your phone and choose a song to listen to on Spotify through your wireless earphones.

The streams of sound from one of your favourite songs began to play softly in your ears and you smiled, knowing that the song gave you a little bit of wistful joy. You started mouthing the words.

Call it all for nothing, but I'd rather be nothing to you. Than be a part of something, something that I didn’t do (Best to You - Blood Orange).

The words half mean something but not necessarily anything. You began to wonder about being part of something that you’re not.

I just wish I could float away from my unexciting existence… you thought to yourself.

It sometimes occurred to you that you might have wanted something more out of life, but weren’t entirely sure what. It doesn’t make you dreadfully sad, but you know that life for you hasn’t exactly been the best it could be, and that perhaps something was missing. You wish you knew what it was.

You sighed, ignoring the feeling of sorrow wash over you momentarily and propped yourself back up in the uncomfortable seat of the train. You tried to keep yourself awake so that you wouldn’t miss your stop. The music continued through your ears.

* * *

You opened the door of the three bedroom flat that you had been residing in for the last two years with your flatmates and sighed with relief that you had finally reached home. You hurried to get your handbag off your shoulder and your shoes off, placing them on the rack next to the front door and walked through the hallway.

The minute you poked your head through to the lounge, bellowing a faint hello to whoever was around, you were suddenly greeted by one of your best friends and flatmates, Grace.

“Ahh Y/n! You’re home. Thank christ!”

She grabbed you and reached her arms around to embrace you tightly. You were perplexed by this gesture as it was so random and unusual given that Grace lived with you and saw you everyday of the week. You frowned and reluctantly placed your arms around her to return the hug.

As she then let go, she looked at you with urgency in her eyes and shrieked with excitement, “Oh Y/n guess what? It looks like I’m up for a promotion! Can you believe it?”

Now processing the reason for such an embrace, you raised your eyebrows in glee and smiled proudly, gushing back to your best mate who was obviously chuffed by the matter.

“Oh wow Grace, that's fantastic! I mean, finally. It is about bloody time!”

She smiled, “Yes I guess it is. But I mustn't get too excited. I haven’t officially got the promotion yet.”

“Ah but no. I’m not having any of that. You will get that promotion. It is a guarantee. They would be idiots to not give it to you.” Grace rolled her eyes and bit her lip. She reluctantly nodded and agreed.

The smell of food distracted you momentarily from the conversation. It was a particularly appetising smell.

Grace uttered, “Yes that smell is good isn’t it? Theo insisted on cooking us a nice meal for me as a celebration.”

You smiled knowingly, having known about how Grace and Theo had been in relationship limbo ever since you three became close friends at university. You knew they both had feelings for each other but often danced around the subject, completely oblivious to one another’s obvious attraction to the other. You reckoned they had to do something about it one day.

“Thank fuck. I wasn’t prepared to make dinner tonight. I am too tired for that.”

Grace then had her worried face on. She instantly knew, as she knew you too well, but funnily enough never picked up on Theo’s emotions despite constantly wondering about them, that something was wrong.

“Are you ok babe?” she asked with a look of pity that you scornfully resented.

You sighed, half lying, “Yes. I’m fine. Just tired is all.”

You made a beeline for the couch knowing full well that you were going to talk about it whether you liked it or not. You knew that Grace would see right through your dishonesty and insist that you told her the problem.

So you waited until Grace inevitably sat next to you and gave you that sympathy look she always gave you before coming out with the concerns that were floating around your brain.

“OK fine. I know you won’t leave me alone unless I tell you.”

“Ahh, you know me so well…”

“Yes, just as you know me. I’m just- I’m fed up. Work was slow. I don’t really feel like I’m associated with my life. I feel... disconnected, I guess.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

You shrugged and looked down at the floor and then back at Grace smiling sheepishly, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not- not fulfilled? I just don’t thoroughly enjoy my life right now.”

Grace nodded and put a hand on your leg. You twitched your face in slight discomfort. You hated it when you were given sympathy for something that seemed so miniscule. It wasn’t like you were dying.

It was times like this when you just wanted to curl up in your bed, eat a tub of ice cream and watch your favourite comedy programmes. 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown sprang to mind.

As you sat in momentary silence for a bit, Theo came waltzing through from the kitchen with his silly apron on that had a naked man’s body printed on it, and a spatula in his hand. He smiled at you.

“I thought I heard your voice. I hope meatballs for dinner are good tonight. Not mine of course,” gesturing to the apron as he said it.

You shook your head at Theo’s poor dad joke and stood up to hug him. You realised that you must be really down in the dumps to be hugging Theo. It was his turn to be confused. He looked towards Grace wide eyed.

“She’s had a particularly tough day. But mind you babe, you’ve kinda been like this for weeks now.”

You let go of Theo and turned to Grace, frowning and feeling slightly defensive. You placed a hand on your hip.

“Been like what? I’ve just been a bit fed up, that's all.”

“Yes but it’s not just a bit fed up. You said so yourself you feel disconnected. We’ve been waiting for you to say it.”

You looked to Theo and he nodded gently in agreement.

“Ok… but, nothing is really wrong exactly. My life is fine.”

“Fine, yes. But not amazing. We know it’s getting you down. And the job is the problem.”

“But I’m good at it. And it pays the bills. What else am I supposed to do?”

Grace then looked away from your eyes then, twitching her lip and looking as though she was holding something back. She then sighed and began to admit something you had not been expecting.

“OK look. We know what you can do. Theo and I have figured it out. We can manage money wise. It will be tight, but if you quit your job we should be able to help you out for a little bit.”

Your eyes grew wider than large saucepans. You were totally bewildered and your mouth slightly agape.

“What? Quit my job? Why? What work would I get instead?”

“Well, maybe you won't quit your job yet. Maybe you’re right, that's too hasty. Perhaps what I’m trying to say is-”

Theo then chimed in, “-what Grace is trying to say is…”

You smirked to yourself. How do they not realise that they’re already a couple but without the sex? They’re practically married for christ sake.

“...we reckon that you need to pursue your passion. Perhaps stop wasting your talents in an office job that you hate.”

Grace continued, “yes exactly. We have had an idea in mind. See, we want you to go to this thing… it’s no biggie but well, we’ve already booked it for you.”

Your mind was racing. You couldn’t understand anything that they were saying to you. It was all too much for you to manage.

“Booked what for me? What the hell are you both going on about?”

They both looked at each other with reluctance, pondering the moment and whether to tell you the whole truth. They both shrugged and Grace was then pulling her phone out, this whole conversation beginning to appear as though they had been trying to practice it.

Suddenly Grace’s phone screen was wavering in your face. You moved your head closer to see a photo on the screen. It was a comedy club night poster. Incidentally, it was an open mic night event happening on Saturday night. You began to then put the puzzle pieces together. You folded your arms and frowned heavily.

“What the fuck have you two done now?”

Theo softly spoke, “We… booked you a slot to do that comedy open mic event thing, on Saturday night.”

“Wait. As in to perform? You can’t be serious-”

Grace tried to reassure you and grabbed your arm.

“Look, we know it might seem daunting, but we just wanted to see you happy again. It’s been two years since we graduated and you haven’t performed since then. We thought it might be good to encourage you to perform again. You were always funny to us. And people at uni thought so too. You have the stand up talent, Y/n.”

You could not process anymore. You shook your head in disbelief and placed your head in your hands, rubbing your eyes from sudden exhaustion. You then threw your hands up in exasperation. It was not possible. You could not do that again.

Fucking no way. I can’t be on stage again! It’s too scary. University pub nights are one thing but a comedy club?

You shook your head again and placed your hands on your hips. Grace tried to speak up again seeing the frustration painted across your face. In fact it was anger that your friends chose to do this without your say so.

“Y/n…”

“No. Nope. I’m not doing it. No.”

“But Y/n, we were also going to tell you that Theo is also thinking of doing the same thing! He wants to do his music again. What harm would it be for you to rejuvenate your comedy skills? Surely you can write a quick couple of gags. Nothing strenuous. You have your old material from university, right?”

You had to get out of the room. Nothing that they were saying to you could be fully accepted at that moment.

You then gave them no choice but to let you go with your head in a flurry. They both watched you leave the room, mumbling something along the lines of I’m not really hungry anymore, I’m going to bed. Soon after, you darted across the other end of the hallway, ill-tempered and almost seething, and slammed your bedroom door shut.

[luvnami]

𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 (here) | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - Second part to ‘Ocean’! Hope you enjoy it :> Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife​ @amjustagirl​ @aliteama​

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares, Relationship Issues (lack of communication), Overthinking/Anxious Thoughts, I criticise Nanami’s choice of clothing

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -  Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He  (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of  what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made  it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time. 

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5k

Nanami decides to enter university and get a degree. He casts a life of sorcery behind and turns a blind eye to curses that peer at him curiously on the street. When you text him and ask about how life is in the city of Tokyo, he replies that it would be much better if you were here with him. You choose to ignore the meaning between the lines and tell him that he’ll do great in university; you’re sure of it!

Truth be told, his parents are more than glad to fund Nanami’s ventures and encourage him to do so. As a result, he finds himself engulfed by the world of rigorous studying. Lectures and tutorials drain his time from morning to evening, not to forget project meetings and whatever the hell ‘socialising’ means.

But campus life is invigorating. He wakes up to the smell of coffee and his roommate singing a foreign song with a catchy tune and has time to enjoy a lovely breakfast before he heads off for morning classes. Everything is done in his own time. No one rushes him to save the lives of innocent civilians, nor does the weariness of a day’s fight linger in his bones.

Quietly, gently. That is how Nanami’s time in university goes by. Writing essays on analysing market trends or a project on that sociology elective module he chose is nothing too tricky, especially when one compares it to sorcery. 

He learns to relax, unwinding in the golden hours of the evening with a Murakami paperback and a steaming cup of coffee by his side. Nanami meets new people — people who have never heard what a curse is (though he does find his witchy neighbour intriguing), people who have families at the furthest ends of the earth. Their companionship is refreshing.

You, meanwhile, earn a nice sum from working at Jujutsu Tech. You don’t work directly with curses (something which Nanami is thankful for) and enjoy your time surrounded by nature, treating the younger students with a smile and warm cup of tea. 

You and Nanami decide to move into an apartment where the commute is halfway between both schools. It’s a nice change of pace, really. You wake up next to each other in the blinding morning light, still entangled in the cheap (and slightly scratchy) duvet you got on sale. Nanami presses a kiss between your brows. You smile, your hand warm on his skin. 

“Good morning, Ken,” you croak as the sunlight frames your face.

You lean forward and place your head against his chest. Nanami’s hand strokes your shoulder lovingly as the both of you make small talk on the day’s events, then laughing when he makes a cheesy (and slightly indecent) joke about what he enjoys eating for breakfast. Your heart soars in your chest, catching the upwind and slicing through the clouds. It feels like heaven.

