#business loan to buy hotel

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: Drinks with Mimzy

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable.]

[One shot, word count 1587. Cw: aphobia, alcoholism, cursing]

——————

The day after Lucifer’s visit, you went hunting. Not for souls or deals. Or…well one soul and in particular. And you didn’t intend to make a deal with this one. It took some time, checking various bars and clubs. You didn’t know which ones she was likely to frequent nowadays; being an Overlord didn’t give you much chance to go bar hopping with girlfriends.

So it wasn’t until early evening that you found her. Sitting at the bar, clearly tipsy, nursing another glass of whiskey, and bitching to the clearly annoyed bartender was Mimzy. You watched her finish her latest glass. “Gimme another one a these sugar.”

“Make that two, cher.” You came up next to Mimzy and slid a bill to the bartender. He looked even more annoyed at the idea of there being two whiny bitches at his bar but he got your drinks. “Thanks cher,” you said with a smile.

Mimzy glared at you. “Ugh, the fuck do you want?” It didn’t stop her from grabbing the drink you paid for.

“What, I can’t buy my friend a drink or five?” You expected hostility but damn. This seemed excessive. Fortunately you knew the way into her good graces: free drinks.

“Friends?!” she growled. “You come here saying we’re ‘friends’ after what your husband just pulled on me?!”

You sipped your whiskey, doing your best to let her fury wash over you. “From what I saw, Alastor pulled you out of yet another situation, and told you to take off because your problem trashed the place.”

“Like those sharks made much of a difference to that tacky joint. If anything I did you bastards a favor, free demolition.” She laughed nastily and finished her drink. You caught the bartender’s attention and nodded to Mimzy. You slid him another bill as he supplied her with another glass; it was high enough denomination to cover whatever she’d had already.

“Maybe you have a point, cher.” Not really, but you didn’t want her to close you out yet. You needed her less hostile, at least for now. “Here, let me treat you today Mimzy. Make it up to you.”

“Oh you know just how to butter me up doll.” The curvaceous blonde gladly accepted. If she owed 50 grand to loan sharks, doubtless she had tabs at every place in the city that sold alcohol. Which made up the majority of businesses in Hell.

You drank sparingly, just enough so she felt you were having a grand time together. You had the bartender keep supplying her refills; he seemed in a better mood now that someone else was dealing with the sloshed demon.

You let her bitch about everything in her afterlife and responded with soothing noises. In the end, you wanted to know how much shit she was in. This was the first time Alastor had sent her packing; you weren’t sure how she would react. You hadn’t missed the pink mark on her back on her shoulder blade. It hadn’t been there the last time you’d seen your old colleague.

Once she paused in her rambling, you asked about the mark. “I never expected you to get a tattoo, cher. What convinced you?”

The drinks and your apparent sympathy were enough to keep her talking, especially if it was something else to bitch about. “Ugh, that. Had to get it for work. One of the club owners works for someone that works for someone that works for one a’ the Sins. Greed’s head honcho.” She sipped her drink, starting to slow down as she got drunker. “The Sin bastard likes to mark any Sinners working for him, like some horny creep.” She downed the rest of her current whiskey.

“‘Course if you and your beau were properly grateful. I wouldn’t be dealing with this shit.” She pointed at you, empty glass in hand, her eyes looking unfocused and angry. The bartender moved to give her another drink but you made a cutting motion. This was the first time you heard anything of this.

“Grateful for what?” You asked, unable to help yourself. You honestly couldn’t remember what she could be talking about.

She looked at you, black and pink eyes wavering. “Fucking, of course!” You could only tilt your head. “Jesus Christ, it’s been a century and you’re still clueless? It ain’t cute anymore dollface.” Mimzy set her glass down harshly. “Sex, Y/N. S. E. X. If me and the gals hadn’t said anything, you and Alastor woulda never figured it out. You’d probably still be frigid little virgins in Hell.”

Your jaw dropped as you felt a cold spike in your core. You actually had to look down to make sure you hadn’t been stabbed. No, it was just words from someone you’d still thought of fondly. The alcohol didn’t excuse Mimzy; if anything it made her more honest.