But the sea does not always remain calm and peaceful. Its tides rise and fall with the waxing and waning of the moon, and waves can come crashing down on boats that dare sail through its treacherous waters. 

Nanami buries the constant nightmares of Haibara under his pillow, waking up in the middle of the night with your arms around his waist. He pretends he does not see the curses that linger in the corner of his lecture theatre, nor the ones that stare back in the bathrooms. Nanami slips a pair of spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. His fellow classmates call him intelligent, quiet, but kind. 

He wants to believe that, too.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami joins a hedge fund company after graduation. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Ken?” you ask over the table.

The restaurant you had booked for dinner boasts of its month-long waitlists and seasonal menus. You poke at the raw fish that sits on your plate, Nanami holding a glass of amber liquid. He watches its colour swirl under the dim light.

“The pay is good. We’ll be comfortable.”

“I don’t care about money, Ken. I’d rather you do something less stressful and be happier.”

“Let me try it out for a year or so. That can’t hurt, right?”

He smiles, you smile. 

Your hand slips into his comfortably over the table, and your eyes meet in silent understanding. You squeeze his hand.

The company changes Nanami. Some things are obvious — the way he now parts and combs his hair back with wax, the pressed suits that line your shared wardrobe, the work phone that buzzes with notifications every minute of the day. Others are more… subtle. He comes home later and later each night, occasionally staying over in the office. His alcohol consumption increases. You spend the weekends alone. 

It’s gotten to the point where you’re lucky if you eat dinner with him once a week. You’re busy with your own work, too, but you assume that Nanami would be able to come home on at least the weekends. Your mind begins to drift.

Is there a colleague who wears a skirt too short, a manager who touches his shoulder a second too long? It’s been at least four years since you and Nanami had gotten together, and you still don’t know his stance on marriage or children yet. Does he love you, or does he love his job more? 

You fall into a pit of doubt and despair. Perhaps you should have been a lesser burden on Nanami. He spent so many hours taking care of you back then, wearing himself thin between missions, that the idea of him getting tired of being a caregiver to someone who didn’t remember him at all was… possible; reality, even?

There’s nothing original about you, either. Your handwriting is the same as a girl you’ll never remember from middle school, the way you text influenced by the students you work with. Maybe you laugh too loud. Or you’re too fat, too skinny, too quiet, too noisy, too blunt, too shy, too clumsy. So what made him love you? Or was he just in love with a previous version of you that you weren’t now?

It feels like you’re staring into a mirror when you try to remember who you used to be with childhood journals and photographs. The same face, the same body, memories that don’t make sense and a head that has become a blank canvas. A parent’s child, a teacher’s student. Unable to reach past the glass.

You don’t know who you are anymore with how you’ve changed to please Nanami — a person of personalities that switches in the blink of an eye. So why does he still keep you in his rented heart that’s full of other tenants, and under the contact name ‘Dear ♡’? You place the button in a drawer amongst a mess of spare keys, bits of tissue paper and promotional pamphlets. 

It’s tiring. Nanami’s head is in the clouds as you share a parfait, and you ask him, “Kento, do you really love me?”.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Of course I do.”

The eyebags that are on his face have been there since two weeks ago. Nanami can’t remember when the last time was when he got a proper night of sleep, and currently, he’s thinking about the new client that-

“Kento,” you interrupt. “You’re exhausted.”

You point your spoon at him for extra emphasis, the tip of it having a dollop of whipped cream. 

“Pointing your utensils around is bad manners.”

“Never knew you cared about table manners.”

“Well, now I do.”

You lick the spoon clean and eye Nanami. He returns a tired stare before his gaze falls to the side and he lets out a sigh. He almost wishes that you would stop bothering him about this and let him go back home. There are so many emails he needs to send, and he can’t sit still without checking the stock market every hour or so. 

“Do you want to break up?”

The words come easier than expected.

“Huh?! What makes you say that?”

“You seem like you want to.”

“You can’t just assume things like-”

The girls sitting by the next table fall quiet. Nanami thinks that they’re eavesdropping on your conversation; you think so too. You glance quickly at them and they pretend nothing had ever happened, hiding their looks of surprise as they shove spoonfuls of dessert into their mouths.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

You sound irritated. Nanami pays with his card, grabbing his things as you step outside of the cafe first. 

“Slow down,” he mumbles and pockets his wallet. 

You whip around.

“You can’t just assume things like that, Kento.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

Staring at him, your eyes seem glazed over. Tired, maybe. Tearing up, maybe. Maybe, maybe. Many maybes. Nanami doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what���s been going on with you, actually. You seem distant, out of reach when you’re lying in the same bed as him. Is it the money; is he making enough to make you happy?

Nanami reaches out and tries to hold your hand (when was the last time he had done that?) when his phone buzzes. He retracts his hand and reaches for his back pocket, but you grab his wrist. He looks at you.

“What are you doing? Let go.”

Irritation laces his voice. 

“Don’t answer that.”

“Are you crazy? It’s from work. I have to.”

“Work this, work that! You spent the last year basically married to your office and the one time we get to go out together, you want to work?”

Your voice is sharp, slicing Nanami’s hazy conscience. He watches as it pools at his feet, a gust of fresh air tickling his skin. He relaxes his wrist and you pull your hand away. Passersby glance at you briefly before continuing their daily commute, not bothering to give you a second glance.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s okay,” Nanami replies. 

The both of you stand in the street, suddenly feeling as if you’ve drifted away from one other unknowingly. Like a boat in the ocean, Nanami rocks with the waves that splash gently on his hull. Everything is blue and vast around him. He can’t see the land. 

Nanami thinks about that girl at the bakery. The way she always cried out ‘Come back soon!’ every time he left as if he wouldn’t return a second time. And then he thinks about the clients he serves, all outfits and jewellery that easily cost half his salary. They shove money into his hands, expecting even more in return without a word of thanks. 

“Hey,” Nanami says. 

He reaches out across the waters and grasps your hand in his. You look up, eyes brimming with tears. He swipes at the corner of your eye with his thumb. Understanding washes over him and he takes a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” Nanami whispers sincerely.

That night, he calls Gojo when you’re safely tucked into bed. Nanami tries to ignore how the older sorcerer cackles at him and hangs up once the call is presumably over on his end. He slips under the covers as you turn over in your sleep, resting against his chest. Nanami kisses your brow. 

He gets his first night of good sleep in a long, long time. 

☆*: .｡.

Nanami falls back into the rhythm of sorcery. He trains for a good month until he gets his stamina and strength back, obtaining a new weapon from the school for his missions. Gojo seems oddly delighted to see him return, laughing when Nanami’s out of breath from a workout.

“Ken,” you say, wrinkling your nose when he steps out of your shared bedroom. “You’re going to work in that?” 

Nanami adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, staring at you. 

“Is this not appropriate?”

You observe him from head to toe. The leopard print tie, blue shirt and tan suit — you resist the urge to tell him he’s so close to looking like a pimp. Out of all the lovely suits that Nanami has, he chooses to wear this one?

“It’s a bit bright, that’s all,” you laugh. 

“I thought I would go with something eccentric. You don’t get to wear this at the office,” he remarks, striding over to the kitchen to grab your packed lunches. 

You remain quiet and fiddle with a loose thread on your own suit jacket. 

“Something the matter?”

“Oh! Nothing at all. Let’s go.”

It’s more convenient now since the both of you work at the same place. Nanami drives to Jujutsu Tech every morning and picks you up in the evenings as well. He detests how Gojo makes fun of him for it, calling him a ‘lovely husband’. It makes your cheeks warm, and you duck your head before Nanami can ask you anything about it.

Peace reigns true for a few months. The morning routine is a nice change of pace compared to Nanami’s previous job. You’re able to spend more time together, even to the point of going grocery shopping or watching a movie with takeout on Friday nights.

Nanami relaxes only a little. Compared to office work, this is probably just as bad. First of all, he has to see Gojo almost every day and have him talk his ear off. Secondly, he returns to being the balance between life and death for civilians once more. It’s not a task he enjoys. However, he harbours that the thanks he receives and the lives he saves are a good enough exchange. 

Years come and go, as do students of Jujutsu Tech. Nanami sees more dead sorcerers and exorcises more curses. You quietly type away at a laptop, filing their deaths and completing any tasks you’re given from the higher-ups. It seems that life has slowed down once more and you return to a monotonous pace. 

You wonder if your relationship with Nanami will progress any further. It’s been close to nine years and yet… nothing has developed beyond living together or the odd weekend date. That’s not to say that you don’t love Nanami. You do, honestly. He treats you well and listens to your occasional nagging to put his stacks of books away, but you want something more. You crave the thought of getting married, to be lawfully his and maybe start a family. But, contrary to belief, Nanami isn’t opposed to it when you bring the topic up over dinner one night.

“Marriage?” 

His chopsticks pick off a portion of grilled salmon and he brings it to his mouth with some rice. He chews, swallowing.

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been together for so long, you know? So it kind of seems natural for us to do so.”

Your gut twists nervously. The steam from your miso soup rises silently in the air, wisps of white smeared out at the edges. 

“Sure.”

“Huh?”

“Sure, let’s get married.” Nanami says.

You have to physically close your mouth and your eyes are widened in shock. Your heartbeat accelerates that much faster.

“Are you serious?”

“Well, were you serious when you asked me that question?”

Heat rises to your face. 

“As you said, we’ve been together and living under the same roof for quite some time. Marriage seems like a plausible idea.”

“Then let’s-!”

“But I have one condition.”

Momentarily, your heart wavers. Nanami finishes the last drop of miso soup in his bowl and balances his chopsticks on top of the porcelain. As usual, his plate and bowls are scraped clean. 

“I’ll only get married after I stop being a sorcerer.”

Your face twists in confusion as you try to understand where Nanami is coming from. You don’t get it — didn’t being a sorcerer mean that Nanami faced death everyday and that he should be taking advantage of what time he has left? But, of course, you don’t mean to curse him into an early grave like that. Except… Except that your face visibly falls and Nanami takes notice of it.

“I’d rather not have my life entangled with curses more than it should be. Once we both earn enough money and have a nice savings account, we can retire and go do whatever we want. Besides, I’ll invest. It’ll be more than enough.”

You remain silent and stare at your half-finished dinner. Nanami reaches over the table and takes your hand in his. 

“Can you give me some more time, please?”

You don’t reply. 

☆*: .｡.

“Did you hear about the new first years?”

“Mm. The one who died, right?”

“Gojo wants me to mentor him for a while.”

Nanami’s hands are positioned on the steering perfectly. His palms guide the car carefully through the steep roads that climb up to Jujutsu Tech. You flip through a checklist of things you need to do for the day.

“Will you be heading out of school?”

“Probably. There’s a scene I need to check out.”

“Stay safe, alright?”

“Of course. You too, don’t forget to have your lunch again.”

Nanami pulls into the parking lot of the school. Leaning over the clutch, he presses a kiss to your hairline. You gently peck his jaw.

“See you tonight. I might not be able to pick you up, so get Nitta to drive you.”

“See you, Ken.”

Nanami watches as you open the car door and step out. You turn back, giving him a wave and smile through the window. He returns the gesture. Once you’re out of sight, Nanami pulls out his phone as he sits in the car. He thumbs through his emails and his Adam’s apple bobs as soon as he sees the confirmation sent to him. A loose sigh worms its way out of his chest. He pushes the door open and steps out. 

The rest of the day is spent teaching Itadori Yuuji about the sanctity of being young and simpleminded. Sorcery isn’t child’s play — especially when there are lives involved. He watches as Itadori’s face crumbles at the mention of the transfigured humans. He wants to comfort him, place a hand on his shoulder and tell him that it isn’t his fault.  

They have a quick debrief of the situation with Ijichi before parting ways. Nanami shoulders his burden once more, watching as the car pulls away in the direction of Yoshino’s home. 

As night falls, Nitta drives you home. She’s chatty, serious about her job and does it well. You smile when she gushes about how lovely Nanami must be at home, and, oh! Do tell him to lighten up at work. 

You thank her when she drops you off. As you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex, you make a routine stop by the mailboxes. Junk, bills and… a box? You flip it over to see who it’s addressed to; perhaps Nanami had ordered something online. However, your name is printed neatly across the label.

The first thing you do when you get home is to open the box. It’s small, probably not more than a hand’s breadth in length. Your pen knife slices through the tape cleanly and when you push aside the flaps, you spot two velvet boxes sitting in a mess of paper filler. Your fingers tremble when you pull one of them out and open it. 

A silver ring sits in the furrow of a cushion with Nanami’s name on the inside. Your heart skips a beat and you reach into the cardboard to pull out the second ring box. This one is a little larger, with your name engraved on the interior side of the band. It must be Nanami’s, then.

It’s already well past 6p.m. as you dial his number with your lower lip between your teeth. You pace around the house, bouncing on the balls of your feet. What were these meant to be? Promise rings? Engagement rings? You hadn’t dared to slip the one with Nanami’s name engraved onto your finger just yet.

“Hello?” 

Nanami’s breathing is laboured. Your heart falls and you stop in the middle of your living room, staring ahead at nothing.

“Ken? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… just a little hurt. It’s nothing serious.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve called Ijichi to pick me up, don’t-”

“So it is serious, then!” you cry out in horror. 

“No, no. I said I’m fine. Look, did you receive the rings yet?”

“I did, but that’s not the point now. Are you safe?”

“I-”

You hear Nanami’s phone clatter to the ground and the thump of his body on the floor. 

“Kento?” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply. 

☆*: .｡.

You’re seated on the floor of your shared home, an oversized pajama shirt stolen from Nanami’s closet swallowing you. Sunlight pours in through an open window at two in the afternoon and the quiet hum of vehicles outside can be vaguely heard.

Clip, clip, clip.

One hand holds a nail clipper, while the other cradles Nanami’s fingers gently. The blond watches you absentmindedly while you trim his nails. He had insisted he was perfectly capable of doing them on his own, but the glare you gave him made Nanami sink back into the sofa. 

He was hurt after a fight with Mahito — the wound on his side made him grimace whenever he stood up, and Nanami found himself relying on you more than he wished to. Thankfully, he had passed out from blood loss and pain but nothing too devastating had happened. That didn’t change how concerned you were about him, though. You try to forget how you had hailed a taxi just to rush back to Jujutsu Tech to see Nanami lying in the sickbay with a blood drenched shirt. 

Nanami thinks it’s childish. When was the last time someone had clipped his nails for him? Was it his mother? A warm breeze wrings itself through the window. You run the pad of your finger over the cut edge, feeling for any sharp portions. 

Nanami stares at the top of your head. Your fingers feel uncharacteristically soft against his own calloused ones — wielding a weapon in battle wore his palms down at the end of the day. He doesn’t particularly want to admit he likes it.

Nanami is a man of truth. He hates lying, and definitely doesn’t tolerate beating around the bush. But if he spoke as he thought, told you everything he felt about you as often as it came like the wind, how would you react? He clutches his heart in the aching hand of a budding teenager, the fears of facing a cruel world fresh in his mind. 

Being a sorcerer means facing death on a daily basis, especially with the increase in curses with modern times. It doesn’t help that with both of you on the field, it means double the chances. Sorcerers never die without regrets.

Nanami wishes he could love you more, let you explore each crevice of his heart without fear of leaving you; being left behind one day. He doesn’t want to curse you if he dies. He doesn’t want to become a burden to you any more than he should be. 

Clip, clip, clip.

“Is it too short?” 

You glance up briefly at Nanami and brush the hair out of your eyes. He stares down at his fingers and feels them over with his thumb. He shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.”

You nod and move on to his next hand. You’re systematical about it — trimming off most of the grown parts in three portions, then a couple tinier clips to finish the job off. A nail file sits on the ground beside you, the tiles of the floor cool against your bare legs.

“Hey, Ken?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard that there’s a new bakery opposite that popular department store. I was thinking of going to take a look later. Do you want me to get anything for you?”

“Nothing too sweet would be nice.”

“Okay.”

The living room falls back into a comfortable silence.

Clip, clip, clip.

☆*: .｡.

It takes a few more weeks before Nanami is cleared by Ieri to return to regular sorcery work. He tries to rest in the downtime he has, he really does — but the itch to get up and finish Mahito off has him restless. 

At this, Gojo sends Nanami and you off to Hamamatsu on another curse investigation for a change of scenery. Gojo doesn’t want to admit it, but he had mumbled to you something about taking care of Nanami’s mental health. Maybe the beach would help? You told him he sounded like a doctor from the 20th century. You’re not one to refuse a free trip outside of Tokyo, though, so you and Nanami pack your luggage and troop off to Hamamatsu on the Shinkansen. 

“Thank you.”

Nanami’s fingers curl around the ice cream cone handed to him, the sun scorching his back. It’s too hot for this; for anything, really. He makes a mental note to give Gojo a good stare of disapproval once he returns to school. 

Why did the mission have to be on the warmest day of the year? With how the heatwave makes perspiration trickle down your back, though, the dangers of facing a possible special grade curse is the least of your worries right now.

“It’s so hot!” 

You eagerly lap at the soft serve, savouring the cold, sweet treat. Nanami wanted to take a photo of the ice cream, but- oh well, you’ve begun eating, and the horrendous heat would have probably melted it before he found a good angle, anyways. 

Protected by the shade of a shopping district, Nanami and you had agreed to find refuge for a few hours — the curse could wait till the sun began to set. Besides, it would be more likely to turn up after dark. 

“How does yours taste, Ken?” you ask and peer over at his cone.

He had gotten a cookies and cream flavoured one, despite how you egged him on to try out the local eel flavour. Nanami was not going to ruin his taste buds just like that, thank you very much.

“It’s alright,” he says, licking traces of ice cream off of his lips. “Could do with a little more cookie.”

“Wanna try mine?” 

You stick your cone into Nanami’s face. He’s greeted with your half-eaten soft serve, where your tongue has made a path of its own against the original swirl. He eyes you carefully and you offer the cone to him once more.

“That’s unhygienic.”

“Oh, come on, Ken! We’ve kissed before, sharing saliva on ice cream is nothing compared to that.”

Heat rushes to his face, though Nanami assumes a composed facade. He blames it on the weather without hesitation. Not wanting you to tease him anymore, he leans forward and nips a tiny portion of your ice cream off of the tip. 

“Yummy, isn’t it?”

“Mmm.”

“Want to try mine too?” 

The words leave his lips on reflex. Nanami wonders when he’s begun letting you try his food — when he used to be so adamant that no one could even touch its container or look in its direction (thanks to Gojo’s greedy fingers). You nod excitedly and lick off of a portion. 

“It’s good!” 

What was the first time he had said it to you? Over oden in the winter; over those disgustingly sweet slurpees you insisted on from 7 11? All those small moments that had built up culminated in Nanami’s affection and understanding towards you. The way in which you offer him a bite of your food without expecting anything in return; is that what love is like? 

“You’ve got some ice cream on your face,” Nanami says.

You instinctively use your tongue and try to clean it off. “Did I get it?”

Nanami shakes his head. “It’s on this side,” he replies, pointing a spot on his own face.

You try again, to no avail. Nanami sighs.

“What would you do without me?” he asks monotonously, using the pad of his thumb to wipe it off.

You stand there, frozen for a second when he leans in. His promise ring is cold against your cheek.

“Kento?” you whisper. 

Under the light of the shining sun, he presses his lips to yours, shielding you from warm rays and the glances of passersby with his back. You let out a muffled sound of surprise as you taste cookies and cream, your eyes fluttering shut instinctively. 

Nanami isn’t a fan of public affection. God forbid Gojo see him kissing you, really. But as he leans back and watches your half-lidded eyes stare up at him, he asks himself if you’ve ever received his own sort of love in return. 

A relationship’s all about give and take; but has he given as much as he should have? Has Nanami loved you in a way that matters? Life is a fleeting concept to all sorcerers. Should he die and leave you behind, Nanami wonders if he would pass without any regrets. Did he do enough when he tugged the covers over your shoulders when you fell asleep on the sofa, was there more he could have done even after buying you that watch you had eyeballed for the past few months?

There’s that sort of incompetence that curls up in his chest on sleepless nights, even with you tucked into his side. It makes his head spin and his heart fall into a bottomless pit. With all the eyes of juniors and students that look up to him, Nanami can’t help but wonder if he’s truly as good as everyone thinks he is. Being a sorcerer holds little problem. But what about a lover, a husband?

He couldn’t save Haibara, so how dare he think about…

“Kento,” you swallow. “Ken?”

Nanami snaps out of his daze. “Huh?”

“I dropped my ice cream,” you whisper. 

He swivels his head and spots your cone face down on the sidewalk. His own cone drips down his hand, the melting liquid staining the sleeve of his suit. For once, Nanami’s mind runs blank. 

“Kento? Are you okay?” you ask gently.

“Hey,” he murmurs. 

“Mm?”

Nanami’s careful to avoid the pool of melting ice cream as he steps closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. Your breath hitches as his cologne invade your senses.

“I love you. Let’s get married.”

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 8 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“Oh, hello there Sakura.”

She almost lost her balance when she saw her next customers. Standing beside Kakashi with her arm entangled in his was a brunette, a spitting image of Dr. Aki Nohara, a giveaway that this was her sister. Sakura’s surroundings dimmed out of focus, and her hearing became muffled as if she was submerged underwater.

“Couldn’t mistake that green eyes for anyone,” Kakashi continued. “I’ll have a caramel butterscotch with extra whipped cream – make it super heavy – and Rin –“

“That’s supposed to be my order, you dummy,” the woman replied beside him. He chuckled in fascination and tightened his hold on her arm. “Besides, you don’t like sweets.”