Has she always felt like that? No… you remembered her saying she thought you and Alastor were good together. That she wanted you both to be happy. Somewhere in all those decades between then and now, things changed.

She was smirking as you processed all this, glad that she managed to hit you where it hurt evidently. In the way only people who are hurting can do, she kept pushing. But she didn’t realize what exactly hurt you. “You’re probably both terrible in bed too. Lemme guess, you just lay there while he tries to remember where to stick it?” Mimzy kept going as you stayed silent.

As her insults grew, the betrayal of a friend gave way to comedic disbelief. You started chuckling, then you were outright laughing, pounding your taloned fist on the counter. It was a good thing you had finished your drink because all the glasses around you jumped.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Your laughter finally got her stream of rudeness to stop. The indignant look on Mimzy's face just made you laugh harder, your feet kicking in glee.

“Oh, damn, I’m gonna pee myself. Fucking Hell Mimzy! Oh fuck, I needed that laugh.” You wheezed and took deep breaths until you could look at her reddened face without laughing. “Cher, you got one thing right; I still don’t understand all this nonsense about sex. Alastor still doesn’t either.

But that’s never mattered. I’ll never understand why you people think that’s so important to us. Maybe we wouldn’t have ever done it. I doubt that but we also would never have cared. You and so many others are so obsessed with sex that you can’t even imagine a relationship without it! It would be sad if it wasn’t so hilarious.”

Mimzy blinked at you, confusion, anger, and drunkenness warring in her expression. “Even now, you don’t get it! Cher, you insulting us about sex didn’t hurt. You’re a friend and my friend thinking I was stupid hurt.”

You ran your hand down your face. “Mimzy, cher, I’m just going to back up my darling here. If you want to redeem yourself, you’re welcome at the hotel. But don’t come calling otherwise. Especially if what’s his name, Mammon? The Greed Sin, comes after you. We’ll gift wrap you for him before we tussle with a Deadly Sin.”

Pulling the bartender aside, you paid for her outstanding tab, along with tonight’s drinks and a generous tip. “I paid your tab here, so you can call that payment for that talk years ago. Find me when you decide to not be a bitch.” You tucked one of your feathers into her headband. “Au revoir cher.”

Mimzy snatched the feather out and crushed it in her hands. “I don’t need you or him. I don’t need your hotel! I hope those angels kill all of you next Extermination Day, bitch!”

Back at the hotel, Alastor was in the parlor, listening to Charlie’s plans for her visit to Heaven. “Soooooo, how did it go?” he asked in a sing-song tone once he spotted you. You’d told him your plan to find Mimzy before leaving.

“As well as could be expected. I don’t think she’ll bother us anymore. I told her we’d gift wrap her for whoever came looking if she tried something like yesterday again.”

“Hmm, but that would be such a waste of good gift wrap.”

Later that night, in your suite, you went into more detail about your conversation. You were on Alastor’s lap, venting your hurt and tears. “I know she’s gotten worse in Hell, that she’s been using you, but I thought she was still our friend.” He let you get it all out, handkerchief at the ready when you were.

“I thought so as well, cher,” he said quietly. “I hate to admit it but Husk pointed it out to me. We can’t have her interfering though.”

“No,” you said simply, drying your eyes.

Alastor looked down at you, that sharp edged smile just a bit softer than usual. “I think I know what can help you for now, my dear.” With that he stood you both up and started humming, a question in his eyes. Your voice felt a bit hoarse from crying but you hummed along, practice making you harmonize. Then he swept you into a dance.

After a few numbers, you felt up to singing. The two of you danced until you were tired (Alastor probably could have kept going but he didn’t have an emotionally stressful day). That night you fell asleep in his arms, glad you’d married someone that understood you like he did.

——————

A/N: this is more than a little self indulgent on my part. My frustrations with aphobes knows no bounds. Kinda prompted after discussion with a therapist concerning aphobia and the nonsense acespec people deal with. Never forget how valid you are. 💜🤍🩶🖤 💚🤍🩶🖤 Cheers darlings!