“You’re still on a specialized diet so allow me to eat and drink whatever you want while you stick with – “ Kakashi glanced at Sakura, and she immediately mustered a tight-lipped smile. “One iced americano in your smallest size please. Thanks, Sakura.”

She took in a deep breath, suddenly aware that she wasn’t able to acknowledge her teacher and his companion, but so many things have been running through her head – like how did he know it was her? Why was he with Rin? Did he propose already? She hasn’t even confessed yet.

Somehow, in the dragging silence in her ears, she heard Sasuke cleared his throat. That was enough to break her from the spell, and she put on her bravest mask. “Hi Kakashi-sensei. Nice of you to drop by! I’ll have your order ready in a jiffy.”

Kakashi turned around and waved lazily at Sasuke. “One of my students is here too. Are you on a red eye advance study?”

“Can’t sleep so might as well have caffeine.”

“You’re too young to have this energy.”

Rin jokingly slapped Kakashi on the arm. “You talk as if you’re old already.”

“But aren’t I?” The pair slowly drifted away to find a table, but Sakura noticed the flash of recognition when Rin took a long good look at Sasuke, but her friend stared at them like he was throwing sharp draggers.

“He looks happy,” Sakura noted as she fixed their drinks.

“I want your favorite coffee,” Sasuke quipped out of nowhere.

“There’s a thing called palpitations. It’s caramel macchiato.”

“Might do me some good while I wait for you to finish your shift.”

Sakura sighed, feeling the tiredness come upon her all of a sudden so she relented. “Just take it to-go. I want to get out of here.”

She quickly asked permission from the manager, saying she felt sick and fatigued, and with her clocking overtime in the past few weeks, her request was immediately approved without deductions. The mixed winter and spring air hit her lungs as soon as she stepped outside. Sasuke waited for her across the street, a gesture that implied she could go to him or separate ways right now. As she vied for time to decide, she took one last look through the window.

It was a foreign sight. She has never seen Kakashi’s attention torn apart from his books. Even if he was talking, there would be an open page on his side, stealing glances on passages when the conversations got boring, yet there he was, fully attuned to whatever Rin was saying with no book around him…like she was his favorite book and he enjoyed reading every letter of her.

And Sakura realized she could never be the story he would even want to pick up.

She felt the tears coming so she started her pace on the same road. Across from her, Sasuke got the signal and went the other way.

--------------------------------

The last term of their second year came like a bazooka. Sakura threw herself on her pet project as a sort of coping mechanism. The announcement was done during the general assembly which did not generate the intended buzz or reaction. After all, it was a tricky topic to handle and many facets of which were still stigmatized when talked openly in public. Naruto, ever the people magnet, broke the agitated atmosphere in the auditorium with a slow clap and was soon joined by many others.

The council created a Google form which allowed students to anonymously register, and they get assigned a schedule on the day their contracted psychiatrist comes to visit. All they had to do was provide their designated client number. The council further complemented this with short programs that serve as mental health breaks for the student body. Sometimes, this would be as light as a block screening of a coming-of-age film or heavy like a conference with faculty and teachers and questions and concerns are remotely flashed.

Then came Valentines’ Day, and the council organized this some kind of literary showcase that presented the opportunity to mingle woes of personal sadness and griefs with confessions that would have been left unsaid. Naruto and Sasuke both helped in constructing the makeshift stage in the middle of the soccer field that would be used later that afternoon.

“Cookie points for my crush,” Naruto grinned as he hammered away. “Thanks for picking the poem I will be reciting tonight, grumpy. Didn’t know you were into literature.” He jokingly elbowed the raven-haired beside him, and he got a death glare in return.

“Do it properly. Look at that nail sticking out like your porcupine hair,” Sasuke grumbled. “And yes, I’m not as uncultured as you are.”

“But I still don’t understand it though.”

“Ugh, just use the internet to search its meaning, idiot.”

“Meanie!”

A fellow runner peeked into their work area and knocked on wood. “Hey Uchiha. Some girl is looking for you.” Her face expressed grimace, having done this for more than five times already within the span of an hour. If it wasn’t Sasuke, it was one of Naruto’s fan girls or boys.

Sasuke went to her and fumbled around for cash in his pocket. “Next time someone looks for us, tell them we went home for the day. Here’s money for your date later. If you have anyway.”

“Whatever grumpy.” The runner replied, still half-angry, half-frustrated, but she took the money all the same and told the girls that ‘They told me to tell you they went home for the day so shoo shoo.’

Naruto laughed at Sasuke’s successful attempt at bribery. “Look at that rich money. I wonder whether Sakura will give us chocolates.”

“Have you seen their office?” Sasuke flipped open the curtains that will be hang as backdrop. “Their desk is filled with chocolates from her admirers – platonically, romantically, whatever. Some people from other schools dropped by too. You got serious competition.”

Naruto chuckled nervously. “As if I do not know that already. Haven’t you told me before- she likes everyone and everyone likes her.”

Not really true at all now, Sasuke thought to himself. But ignorance is bliss, Naruto.

--------------------------------

The three sat on the grass beside the stage, having full view of the student body listening to the reciters. Throughout the program, Sakura went through each package given to her, visibly stressed with evident signs of sleepless nights under her eyes.

“Before I forget, happy Valentine’s day you two. My council-mates told me you didn’t get any chocolates,” Sakura gave each of them a pouch of small chocolate bars. Sasuke didn’t have to guess if it was store-bought or homemade based on the cuts on her fingers.

“Sakura, stop eating. I almost gagged at the seventh chocolate,” Naruto complained. He tried to get the basket of sweets from her, but she just moved it away from his reach.

“Everything tastes bitter,” she muttered under her breath. “I need sugar. My energy can’t keep up with the countless interviews. I understand that the school board liked the exposure, but the burden falls on me. At least have a teacher back me up?”

“Heard Kakashi-sensei volunteered to accompany you in interviews?” Sasuke was too late in shutting Naruto up, but the most that question got out of Sakura was an eyebrow raise.

“I need more sweets.” She proceeded to jam the rest of the Hershey’s kisses in her mouth.

“Okay, we have a submission from Uzumaki Naruto,” the announcer said. “Shout out to our rookie MVP!” A round of applause. “And who might be the recipient of this poem? We heard through the grapevine that he hid from his admirers all day. I know several people are waiting to confess to him!”

Sasuke instructed him earlier to send the poem anonymously and address it to Sakura, but the dumbass blonde mistakenly exchanged it. He rubbed his forehead in annoyance, but he can’t bring it up right now.

“Just read the poem!” Naruto shouted on the side, clearly embarrassed now. Sakura looked up at him, genuinely curious now, and her sticky chocolate-filled mouth was on the edge of firing him questions.

“Sasuke and I sent in poems! Just to support your program, nothing really too deep into it ehe.” Naruto glanced at Sasuke with slightly widened eyes. “Right, Sasuke?”

“Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare,” the person started.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,

Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

Sakura slapped Naruto on the arm. “Didn’t know you read Shakespeare! What a romantic!”

“Isn’t it a tragedy?” Sasuke remarked, a look of disgust in his face when Sakura mindlessly offered him a toblerone. “No sweets for me.”

Sakura guffawed at Sasuke’s remark, and her laughing was a rare sight recently. She was in too deep in her student council functions that they barely see her. And when they did, she’d be a little bit closer to fatigue.

“What’s funny? Who’s Shakespeare? Let me in on the joke!”

“Let’s call on Kakashi-sensei, our very own student council advisor and youngest teacher in the university. He’ll be reciting a poem by Pablo Neruda. A man of culture, we see,” the emcee announced.

Sakura stopped laughing as soon as she heard his name. If Sasuke could glean into her thoughts, she’s probably making up excuses to escape right now.

Kakashi stood in the middle of the stage, holding an open book. “Let me just ramble on here for a bit. Neruda is a Chilean poet and a politician, but just as much as he is a revolutionary, he is a romantic and a worshipper of ideals and ordinary things. He often compared his muses to earth and nature – basic providers of our existence. It’s interesting to see. Now, this poem is what I would have wanted to say to someone who is fundamentally part of my existence, but she won’t listen to me.” Kakashi smiled even more at the onset of outburst of giggles from the students. “So you’re gonna be the audience whether you want it or not.”

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day

I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,

your hands the color of a savage harvest,

hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,

I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,

the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,

I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,

hunting for you, for your hot heart,

like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

A thundering applause followed Kakashi’s poem and random shouts of, “Drop her name sensei!” “Good luck to your love life!” “Happy for you, sensei!”

As the lights went out on the stage, Sakura fished another pouch from her vest pocket, and Sasuke knew at once that it was Kakashi’s. She popped a bar into her mouth, staring blankly ahead.

“God, it’s so bitter.” Her lips started to quiver, and she started to cry.

Naruto threw a worried glance at Sasuke, but his expression must have given something away because the blonde didn’t prod, and he looked as if all the puzzles fell into place.

Sasuke just didn’t expect to be confronted about it as soon as the program finished. He was carrying blocks of wood to the shed when Naruto dropped the question – a question he already knew the answer to.

“You like Sakura.”

Sasuke inhaled sharply and halted his steps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stacked the wood against each other and turned to face the blonde. “Besides, shouldn’t you be worrying about exams?”

“What exams? We’re exempted from it,” Naruto bristled.

Sasuke smirked. “No, you’re not. You didn’t qualify for finals.”

“Oh shit.”

--------------------------------

“What do we get in return?” Sakura asked as she munched on her bento box. Shouts of the practicing dragonboat team filtered through their space.

“But last time you volunteered!” Naruto said.

“We’re friends so my services don’t come free anymore,” she chided back.

Naruto glared at Sasuke. “If she’s not gonna do it, you’re gonna do it.”

Sasuke nonchalantly shook his head as he skimmed through Naruto’s notes. “What she said.” They weren’t notes per se, but doodles of Sasuke and Sakura and interestingly, projections of different batting stances. “I’m also not gonna forgive you with the duck butt hair.”

“But you have a duck butt hair!” Naruto crossed his arms and huffed menacingly. “Ramen?”

“Same old, same old.” Sakura finished her lunch and started to sip her cranberry juice. “Give us something new.”

“Ramen and…..karaoke?”

Sakura brightened up at the prospect. “Deal.”

“At least add snacks to your place,” Sasuke interjected. “And not just ramen. Put some nuts or fruits in your fridge.”

Naruto grumbled but raised two thumbs up in defeat. “Deal.”

--------------------------------

Sasuke has thin patience when it came to teaching Naruto, Sakura observed. She didn’t know how these two managed to do the supplementary math lessons when she wasn’t a part of their group yet. She didn’t mind teaching, but Naruto’s short attention span was a devil of its own. He would be attentive to her for 15 minutes and then drowse off so Sasuke and her agreed on non-negotiables.

“No ramen break for you if you don’t finish this set of problems,” Sakura told him.

“You’re demon spawns,” Naruto cried out in defiance.

“If you don’t get a passing score on this sample test, no kani toppings for you.” Sasuke raised the stakes.

“Demon spawns,” Naruto repeated.

“You won’t call us demon spawns if you see your name on the list of passers.” Sakura started the stopwatch on her phone. “Now go.”

This took her mind off things, from Kakashi’s public confession to the blank career form hidden within the pages of her history textbook. It was a good distraction until the penultimate exams day. Naruto came in with a bandana on his forehead with FIGHTING written in the middle of it. Sasuke, as usual, breezed through it, already finished by the thirty-minute mark.

And she? Well, she liked exams. The time limit and the pressure allowed her the reprieve to shut the rest of the world out so she relished answering each number until the bell rang. It was a moment where she can focus fully on the paper in front of her, the sound of her pen scribbling, and her mind working full force to cull out the answers in her memory. Her utmost concentration on questions suspended her own questions on her feelings for a teacher, on her parents’ divorce, on her future.

When the school plastered the results on the bulletin board, she couldn’t help but release a satisfied chuckle. She turned to Sasuke who was surprisingly stoic about the results. “First place! The bonus point really helped.”

“Why should I bother with a teacher’s middle name for the bonus question?” Sasuke grumbled back. “Congrats. Stop rubbing it in my face already.”

Naruto was too busy pointing his name on the board and bragging about it to the student body, most especially the freshies. When he found them on the back of the crowd, he rushed to them and placed his arms around their shoulders “Drinks on me!!!!!”

--------------------------------

“He really shouted drinks on me in the middle of the school, sauntered in here like he’s loaded, and ordered two pitchers of iced tea.” Sakura kept bringing this up since they entered the karaoke room ten minutes ago.

Naruto was preoccupied with inputting song numbers on the machine to respond to Sakura’s banters. “Technically, they’re still drinks!”

Sasuke was on the phone with the kitchen, and from what she could hear, he was ordering almost everything on the menu. When he sat down on the adjacent couch, Sakura leaned forward to him. “Are you gonna finish all of that?”

He jutted his index finger to Naruto. “No, but he will.”

The first notes of Michael Jackson’s Thriller wafted through the room, and the blonde made a quick impression of the artist’s famed moonwalk.

“Why are you opening with that?” Sakura cried out in amusement. “It’s not even Halloween!” Sasuke watched Naruto try to dance with a straight face, but she thought he was itching to face palm the whole time.

Naruto kept beckoning Sakura to join him in the middle of the room, but she was busy laughing at him and taking videos. “I’ll send these to Haru as a pick-me-up. I think this is the best remedy.”

Next was Sakura’s pick – Heaven is a Place on Earth by Belinda Carlisle. She couldn’t contain her laughter in between verses when the two boys finally heard that she was tone deaf. Naruto joined her with the other mic, trying to drown out the off-key notes. By the bridge, Sasuke stood up with them, a glass of juice in his hand, and mouthed the words.

“You know this song!” Sakura said excitedly.

“I don’t live under a rock!” He yelled back amid the loud music.

“OOOH BABY DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT’S WORTH OOH HEAVEN IS A PLACE ON EARTH. THEY SAY IN HEAVEN, LOVE COMES FIRST. OOH HEAVEN IS A PLACE ON EARTH!”

“Okay who’s next?” she asked when the next number flashed on the screen. Sasuke silently took the mic from her and faced the monitor with a hand in his pants’ pocket.

Naruto gripped the mic harder when the song started. “I’ll be your second voice, grumpy!”

She immediately went to the front and started recording. “One for the road.”

“No videos, Haruno,” Sasuke warned.

“Come on, it’s my remembrance,” she whined. He wasn’t able to clap back when the lines started to move.

“Turn around…” Naruto sang.

“Every now and then, I get a little bit lonely and you’re never coming ‘round,” Sasuke’s baritone voice filled the room like an empty coliseum.

“The fuck. You can sing?” Sakura gasped out loud. “How can you have that voice and not sing - like you know, every day?!”’

Sasuke gestured her to stop as he belted, stoic-faced, through the chorus with Naruto singing like a slaughtered pig in the background. Sakura stopped recording and joined them for the rest of the song.

Two hours and three pitchers of orange juice later, they finally settled on the couch and munched on Naruto’s leftovers of fries, buttered chicken, nachos, and calamari. On the karaoke monitor was David Bowie singing Heroes.

“Can’t believe we’re already seniors two months from now.” He stared at the ceiling, his eyes following the tag game of disco lights. “Elections of officers will be tomorrow which means Captain Haru will be formerly stepping down.”

Sasuke reached out and shook his hand. “Good luck next captain.”

Naruto immediately pulled out from his grasp. “What do you mean next captain?”

Sakura chuckled and patted his back as assurance. “Everyone knows it’ll be you. Have you seen how your teammates look at you when you’re discussing strategies?”

In the dimness of the room, she saw the flush on Naruto’s cheeks, and she found it amusing how he cannot take compliments.

Naruto scratched the back of his head. “Well, everything is possible, right? That said, I still haven’t filled out my college form, but I’m really set on getting an athletic scholarship and eventually be part of the national team! How about you grumpy? Changed your mind yet?”

“About what?” Sakura glanced at the silent raven-haired guy beside her. To be able to see this much of him was a nice privilege.

“I’m moving away after high school.” Sasuke fiddled with his half-empty glass, his eyes trained on the slushing juice. “I already sent applications to some universities in Europe.”

“We also have good medicine programs here. I don’t get why you have to move away so far. I’m so bad with converting time zones.”

Sasuke scrunched his nose in annoyance. “Are you dumb? The schools you listed are also out of this district.”

She seemed to be moving farther and farther from their exchange. Like an outsider peeking in, she understood the frailty of the moments in front of her, and by the time the next two months set in, the stopwatch would have started running its last lap. The bonds she has made so serendipitously were in danger of being cut off by dreams. She breathed in, engulfing the noise and scent of this room, panning every color and shape assembled like supercut in her head, praying that someday if she would lose herself, she’d come back here right at this frozen memory and relive the wonderful indecisiveness of adolescence and the chance to say I don’t know without repercussions.

“Sakura to earth?” Naruto’s voice.

“Idiot. It’s earth to Sakura.” Sasuke’s voice.

She blinked fast, returning to the moment that wasn’t finished playing out yet. She quickly brushed her hands on her eyes as if something got into her eyes, hoping they don’t see the small droplets of tears that have formed. “Oh uh, I have a list of prospects, but I’m not quite sure what to take.” The form was still blank actually.

“That’s a usual problem of anyone who’s too good at everything,” Sasuke replied.

“Are you complimenting me?” I wish I was.

“Should I take it back?” He proceeded to gulp down the remnants of his glass.

The monitor suddenly turned off, indicating their time has run out. “Hey guys, for our last term, let’s make the most out of it, all right?” Naruto asked. “I’m so happy we became friends.”

“No hugging please,” Sasuke said, but it was too late. Naruto’s arms were too strong to pull away from so the two allowed him a few seconds of skinship.

Naruto’s words struck a chord in Sakura; it was a resolve she tried to form and disfigure for several months now. Before they could stand up to fix their things, Sakura blurted it out loud before her courage took the best of her.

“For our last term.” She flexed her fingers and curled them up against her palm, placing weight on her lap as she ground her fists onto it. “For our last term, I’m gonna confess to Kakashi.”

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 9

[oloreaa]

Daisy Chains

Pairing: Din Djarin/f!Reader

Summary: You fall in love with Din in the summer before he swears his creed.

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: slightly nsfw, non descriptive sex, yes I used those gifs of young Pedro to fuel this, so expect shaggy haired puppy eyed Din who is cocky af

Notes: I wrote this in a span of 5h because my brain could not stop working, also I took some liberties with canon: Mandalorian's come of age when they're 21 in this fic, due to the severity of the creed/ the restrictions that come with it. So Reader is about 19/20 while Din is 20 :) [edit: title and one line are inspired by Lana del Rey's "Summer Bummer"]

▪ Masterlist ▪ Next ▪

……………

The first time you saw him, he was wearing a scowl, staring after the Mandalorian warrior who had given him a slap on the back of the head.

You could not help your giggle, turning away so you could laugh at the grumpy expression on his face. When you looked back, though, his gaze was on you.

Immediately straightening, you sent him the most innocent smile you could muster.

He raised an eyebrow at you, and made his way over to your stall that was filled with flowers in both pots and buckets, ready to be arranged in various possibilities.

"You see something funny?" he asked, shaking the slightly shaggy hair out of his face. Your eyes widened as you took him in, and you felt your face become hot as you realised that he was handsome as hell.

Dark brown hair that was a tad too long, a sharp face with high cheekbones, a jawline to die for, dark eyes you could lose yourself in. Not to mention his voice, like honey wrapped around every vowel and consonant, pleasant to listen to and you would do anything to keep him talking.

"No, sir," you said, and they were the only words you could manage, "nothing funny at all."

The corner of his mouth quirked up, and you could not help but be charmed by those looks, the instant way he had drawn you in, the sharp glint in his eyes.

"Is that so, flower girl?"

You felt your heart flutter in your chest, and bit your lip playfully, suddenly feeling very bold. "Yes," you breathed, tilting your face up playfully.

He scoffed slightly, and put his hands on his hips, resting his weight on one leg. You could place him as maybe one year older than you, two if you had to squint.

"Girls like you should know when to keep their eyes away," he said. 

You leaned against the counter, smiling brightly, overwhelmed by the urge to get to know him better.

"The way I see it, I was just observing a spectacle."

"Uh huh?"

"What are you doing with the Mandalorians, anyways?" You asked, looking at him. Wearing something that approximated armour, a durasteel plate on his torso and some thigh plates, and a vambrace, he seemed better armed than most of the visitors of the market here.

"I'm one of them," he answered, puffing his chest out, raising his chin.

"You're not wearing a helmet," you observed, and you could not help the coy smile that crept onto your face.

"I'll swear the creed soon," he said, clenching his jaw and revealing a twitch in his cheek that almost made you swoon.

"Oh dear, that's a shame," you said, plucking a daisy from the flower pot you were selling.

"Why?" His face was set into a frown, brows pulled together, and it was honestly unfair that he was so good looking even while doing that.

"Face like yours, under a helmet? A damn shame."

His eyes widened, and he stared at you, and with delight you could see his cheeks darkening some. He opened his mouth several times as if wanting to say something, but nothing came out.

You reached over the counter, and gave him the daisy, which he accepted without taking his eyes off you.

"If you care for dancing, come and find me," you invited, and with a shy smile, you told him your name. 

When he repeated it, dark eyes locked onto yours intensely, you swore you just melted a bit.