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

[biteofcherry]

You were broke. Completely and utterly broke. Student loans were crumbling down in you and your part time job at McDonald's wasn't paying the bills anymore. Your parents had given up on you and wanted you to get married after school but you wanted to go to college and thus there was no familial support.

After a lot of contemplation and swallowing your pride. You took up the offer of your friend and tried to get a sugar daddy. She gave you ticket to a place and luckily for you. The event host took a liking to you. He was the richest of them all but also dangerous. You knew he had some shady businesses in the back and most people feared him because of that as well. But you didn't care, as long as he gave you money.

However, to your horror, you came to know that your ticket was exchanged with another lady and this was not a place to find a sugar daddy, but the host wanted a wife.

You profusely apologized to him and tried to get away but he had made up his mind. He wanted you and he was going to marry you. Whether you wanted it or not.

After all, what could be your needs that won't get fulfilled by marrying a rich man rahte than being his sugar baby? Right?

Katie, don't think I forgot about this little gem you sent me! I read it on my train ride, when you sent it and saved it to properly reply when I return 🩷

I do agree that while it was shocking to find out the mistake, it is quite a promotion. In the good way. You still get to be sugar baby, but called wife and with a ring on your finger and a husband to dote on you. Even if he is intense at times, even if he towers over you and likes to corner you as you still try to rebel against some of his decisions 😎

But you can't help the way your pupils widen and your lips part, when he proves to you that you're most eager to follow his lead not because he spoils you financially, but because he plays your body like a maestro does an instrument.

As well because he's attentive and notices the things about you that many men often ignored, or didn't appreciate.

And he will prove it every day and night on your honeymoon - showing you the most beautiful places; keeping you in luxurious villas and hotels; buying you new wardrobe and jewelry; delighting in the way you enjoy food and treats; and obviously making you scream and sob as he fucks you into compliance...

and has you softly snuggled to him on the flight home, smiling to himself in triumph when you start responding to the flight crew calling you Mrs. Barnes.

[nyaagolor]

The software I use at work is Not Working and I have an hour to kill before I can go home so here’s some HCs about assorted characters’ living situations bc I wanted to make notes for myself for fic purposes:

Phoenix: Used to live in a regular apartment, but moved into the apartment above Wright and Co Law offices with Trucy after his disbarment. Edgeworth paid off the building’s mortgage after Turnabout Goodbyes so Phoenix doesn’t have to worry about rent

Edgeworth: Owns a penthouse in LA. He rents hotel penthouse suites while in Europe but doesn’t have a permanent one anywhere other than LA because he thinks it’s a hassle. There’s a locked room in the LA penthouse filled with Steel Samurai merch

Gumshoe: Rents the shittiest basement studio you have ever seen. Does not own a bed. Genuinely questionable if the building is up to code (it’s prolly not)

Maya: Lived in Kurain Village until Mia’s death, then moved into the apartment above the office. After BttT she moves back to Kurain

Pearl: Lived in Kurain until her mother’s incarceration, then moved in with Maya in the upstairs apartment, then back to Kurain with Maya after BttT

Mia: Lived in Kurain Village until she founded Fey and Co law offices with Diego, at which point they moved into the apartment upstairs together until her death

Diego: Lived in a regular LA apartment until he founded Fey and Co with Mia. They moved into the upstairs apartment together until his coma. When he wakes from the coma he spends about half a year recovering in the hospital, then throughout AA3 just loiters around the courthouse because he refuses to speak to Phoenix. After BttT he goes to prison and moves in with Maya and Pearl in Kurain Village after his release

Franziska: Technically lives in the von Karma estate with her mother and sister, but is so busy traveling that she mostly stays in hotels. She used to spend holidays there, but Edgeworth has taken to inviting her to stay with him because she's not very close with the rest of her family, so now her room is mostly just storage.