~

You did not see him for the next week, which was fine. To be honest with yourself, you did not even expect for him to remember you. The way you saw it, it was just a small interaction with a cute guy, some butterflies in your belly and a crush to think back on in the middle of the night. It did not matter that he probably forgot you.

If you gave yourself enough time, you might have completely forgotten him, too.

But apparently, the universe had other ideas.

"Flower girl," someone called from behind, "Do you need help?"

You looked up from the ground, teeth gritted together in effort from the heavy bag of soil you were carrying. When you caught sight of him, your face lit up.

"Not-A-Mandalorian-Yet!" You called out, putting the bag onto the ground as gently as you could, already moving onto giving him a hug. "Hey, how are you?"

He looked at you, startled, and with a hot face you realised you had automatically tried to embrace him like you often did.

"I'm good," he said stiffly, and you gave an embarrassed smile, stomach doing somersaults.

"Oh, Maker, I'm sorry I assumed," you started to say, hands raised to your mouth, "I do that with my friends, I'm so sorry."

He furrowed his brows and gave an equally embarrassed smile back.

"It's fine," he said, "I don't mind."

Yet clearly he did.

You stepped back from him, and bit your bottom lip nervously. "I think I'll get going," you said, fidgeting like an absolute moron and cursing yourself.

He jerked into motion.

"No, I'll- Let me help you with the bag," he said, and if you had not been too occupied with how hot your face felt at the moment, you might have noticed how he was blushing as well.

"That's nice of you," you managed to say, and barely resisted a giggle in both embarrassment and delight when he picked the bag up with no difficulty, putting it smoothly under one arm, before turning towards you and giving you a slightly crooked smile. "Where to?"

You blinked at him, a big smile on your face. "Thank you," you told him, and started into motion. He easily kept up, but did not initiate conversation like you expected.

If he won't talk, I will, you thought, and squared your shoulders in a mini pep boost.

"So, Not-A-Mandalorian-Yet," your mouth chose to say, and you inwardly started to cringe at yourself, "Do you have a name that I can call you by?"

He hesitated, and looked away while you walked, and your heart sank a bit.

"Oh, no- no, it's fine if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to-"

"It's Din," he said, "I haven't sworn the creed yet, so you can know my name."

You beamed at him, and he shyly returned your smile, his dark eyes intense and burning into you.

~

The third time you saw Din, he was on a supply run, walking past your stall with a hovering craft filled with crates. Him and three other young armoured humanoids, fellow Mandalorians, if you had to guess, were walking alongside with it. When his gaze met yours, you held up a small bundle of daisy blooms that was in your hand already, and shot him a smile. You were surprised when he smiled back, sending it alongside with a fluttery wink that made your heart skip a beat.

~

It became a game. 

Everytime he came to your stand, you instantly perked up, heart beating fast in your chest, a broad smile already greeting him.

Whenever you passed each other, you smiled, fleetingly touched each other, found excuses to look into the other's eyes.

He started to greet you with "sarad", and while you were pretty sure that he was calling you something like annoying or cheeky, the gentle tone he used and the tender way he would smile at you let you know that this attraction was not as one-sided as you tried to tell yourselves sometimes.

And you were pretty sure that Mandalorians do not need to buy flowers as often as Din did.

"What does sarad mean?" you asked him once while you finished up a bouquet for another client.

He was quiet, looking at you for a long time, before: "Sarad means flower."

You stared at him, and he visibly blushed even if the rest of his face did not change.

"I like it," you said, a shy smile on your face, "Please don't stop calling me that, all right?"

He smiled brightly at you, his entire face lighting up, and you were pretty sure that if you had not been smitten before, you would have definitely fallen for him in that second.

"Okay," he said.

~

"Do you want to go dancing?" You asked him when you saw him again, this time alone, "It's the weekend soon and my friends often meet somewhere to dance."

He huffed, leaning against the stall, cutting an attractive figure against the bright light of the marketplace. It was a slow day, barely anyone coming to visit in the heat of the midday sun. 

"Do I look like I dance?" Din asked, giving you a wry look. 

You bit your lip, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

"I could teach you," you offered, in a breathier tone than you would have liked. He looked at you, and you could have sworn that his eyes dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second, which made you even bolder, "We could dance alone at first."

He stared at you, jaw slightly ticking.

"I might have to take you up on that," he said, and oh, when did his voice become so deep?

"When do you want to?"

His eyes dropped to your lips again, this time for a longer moment, and when he said "Now," in that sinful voice of his, you knew that he was not talking about dancing at all.

Risking a look around, seeing the marketplace basically abandoned, most of the other vendors having taken a break, you decided that you could have a bit of fun.

"There is a bag of soil in the back, and I might need you to lift it for me," you told him, shooting Din a coy smile that became a full beam when he nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips as well, delightful dimples showing as his eyes crinkled in amusement. 

He followed you without a word, and before you knew it, you were out of sight of everyone else.

"Can I-" you started to say, wanting to ask for his permission first when you turned around and looked at him, but he sneaked a hand behind your head, tilted your face towards him and gave you a chaste kiss on the lips.

You looked at him in surprise, mouth open, flush threatening to burn you alive.

"I'm sorry," he started to say, blushing furiously, "I've not kissed many people before, was it-" 

Before he could say anything else, you had both of your hands cradling his face, tugging him closer to your body.

"That's all right," you said before kissing him again, this time opening your mouth and tasting him properly, feeling him reciprocate clumsily but with enthusiasm. Your lips parted with a quiet smack, and you stared into his face. His eyes were hooded and fixed onto you like he was a hunter and you were prey, a blush high on his cheeks, his lips slightly pinker than before.

"I'll teach you," you whispered, before kissing him again, tugging him even closer.

~ 

After that, his visits became more frequent.

~

"My alor'ad does not approve of this," Din said to you after a few more times you crossed each other's paths.

You had shown him the meadow you often went to, reading there most of the time, a small place not many people would find. The both of you were sitting in the tall grass, your fingers working on making a flower crown for Din. He did not know it was for him, yet, and he was holding his face into the sun, eyes closed as he soaked in the warmth of the summer.

You hummed, and linked your fingers into his, giving him a cheeky smile.

"My mother would not approve as well," you told him, using a long piece of grass to tie off the crown, "Always says something about finding a husband first. Would probably marry me off to the first Imperial officer she could find, to keep me out of trouble."

He opened one eye, looking at you with a smirk.

"You? A trophy wife for some cog head?"

"I would make an amazing trophy wife, thank you very much."

The young man turned onto his side, propping his head up with his hand, giving you a cocky grin.

"That you would," he said, gaze trailing along your figure, and you felt desire building in you at the heat in his eyes.

"Here, for you," you said to diffuse the tension crackling between the both of you, and presented him the wildflower crown.

Din stared at you in bewilderment, and you could not help your laugh at the offended look in his eyes.

"I'm not wearing that," he said, with a small scowl. You walked on your knees towards him, a smile threatening to split your face, and crowned him.

"I declare you king of the meadow," you said as dramatically as possible, before dissolving in a fit of giggles. You could see that he was still embarrassed, but he was grinning as well.

"I'm training to become a Mandalorian," he told you, face becoming very serious, raising his eyebrows at you and tilting his chin towards his chest, his dark eyes making you feel all sorts of butterflies, "I am very dangerous and can kill you with no hesitation."

You nodded, a mocking expression on your face, knowing deep inside that he would never harm you without reason. "That's hot."

He snorted in surprise, a loud laugh ringing through the meadow.

"I can take out a stormtrooper within twenty seconds."

You giggled, slapping his chest slightly. "So could a very determined duck. Or a Gungan!"

He attacked you, tickling fingers trailing along your side, making you shriek as you tried to get away from him.

"Take that back," Din demanded, a playful smile on his face.

"Okay, okay!" You laughed, squirming under his touch, "You're a mighty warrior."

He nodded, and raised his eyebrows at you expectantly.

"Din, are you fishing for compliments?" 

He winked at you. "I might be."

You pushed at his shoulder, chuckling to yourself, before you started off.

"You can take on four men at once."

He furrowed his brows and nodded thoughtfully, lips pursed, "I like those odds."

"You can use those badass jetpacks." You pressed a small kiss onto his knuckles, desperately trying not to laugh when his gaze became self-satisfied. 

"Training in the Rising Phoenix, sarad, don't you forget that."

"You can roundhouse kick a blurrg!"

Dissolving into giggles, you pressed your face into his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as well.

The both of you cackled for several minutes straight, everytime you caught each other's gazes, starting to laugh again.

It took too long until you could breathe normally again.

"Haven't tried that yet," Din said, making you giggle.

"You're a mighty warrior, we all know that, no need to brag."

He smirked at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "But you know that it's not bragging if you can actually do it."

"I'm sure you can," you snorted, "But even warriors can wear flower crowns."

Din scoffed, a big grin on his face. "Is that so?"

He tried to take the crown off, but you pushed it deeper onto his head, flattening his shaggy hair against his forehead. He tried again, crunching his nose at you, a playful smile on his face, but you resisted his charm to the best of your abilities.

He quickly grabbed your shoulder and flipped you around, making you shriek with laughter as he pinned you onto the ground.

"Stop that," he said, and you could feel his belly twitch against you as he suppressed his laughter, "I'm very dangerous and I have a reputation to uphold."

"Of course, Din," you said, smiling up at him, his head eclipsing the sun in your view. Tugging at his hair, he pulled the crown down and set it onto your head.

"It suits you better," he said in a rough voice, and before you know it, he was devouring you in a searing kiss that made your toes curl, a hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to him for better access.

When he groaned your name into your mouth, you almost came on the spot.

~

You had told him to come to the meadow tonight, and you were excited beyond compare. As soon as you saw his familiar frame, tall and lanky but with deliciously broad shoulders, you made your way through the high grass, a basket in your hands.

"I brought food," you told him shyly, before spreading a picnic blanket onto the ground, flattening it carefully.

He dropped to his knees, and helped to make it more even, then put the basket right on the side so one corner would be secured by the weight.

You both took your shoes off, and after a bit of light conversation and nibbling at the various fruits you had packed, relaxed into each other.

"You know I can't do this for long, right?" Din asked, slowly tracing the side of your face with a gentle finger, his head propped up by his hand as you lay side by side under the guise of watching the stars.

You turned your head to him, and stared into his face.

"How long do we have?" you asked him, voice quiet and very small.

"Two months," he said, voice rough. 

To avoid having to answer to that, you kissed him desperately, rolling on top of him, bodies flush together as you straddled his lap, feeling proof of his desire against you. Kissing your way down his neck, you were careful not to leave any marks that Din could be punished for, should the Mandalorians see them. His hands were on you, kneading your sides, pulling you close.

He sat up quickly, and took off his shirt, and with pooling desire you absorbed the sight of his toned upper body, some scars curling around his arms and one slash across his abs.

He was beautiful. And you told him that as well, watching him blush, gaze darkening.