Ema: Her and Lana lived in their parents’ house together until Lana’s imprisonment, during which Ema moves to Europe with an exchange family. When Ema returns from Europe, she moves back into the house with Lana joining her when she’s released

Apollo: He lived on the road with Thalassa and Jove until the latter’s death, then with Dhurke in the countryside, then in an American orphanage until he was 18, at which point I imagine he crashes on Clay’s couch for most of law school because he is technically an orphaned illegal immigrant with absolutely no money or credit. The internship with Kristoph and his job with the WAA gets him enough money to actually rent a place, but his lack of documentation and student loans mean he’s in the cheapest possible apartment. He keeps it extremely neat but there's only so much one can do. He and gumshoe can commiserate about it.

Trucy: Lived mostly on the road / in the tourbus + hotels with her dad and the troupe until she was adopted by Phoenix, at which point she moved into the apartment above the WAA

Klavier: Lived in his parents’ mansion with Kristoph until going to Themis. When he moved back he had enough money from gigging / his band to buy a fancy ass house and still lives there. It’s a little lonely by himself but when he let Daryan throw parties there it was POPPIN

Kristoph: Lived in his parents’ mansion his entire life. He got ownership of it when they died and raised Klavier in it, and continued to live there until he got arrested. Now he’s cushy in solitary cell 13

Athena: Lived in the space center then was shipped off to European relatives when her mom died. When she moved back to the states she got a decent apartment bc her WAA income was supplemented by those rich as hell European relatives

Simon: Lived in a small apartment with his sister growing up, which he continued to live in after she moved to the Space Center. It was sold when he was incarcerated. After his release he moved in with Athena briefly (no one thought it was a good idea for him to live alone) then to a small but nice apartment, which Edgeworth paid for until he could get back on his feet financially

[honeybadgercomeback]

Come Back, Be Here (Part One) | DR3

Five years pass in the blink of an eye and you’ve sacrificed so much to support the man you love. But you can’t keep doing it. When you make the decision to end things you have to carry through to find who you are again.

AN: Part two will be up in the next couple of days. If you’d like to be notified leave a comment and I’ll tag you!

Warnings: heavy angst, breakups, lying.

—

The day you made your decision was really just the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was more hotel rooms, more planes, more lines added to your flight tracking app. You’d travelled around the world more than twice already in the year and it was only August.

You’d end up at yet another race track where you’d had your photo taken more times than you could count. Those professional photos that you were never happy with got posted to instagram accounts run by people who claimed they knew who you were and what you stood for. To yet more flights and more frequent flier miles than you ever thought anyone could have. Planning flights based on airline rather than price to keep earning them, your permanent status just increasing. First class tickets you never could afford to every location, sitting in airline lounges and smiling when people came up to Daniel to wish him luck or ask for a photo.

And every few months you got dressed up for one event or another. A gala, a charity, some sponsor party because everyone wanted to see “Daniel Ricciardo’s other half”. Getting dressed up in a dress you didn’t buy and jewellery that was loaned to you by designers. Standing on a red carpet with your fiancé’s arm around you as he gave that familiar wide grin and you played the fawning date.

You hated every single moment of it, and you didn’t know when you’d started hating it.

It was all for Daniel, and you loved him so you did everything that was asked. You did the busy days and the ridiculous travel. Ignored the hate comments on every single photo you posted on your instagram account - even a photo of the cake you’d baked for a friend’s birthday got comments about how it didn’t look good. You used Twitter Circles and Close Friends judiciously on social media, all of your accounts with that familiar blue tick because you were a “public figure”.

Instead of taking the first choice job you wanted to have you’d declined it because it was in an office five days a week. You’d taken the one you didn’t want as much because it was flexible work and you could do it from anywhere in the world so you got to travel with Dan. You made it to every race on the calendar with him, a fixture in the back of the garage of whatever team he was racing with. You’d wear his merch and have headphones on to listen to the team radio as he raced. Wherever he went, you followed because you were The Ricciardos and of course you were there. The engagement ring that had been on your left hand for eighteen months just proved it.

But you still saw what people said whenever you were in the paddock. How people made snide comments about your job because you were always there, and if you weren’t in McLaren hospitality waiting on Dan you were in Red Bull with Kelly. You were friendly with the other wives and girlfriends of drivers, you’d been there the second longest now. You were the one who was at every race, and when women came for the first time with their now public relationship you were the one who welcomed them to the chaos. And set up the new whatsapp groups whenever they were needed. You blamed Pierre for how many you needed most of the time really.

It was you and Kelly as the focal point of the group. Your partners were best friends, you got along and knew what was going on, it was a natural fit. You could put the smile on and grin and hug, helping everyone keep their head up high. When a crash happened you’d seek out whoever needed comfort and remind them of the safety that was there now. It fit you well.

But you were drowning in it.

August was supposed to be the summer break but Dan was in Woking for yet more McLaren meetings. He’d told you it was normal, part of the organisation for the third year of his contract. You were plugged into the paddock gossip, you knew what was being said, how people talked about your fiancé. The way people talked about how Dan was getting what was coming to him, a new young Australian taking over from the washed out one. The way Blake looked at you sadly, as if he was barely biting his tongue, every time someone mentioned contracts or gossip.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You were supposed to be in love, be loved. Racing would always be Daniel’s first love but you could fit in there somewhere with him. Be a priority for him. Except you weren’t his priority anymore. The fact that your fifth anniversary came and went without him acknowledging it or even texting you a hello. That was the crystal clear moment that whatever you wanted was not a priority compared to his career, and you deserved better than that. You deserved to be more than an afterthought.

Once the decision was made it was easy to organise moving out. Finding an apartment in Nice was the first thing to do and it was shockingly easy. Monaco was out, the streets too small and filled with memories. Once you were settled in an apartment you could look at a new job or new country, but away from the principality was enough for now. Then it was packing up your life.

Most of your belongings were presents from Daniel. It had become his habit to try pay for everything, the income disparities clear between you. It was with the kindest of intentions but had become a gilded cage that you couldn’t escape. You didn’t know who you yourself were anymore. You didn’t know how to be anyone except F1 WAG. Daniel Ricciardo’s fiancée. The woman with so many gossip column inches it felt wrong. The Daily Mail had a category for your name at this point and that was never who you wanted to be. You’d lost yourself and you needed to find yourself again.

You got the train to Nice and signed your month to month lease for a furnished apartment. It was unusual to have one, but the letting agent recognised your face and accepted it without a moment’s thought. Once it was signed your next stop was to rent a car to bring your belongings to the small apartment.

It was simple and you had a plan. Pack your boxes of your belongings, put them in the car, drive. It took two trips to get most of them over, the final set sitting there until you decided to leave for the final time.

You had to tell Daniel in person. He deserved to have his heart broken in front of you, rather than by phone or text. He was good and loyal and he wasn’t a bad guy, this just didn’t work anymore. He deserved someone who could support him fully. It wasn’t something you could keep doing.

You sat in the living room after getting the text that he’d landed in Nice, knowing that this was the last time. You weren’t going to see him again and that hurt. You were leaving for good and never coming back here. Your engagement ring was in the green leather jewellers box he’d proposed with, sitting on what had been your bedside locker. Taking it off your finger and pushing it into the velvet cushion was when you’d shed your first tear. It was small and neat and exactly what you’d wanted, and you’d loved it from the moment he flipped the box open. Asses online had said it wasn’t enough for a millionaire’s fiancée, that you obviously didn’t mean much to him.

You didn’t want the ring or the money. You wanted Daniel. But you couldn’t have him in a way that would make you both happy.

“I’m home!” His voice echoed around the living room as he arrived in, dropping bags on the floor and you pulled him in for a hug. This was the last one you’d share and doing this when you knew things weren’t good for him professionally hurt but you had to. You couldn’t lose more of yourself.

“Hey. How was the factory?”

“Good. We need to talk about some of my—“

“Dan, I know.” He stopped still at your words. “But we need to talk about something else.”

“I’ve got a couple of offers on the table, and we’ll be—“

“Daniel.” Your voice was soft and he stared at you. His brown eyes opened wide and it felt like he was properly seeing you for the first time in what felt like years. He looked like that Daniel you’d fallen in love with in 2017, a Red Bull star with a wide smile and wild curls. You hadn’t know what you were jumping into when you danced with the man in the nightclub and went home with him. You couldn’t have guessed how your life would change. That the next five years would be the best and worst of your life and he made the highs even higher but the lows so much lower. He made everything better and worse at the same time. He took you in fully and you could tell when his eyes caught the missing jewellery.