When you looked him into the eyes in the dim starlight, he gave you a slightly nervous but determined smile. You quickly resolved to kiss every single one of the scars he might possess, leaving a trail of wet kisses on his chest, then his stomach, and then lower.

He gasped when you wrapped your lips around him, his fingers tightening in your hair.

~

It was sufficient to say that while his visits were frequent before, now they were a nightly occurrence.

~ 

You could not always finish your explorations of each other, sometimes your commlink blinked and your mother demanded to know where you are, but most of the time it was Din's, the covert sending out messages to several of their trainees, having them run errands. But despite all of that, you learned each other's bodies quite well anyways. Using every moment you had together, touching the other one, feeling your skin against each other, the evidence for your desire never failed to make the other one dizzy. 

You learned a lot about Din during those stolen nights, and days, and little breaks whenever you could manage to sneak away. 

He was just as enthusiastic kissing you on the mouth as everywhere else, which you loved. It was almost as if he was trying to absorb as much of your touch as possible, probably stocking up on touch before he will swear the creed in a few weeks. 

As much as you wished that he would choose you over his tribe, you know he would not. It was too important to him.

So you took everything he had to offer you now, and made the best of it.

You made love under the stars so many times you had lost count, hiding a smile every time you felt the dull ache he left behind, and with Din's passion, you had never been so grateful before that you had the implant.

And it was so unfair, as well, for he had the face of an angel but his voice was sinful, making your head spin in the best of ways. Letting him in your life and between your legs was one of the best things that could have happened to you, even though time was working against you.

Din always let his mouth run while you were warming his ears with your thighs, while he was deep inside you, murmuring against your neck, while his fingers were buried in you, or in your hair as you looked up into his dark eyes, winking as you swirled your tongue around him. 

He never seemed to be able to shut up while you were around him, on him, under him, and it was as if he tried to make up for lost time already.

You pretended that you do not cry yourself to sleep because of his creed sometimes.

~

"I'll be of age in the fall," he told you again when you were hiding in the back of the stall on another slow day with almost no customers. You were on his lap, both of you with flushed faces and heaving chests after you spend several minutes simply making out, hearts fluttering fast in your chests. "I can't stay for long."

Even as your heart broke at hearing that, you decided that, once again, it was a problem for future-you.

"Then we'll make the best of it," you said before capturing his lips again, making him groan deep in his throat.

"You're so pretty," he whispered, his big hands resting on your waist, pulling your bodies close together, his dark eyes burning into you, the shaggy fringe falling into his eyes softening his face, "So, so pretty."

"Even when I'm making you flower crowns?" you teased.

"Especially when you're doing that," he whispered, and you pushed his fringe away from his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Din," you murmured his name, looking at him tenderly.

"You've wrapped me up in your daisy chains, sarad."

Heart clenching at the genuine affection in his voice, you kissed him to shut him up, feeling him smile against you, knowing that your days together were coming to an end.

……………

Thank you for reading!

Huge thanks at both @mndalorians for listening to me ramble late at night and being amazing, and @teaofpeach for being the beta of this fic, looking over this and constantly encouraging and enabling me. I love you❤

Tags: @binggrae-banana-milk @b0n-chann @pisss-offf-ghostt @chibi-liz05 @din-damn-djarin @soldade @yourexcellentboiiii @chaotic-noceur @ezrasarm @hdlynn @mndalorians @over300books @agirllovespasta @crookedmoonsaultpunk @teaofpeach @shadylightbearherring @mitchi-c @concussed-to-pieces @adikaofmandalore @dadolorian

[all-the-names-are-taken-aaaaa]

Lie Lie Bye

Alya sighed as she looked at the Akuma shelters Tv. She wished she was out there. The footage would be so good for her blog. It was easily the strongest akuma ever. Lila had everyone go to the shelter though. She was worried about her getting out and targeting them. Alya wasn't too worried. They took everything but her clothes and hid them after locking her in that closet. Plus they were pretty sure she kept the pin in her purse so she could not transform. Alya took notice of the fact ladybug had yet to show up. Everyone was getting nervous untill Chloe shreeks "that is Ladybugs kwami" Alya sighs again thinking 'when did that brat get here she was not with the class.' There was a loud bang as the camera shook then fell facing were the reporter ran. The reporter and crew are shown trying to free Marinette from a fallen building. 'Ugh why is it always her. Bet she would not be helping her if she knew what that girl had done.' Alya thinks. The Tv switches to another live stream. The fight is long and hard. Chat manages to defeat the Akuma. Tikki purifies the butterfly befor passing out. Chat stops in front of the reporter "Ladybug is missing possibly hurt. I have to go"

"As many of you saw our fellow reporter trying to free one Marinette Dupain-Cheng rubble earlier today. What you did not see was the brave action taken by this young woman. Marinette was seen assisting many injured people who would most likely have died without first aid befor the incident. Marinette saw a little girl that had been separated from her mother and mother and dived to shield her from the colapsed building. Now to the reporter who found her"

The reporter from earlier in the day stands in front of a hospital. "The brave young woman you saw earlier today is undergoing a life saving surgery. The surgery is the first of it's kind. It is extremely risky. It has been determined that the surgery is the only way Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng will survive. Marinette was injured protecting a young child barierly four years of age. I need a moment -"

The camera switches "Take your time Nadia. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a wonderful, amazing, and kind girl. I speak from personal experience. Everyone here at Tvi has her best wishes in mind. The people she helped are being checked on in the hospital. The child has only scraps and bruises thanks to-" Alya cuts the tv off. Her phone started going crazy.

"Chill guys the cure will fix everything" Alya sends to her panicking freinds.

Chloe responds "Unterly redicoulous. Alya you had a Miraculous. You know they have timers. You should-" Alya does not bother reading the rest of Chloe's text. "Quit trying to make us feel bad for that lieing traitor." Alya sends back. Then her phone goes silent afterwards. Shrugging she goes to bed.

It had been a week and ladybug has not showed back up only her kwami. There had been a hand full of minor akumas. They did minimal damage. Paris thanks luck for that. Two weeks and a temporary ladybug shows up. Chat appears less but on time for every akuma attack. The Akuma class have become outcast because of their behavior around the subject of the hospitalized hero.

Week three

"Are you sure you are ready to return?" Kagami asks handing the earrings to Marinette. "Do I have a choice? We are in the Akuma class after all." Marinette responds while making a jester to Chloe. "Utterly ridiculous they try to stop Mayrue they nearly killed ladybug and countless others." Chloe snaps out. "Once we get Hawkmoth we can bring justice for our bug" Luka states continuing a melody. They had all become permanent heros with new costumes after Marinette was allowed visiters. Now that she is allowed to leave to hospital they decided to meet up at her place. Chat/Adrian was invited but he could not be around Marinette for very long without crying. He had gotten better as she got proper prosthetics but originally any time he saw her mechanical, technological parts he cried. Now though Marinette looked and felt almost completely normal if not for the massive amount of strength on her right side. He did explain why he could not do anything to stop Lila and how much he regretted it. Marinette understood and had forgiven him but he had not forgiven himself. Kagami had to be held back by both Luka and Chloe as to not hunt down Gabriel for having Lila spy on his own sun and the fact Lila was blackmailing Adrian by stating one sentence from her would have him under house arrest was enough to have Marinette seeing red. Though the crying boy snapped both the girls out of it.

Chat running by the bakery yelling Akuma was enough to snap Marinette out of her thoughts. Kagami and Marionette went one way while Chloe and Luka went another. They had learned quickly splitting up in groups offered advantages. However not long after heading out Ryuuko pulls Ladybug down within sight of the akuma but also within sight of Hawkmoth. "Inform the others I will keep him busy." Ladybug explains.

The others quickly take out the Akuma but Hawkmoth is quick to make his move too. He manages to stab ladybug through her right shoulder. Marinette felt the pain as one normally would but as soon as Hawkmoth turned his attention to her teammates she pushes forward ripping off his miraculous. Chat rushes forward knocking Gabriel out with his staff. Queen Bee holds chat back and Luka holds Kagami back. Ladybug falls back just barely able to cast the cure befor passing out. Adrian collects all the things related to the miraculous and turns them in. The team decide to reveal their identities as to clear Adrian name and help with the lawsuits Marinette is preparing.

"The broadcast is supposed to air 30 minutes after class starts." Adrian was nervous. This was the first time he were coming back to class since Hawkmoth was defeated. Gorilla and Abby were their fulltime bodyguards now.

"Yeah I'm just hoping the principal corporates with the police." Marinette responds. Adrian nods. They enter the classroom. Many of their classmates say harsh things about the so called traitors but none come close to them in fear of their bodyguards.

When it comes time for the broadcast Ms Bustier makes it a class activity because why not? Only for the class to stare in shock at the the back row of their class. Marinette, Adrian, and Chloe continue to ignore their class as they ask questions. Ms Bustier tries to scold them for "not taking part in class discussion"

"Why the hell should my client disclose any information to a bunch of incompetent self righteous idiots who nearly killed ladybug!" Chloe's bodyguard snaps. Nino looks horrified. Juleka covers her mouth in shock. The pen in Nathaniels hand snaps. Ms Bustier looks taken back "My students wou never-" the door slams open. "Alya Cesaire and Lila Rossi are to come with us impatiently. If you refuse we will take you by force. You have been deemed a threat to those around you" The man said. He clearly was not an officer but the man behind him is. Alya yells something about diplomatic immunity. "Alya Cesaire and Lila Rossi you are under arrest for attempted murder." The officer states while the man beside him just looks exasperated. "We only did it because we thought she was Mayrue! We only locked her in a closet!" Someone yells. "A closet in a building you knew the Akuma was targeting. If she had not of sent her Kwami through the air vents the Akuma would not have been stopped. If she had not gotten out dozens of people would have died including her. In case you have forgotten the miraculous cure did not fix anything that happened during that time because there was not a ladybug to case it so those people are still healing." The man states. "She looks perfectly fine now" Kim says. Chloe takes off part of Marinettes mechanical are and "yeet"s it at Kim's desk were it breaks in two. "Life saving risky surgery" is all Chloe says while picking up and returning Marinette hand. "As for the rest of you. You will give statements then head straight home unless told otherwise. Your parents are being contacted as we speak."

Nino, Nathaniel, Sabrina, and Juleka were allowed to stay. Ms. Bustier had to leave for the day. As it turned out the only one that had any idea what had happened was Nino who thought he had convinced his girlfriend not to act on what Lila said. Nino had no idea anything had happened that day until that moment. He believed Marinette stayed to help people because that is who she is. Ms. Bustier is fired as a teacher and brought up on charges of neglect as no teacher or adult for that matter could be that blindof all of what went on inform of them.

Nino gains temporary Miraculous. Nathaniel becomes Foxie. Juleka becomes Bunbun. They all continue to be heros for different reasons.