“Where’s your ring? Were…were you robbed? What’s going on?” They were halfhearted questions as you shook your head and the reality began to sink into him.

“You know as well as I do that this isn’t working. And I’m so sorry things are ending now. But we…it’s the wrong time for us. I can’t love you the way you need and you can’t support me the way that I need. I’m sorry.”

He looked at you for a solid minute in the silence, it was as if you could see his heart break.

“But we love each other?” That it was a question cut you like a knife.

“I don’t think it’s enough. I’m not enough for you.” It was those words that made his face crumble and you took a step back, looking down at the tiled floor. You couldn’t cry. You were the one hurting him, you didn’t get to cry in front of him.”

“You are. I swear you’re enough. You’re more than enough.”

“Be happy, Daniel Ricciardo. Be happy.”

All you wanted to do was squeeze his hand and take the pain away but you couldn’t. Instead you slipped past him in your worn out sneakers and left through the front door, closing it with a gentle click.

The routine to leave the building was practiced. A few steps to the elevator, down the floors, and out. Except this time you were going to the parking garage in the basement to get the rental car and leave, and for the first time in so long someone else got into the elevator a few floors below what had been yours.

“Hey, I haven’t…is everything ok?” Max looked at your tear streaked face as you blinked back the worst ones, wiping your face roughly with your hand.

“Will you look after him for me? He’s gonna need you now.” It took a few moments for your words to sink in as he stared at you.

“What happened? Did you have a fight? You know he’ll be down in a minute to fix whatever he did, he loves you.”

“I ended things.” The shock on his face was clear as the doors shut to bring you both down. “I ended things about two minutes ago, and he’ll need his friends. I know I’ve no right to ask this, but please. Look after him for me.”

“You can work this out. Come up to ours, stay with us for a night. Think this over.”

“Max I have. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. He forgot our anniversary and that was the final thing. He deserves someone who can support him the way he needs, and that’s not me right now. He deserves to be happy. I can’t help him be happy. Just please. You and Seb and Estie can help him. I can’t.”

You’d arrived in the garage and Max watched you step out of the elevator with him, heading to the small hatchback that stood out in the area filled with sports cars.

“Where are you going?”

“I got an apartment. I’m going to find out who I am. It’ll be worth it.”

You didn’t expect the Dutchman to wrap you in a hug but he pulled you close, squeezing for a moment before letting go.

“If you need anything. Day or night, no matter where in the world I am, you call ok? You’re like a sister to me, call me whenever you need. And Kelly will be in touch soon to see you, P is gonna miss her aunt.”

“I will.” It was a bare faced lie but it made him look lighter so you told it easily. As far as you were concerned you weren’t going to see them again.

Once you made it into Nice and parked you picked up your phone, pulling up the Find my iPhone app. It took far too few swipes to hide your location from Dan and Kelly, making sure they couldn’t see you. Once you did that you went into the WAG WhatsApp, this one entitled “oh god they’re home for two weeks what’s this chaos”. It took little time to set Kelly as an admin and then leave the chat with a waving emoji and a red heart.

The very last thing to do was to go into an Orange shop and get a new SIM card with a new number. You snapped the old SIM between your fingertips to get rid of it. It was over. You had your new fresh start but it didn’t feel like one.

Part Two

Tags: @vroomvroommbtch

[capricornlevi]

professional obligations - osamu miya x reader

summary: attending your neighbourhood's annual business awards ceremony is not exactly your idea of an ideal night out. however, the owner of a shop a few doors down from your cafe makes an appearance and, to your surprise, you end up liking him quite a bit. timeskip osamu x reader.

cw: explicit sexual content, consumption of alcohol

NSFW, 18+ - MDNI - MINORS and AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 5.9k

“Champagne?” 

The waiter holds out the silver tray with a polite smile and no judgment in his eyes, so you take two of the flutes without thinking twice about it. You’ll need some liquid courage if you have any hope of sticking this out to the end. 

If you had any other place to be on this Saturday night then you likely wouldn’t be here right now, in a mid-range hotel ballroom, attending the 25th Annual Local Small Business & Restaurant Awards ceremony with absolutely no connections to help you break the ice, and without a date by your side to keep you company. 

You knock back half a glass of champagne with a grimace, hoping the waiter isn’t offended; your expression has nothing to do with the refreshments. 

The champagne is actually quite delightful. 

Thankfully, he’s moved on to serve the table next to you and so he doesn’t notice. You spot him chatting with the co-owners of a successful flower shop located across the street from your café, congratulating them on their win. You seem to be the only person having difficulty with small-talk this evening. 

Your table has mostly been cleared except for a few coats and handbags draped over the backs of empty chairs. You watch as the guests mingle on the ballroom floor, showing off their medals and trophies and certificates. 

Your own award sits proudly next to your place card – a small golden trophy bearing the name of your coffee shop, with “INDEPENDENT CAFÉ OF THE YEAR” written in tiny but perfectly-engraved letters at the base.

It’s silly. Just a trivial little token. After tomorrow’s celebratory post on the café’s Instagram account, you’ll likely forget all about it. 

It’s silly, meaningless, but you feel proud nonetheless. You smile to yourself, allowing a moment of indulgence as you reflect upon your journey.

Running your own business hasn’t been easy. 

It all started five years ago when you were fresh out of university, burdened with student loans and with absolutely no plans for the future, and so you took up a job as a barista in a locally-run café to pay the bills. You had zero barista experience and could barely prepare toast successfully, let alone the intricate pastries that the café was known for, but the elderly owner took a liking to you and gave you a chance to learn from her. Her wisdom and experience were unmatched. 

Surprisingly, you found yourself loving almost every part of the job - baking in the tiny kitchen, brewing the coffee, chatting to customers - and just one year after joining you were promoted to supervisor. Business was never better than with you in charge and so you climbed up the ranks quickly, and when the owner retired three years later, she offered you the right of first refusal in buying the place.

It seemed ridiculous at first. You were twenty-five, had no experience in the behind-the-scenes aspects of running a business, and still had most of your loans to pay off. Even though your heart soared at the idea of making the café your own, it just didn’t seem realistic. 

However the owner, only wanting to earn enough from the sale to retire comfortably, set the asking price far lower than what was typical for this area. It was still a big commitment, but it was one that you couldn’t refuse. As a result, you were able to secure a small business loan from the bank and, with your mentor’s blessing, started a complete rebrand of the café the moment your signature was on the dotted line.

The café soon became remarkably popular. It went from being a hidden gem that people tended to stumble upon by accident to a bustling local hotspot, reviewed in countless travel guides and magazines.

Word-of-mouth did the rest of the publicity for you. You only use fresh, local ingredients in your baked goods and the finest coffee beans for your beverages, and the steady line of customers outside the café every morning shows how your efforts are appreciated.

The award helps, too.

Setting aside your awkward reluctance to mingle, you suppose this evening hasn’t been a total waste. You allow yourself this moment of pride in your achievement.

“Best café, huh?” a voice calls out from over your shoulder, and you turn to face the person speaking. “Not surprised, to be honest. I had ya pegged to win it from the beginning.” 

Standing to your left-hand side is Osamu Miya.

Osamu Miya, the owner of what is soon-to-be a chain of beloved onigiri businesses, is shooting a lop-sided smile in your direction, making your face heat for reasons you don’t quite understand. 

He’s wearing a shirt and tie - business formal, as the dress code stipulated - but his suit jacket is slung over his arm, the top button of his shirt is undone, and his dark hair is a bit more dishevelled than it was when delivering his acceptance speech onstage.

You just stare at him for a moment. 

He’s standing here as if you were expecting to see him, praising you so earnestly and seemingly without any ulterior motives. You’re very confused as to why he’s doing this. 

You’ve spoken to him all of twice in your life; the first of which was to place an order at his shop to see if it was worth the hype (it was), and the second time was when you knocked on his door to ask him to sign a petition for new parking regulations to be implemented in the neighbourhood. Both conversations were brief and civil and very unexciting.