The classmates directly involved go though the justice system. Those that helped plan or just knew about it were sent to different schools for troubled teens.

[hybridfanfiction]

Owner Training - 9

- Lonely Kitten - 

If there was anything that made you hate having to get up at the crack of dawn to go to work besides the fact that you were actually going to work , it was the sight that greeted you when you went to say your goodbyes for the day.

Yoongi was curled up on the right side of the bed, the blankets pulled up so much you could barely see his face. He looked so comfortable and cozy, and you wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and let his soft purrs lull you back to sleep.

Yoongi suddenly does that weird snore/snort combo he does when he’s jolted from sleep, and he turns to the other side, now facing the doorway. His eyes are still closed but your heart flutters a little when he tugs some blankets back like he’d worried he’d pulled them off of you.

You grin and walk up to him, bending over to press a small kiss to his forehead. He cracks one eye open and looks up at you sleepily.

“Work?” he mumbles, his voice adorably slurred.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll see you later, kay?”

He hums and smacks his lips. “Don’t stay too late. You’ve been working too much.”

He had a point. You’ve already worked nine days straight this week and you were going crazy.

“I won’t. Today should be an easy day.”

How he manages to project so much skepticism with just one eye is a mystery.

“Promise?”

“Sure, baby. I promise. Love you.”

“Love,” is all he manages to mumble before he falls back asleep.

****

The thing about your job is that...you hate it. You’d gone into this job expecting to be able to make a difference. That you’d find abandoned kids great homes, bring families together, or...you didn’t even know. It was a lot of rainbows and unicorns. The reality of it was that you saw a lot of kids being given back to abusive homes because their dad passed an anger management class, only to be back in the system six months later. Parents would take each other to court over visitation rights, and only relent when they received even more money from the other. And those were just some of the more mild issues. Basically, this job had opened your eyes to the fact that people were monsters.

And on top of the actual work, was the fact that your seniors and boss made your life a hell. Instead of treating you with the respect due to you as a fellow lawyer with the same shiny degrees as them, they instead handed their work off on you or made you do menial tasks like you were just another paralegal ( NOT to shit on paralegals either - their job was hella hard too).

You didn’t even have your own office! You were just another desk in the sea of paralegals and secretaries. When you’d brought it up at your last review, you’d been told it was because you were the new hire and you had to work your way up. Well, you’d been working here for several years now, and the hotshot young guy straight out of Yale that they’d hired a year ago already had a private office and his own secretary.

Literally, the only thing keeping you going these days was the fact that you needed the money and you didn’t know what else to do. At least you had Yoongi waiting for you at home to look forward to.

“L/N, I’m going to need your help with these pleadings. Need them done for tomorrow. Thanks,” Johnson, one of the lawyers you hated the most, threw a pack of client interview notes on your desk and struts off without even giving you a chance to reply.

You sigh and look at the packet, debating setting them on fire and walking out of the building like a boss. But then he’d just complain to the big boss, who would call you in and give you a talking to. It all seemed like too much of a hassle. (You knew you were being bullied for being the only female lawyer here - it was ridiculous and sexist. Like, hello? Is this 1924? No.)

You’d get out of here eventually. Somehow. For now, you simply pull the packets closer and get to work.

Yoongi is going to kill you.

****

When you arrive home and finally kick off your heels with a happy sigh, it suddenly hits you that your apartment is silent. No TV, no booming rap music, not even the blessed sounds of cooking that your empty stomach had been looking forward to.

“Yoongi?”

“Nice of you to join us.”

You jump as he mumbles the words, finally pinpointing him in the corner of the dining room. He’s lounging in one of the chairs with his arms folded, his eyes screaming his disappointment.

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry.”

“Late, she says. It’s past midnight,” he scoffs.

“I know! I was going to leave earlier but I got stuck with some extra work.”

“You promised.”

His tone hurts you and you feel horrible.

He reaches out his hand, looking you dead in the eye...and pushes your vase of wildflowers right onto the floor.

The glasses crashes everywhere and he merely sits back and looks at the mess with a slight smirk.

“What the fuck, Yoongi?”

He shrugs. “It was in my way.”

“Why do you... aw hell ,” you whisper, feeling tears well in your eyes.

Suddenly, he leans foreword, looking at you with alarm. “Why the fuck are you crying? No, wait , stop that.”

“I’m so so-sorry,” you hiccup, as your tears turn to wails. “I’m a horrible person and a horrible girlfriend. I can’t do anything right. I’m a failure.”

Yoongi rushes to you and crouches down, pulling you into his chest.

“No, you’re amazing. The best. I’m just throwing a tantrum like a baby because I miss you. I’m sorry, I’ll be better,” he croons, petting your back frantically in an attempt to comfort you.

You lean into his touch and let yourself cry until chest and throat throb in pain too much to continue. Yoongi presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Better?” me mutters, and you nod your head, finally looking up at him. His eyes are red too, with tear tracks down his cheek. You swipe at them and he kisses your hand.

“Sorry,” you whisper hoarsely, and he shakes his head.

“No need. I’m sorry I was being a brat.”

“You have a point though. I’m never home.”

“Because you’re literally working to take care of us.”

“Yeah, but...even I know that they are working me too much. I’ve never been so stressed in my life, Yoongi. And today I had to literally watch some kid cry and be torn away from the foster family that’s been raising him since he was two weeks old and be given to his druggie mother who he’s seen once in three years. I just...how is that okay?”

“It’s not. Not everyone has as big a heart as you, love.”

You grunt and relax into his touch as he pets your hair soothingly.

“If you could find something else, what would you do?”

You consider the question. “I’m not sure. I think there’s still a part of me that desires to help and make a difference, but then there’s the me that’s been at this for awhile that isn’t sure that’s realistic. I’d still work in law, but...I don’t know. I don’t know who would actually need me.”

He hums and tilts your head up. “Want some tea?”

“Yes please,” you smile softly as he stands up and reaches out a hand to help you up.

He peeks sheepishly at the glass and gestures for you to go sit on the couch.

“I’ll clean it up”

“Seriously though, Yoongi. My vase?”

“Honestly, I’ve been feeling the urge to push that off the table for a few days and I just used that as an excuse. I’ve also been eyeing the wine glass display, but I’ve held off since I actually use those,” he chuckled on his way to the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare. Bad Kitty.”

“Kinky,” he hums, then you hear the click of the electric kettle.

You wait in silence, exhausted after your outburst of emotion. Truthfully, it was probably long-due. A few minutes later Yoongi returns and hands you a mug full of lemon and ginger tea, blowing on his own mug as he settles in next to you.

“I had a thought,” he rumbles after taking a sip.

“Finally,” you snort, grinning when he pinches you.

“You never call in sick or go anywhere so you probably have a shit load of vacation time saved up, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I should have at least a couple weeks worth. I usually just cash out at the end of the year.”

“Take it. Let’s go on vacation. No sense killing yourself over a job you hate, and I want to spend some time with you.”

You sigh, leaning into Yoongi’s warmth. “Yeah, you’re right. Where shall we go?”

He shrugs. “Jeju? I don’t know. I don’t care as long as it’s somewhere with a nice bed and I get to see you in a bikini”

You pinch him and he laughs unapologetically.

“You know I love you right? No matter how much I’m away or if we are having some stupid fight - I love you,” you ask, your voice soft and a little shy.

He picks up your free hand and places a kiss on the back of it, squeezing it gently.

“I love you too, even when I’m being a brat or when you forget to pick up ice cream.”

“Wow, that’s deep.”

“What can I say?” he shrugs. “I’m a man of refined tastes.”

****

Notes:

Why are my cats always knocking shit off my counters?

Also, I had a few requests from people who wanted to send me fanart. You can email it to me at smirksslayme@gmail.com or tag me on here. I’d love to see it.

I think I have a twitter made but I can't remember it right now lmao. If anyone wants that I'll try to find it later.

[libbymodernpace]

The past 2 weeks I’ve been in frantic planning mode for Welcome to the (analog) Neighborhood. My to-do list keeps getting longer, no matter how many things I cross off....but trying to dial into the parts I love, manage the parts that are hard for me, and not get too panicked about everything.

The weekend is shaping up really well though. In addition to the Phonotel, I have planned 4 “Maps of Delights” tours that will lead to spots in the neighborhood where you can gather, hang out, relax, recreate- for free. One to the Library, one to Buchanan Park, one to Linear/Janice Stork Park, and one to the Wolf Museum. Each will have spots along the way to stop and notice- neighborhood delights and portals to other worlds (all found during my asset-mapping and surveying), spots where you can get free stuff from local businesses, and narrative delights (lines of short fiction displayed around.) I’ll also have analog cameras, records, a message-delivery service, activity guides, live music, a small parade...oh man, I’m getting stressed thinking about it now.

The parts I love- no surprise- are the art and design. I’ve been slowly turning the card catalog (which has been operating as a haiku machine for the past year) into a Palm Springs inspired retreat *for* and *from* your phone. A fresh coat of paint, new drawers for the rooms. Hoping to keep some of Matty’s cacti around to complete the vibe. I’ve created a new logo, printed FAQ sheets to give to partners, designed and printed promotional postcards to hand out, set up events and posts on social media, contacted the LNP and WITF events calendar with info, redesigned and rewrote the Phonotel Survival Guide, full of tips on how to survive out there without your device, and started to turn the Art Barter Mart drawers into the new CrashPad for tablets.

The harder parts for me- the project management and coordination- has been going well, too. Here are some wins:

I’ve connected with a bunch of businesses who have agreed to offer rewards to Phonotel participants- discounts, giveaways, fist bumps, stickers. 

Secured Street Beans brass band to do a set and lead a small parade around the block for Saturday, May 21 at 3pm

Reached out to neighbors, friends, organizations to talk about participating, and potentially volunteering, at the event. Started making schedules and coordinating job roles. 

Met with the Executive Director of the Library to discuss a Map of Delights that leads to the Library 

Working on press releases and press lists

Reached out to Write Now! A local writers group , McCaskey English teachers, and fellow PACE artist Jose of Teatro Paloma to submit short written pieces to the weekend’s Map of Narrative Delights. Super excited that Jose is interested in submitting a piece in Spanglish

Super excited about the enthusiasm and feedback I’ve gotten from neighbor’s who I’ve asked to post parts of the Narrative Delights in their windows or as yard signs. I have 25 locations lined up and now need to coordinate the spots with the words and the maps...it’s like a giant puzzle

Working with Reynolds Middle School staff to encourage students to participate, have them be a focus of one of the Maps of Delights, potentially doing a mapping workshop with students, and on translating materials into Spanish with the help of Srta Cruz. 

Researched costs, suppliers and purchased many of the things I need for the weekend: polaroid film, disposable cameras, wood for signage, paint, etc.

Found a local woodworker who offered to cut the signage for me

I am ignoring all of my other client work. It’s hard doing all of this, balancing everything. But I love it.