You don’t know him at all. To be honest, the only thing you have in common is that your café is three doors down from his flagship store. 

And to be even more honest, a tiny part of you has been quite jealous of him for a while now.

You wish you didn’t feel this way. No part of you wants to begrudge anyone’s success — it’s not that he doesn’t work hard, he really does, you’ve seen as much from the countless times you’ve passed his shop on the way to work — but he just manages it all so effortlessly. His shop has been open for only ten months now and he’s already expanded to two new locations. He gets more publicity and acclaim than you’ve seen from any other business at this event, and every afternoon you see how the queue for his place doubles that of yours. 

He has been honoured with no less than four awards for Onigiri Miya  - Best Casual Dining, Best Newcomer, Most Popular Promotional Campaign, and the coveted Small Business of the Year prize - and the only times you’ve spotted him over the course of the evening have been while he’s on stage collecting a trophy or when he’s surrounded by people congratulating him on his success.

He seems perfectly nice, but some dark part of your brain worries that he’s just here to rub it in. He’s received fawning praise from pretty much every other person here – maybe he wants you to do the same?

Worst of all, you know he doesn’t mean what he said about anticipating your win tonight. He’s never even been to your café. 

This is especially hurtful considering you bought not one, not two, but three onigiris when you visited his shop, yet he hasn’t bothered to even try a shot of espresso.

How rude. 

He must notice the way you tense up, your lips pulling together tight, but his smile doesn’t falter even for a moment.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks, gesturing to the one beside you. Up until twenty minutes ago, it was occupied by an overly-chatty local councilman who hogged all the red wine and kept making jokes at his opponents’ expense, but from the way he suddenly sprinted outside while on the phone with his campaign manager, you doubt he’ll be returning anytime soon. 

You shake your head and watch as Osamu takes a seat by your side. 

“Some event, huh?” he observes conversationally, as if you two have known each other for years. “I kinda figured it’d be boring as shit, but an open bar fixes all that, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you repeat back to him. 

Your delivery isn’t exactly rude - even as jealousy rears its ugly head, the rational side of you knows that none of this is really his fault - but any observer could see that you’re not returning his enthusiasm at all. You’re barely smiling, nodding along just to be polite, clearly distracted.  

Still, he perseveres.

“And hey, thanks for gettin’ that petition started, by the way,” he carries on, “I’m sure ya saw already, but it’s helped business on the street like nothin’ I ever saw before.”

Damn, he’s good at this. You feel your defences drop, the hostility evaporating from your system with every word that comes from his mouth. 

Still, you don’t want to give in. He’s surely here just to pad his own ego, right? What other business would he have talking to someone who he barely knows?

“Yeah?” you prompt, testing his resolve. You look his way, trying to gauge his reaction – if he’s lying, you’ll surely catch him out now. “You think so?”

Osamu nods thoughtfully, the very picture of sincerity, and passes your test with flying colours.

“Hundred percent. It wouldn’t’ve gotten anywhere if ya hadn’t put the time in. I’m only sorry I didn’t get to help ya a bit more.”

Oh, shit. You’re smiling now. You didn’t do it consciously and you’re not even sure when it started, but it’s happening. You can’t seem to stop it.

“No problem. I’m glad it worked out,” you concede, taking another sip of the champagne – finishing the champagne, would be more accurate. You hadn’t realised how quickly you knocked back that last glass.

Osamu seems to have had a few glasses, too, judging by the pink blush that’s dusting his cheekbones. 

It looks sort of nice, actually. 

Both the blush and his … face, in general. 

Woah. That development takes you by surprise. 

Osamu leans back in the chair, looking at you in a way that makes you worry you’ve been found out, but his expression doesn’t betray anything other than a fond curiosity. 

“Wanna go for another?” he asks, gesturing at the empty flute in your hand. “A drink, I mean?”

You glance around the room, trying to find the friendly waiter with the tray of champagne. You can’t see him, can’t see anyone offering glasses to the crowd – the crowd which has thinned out considerably since you last checked, leaving only half the attendees standing around. It must be later than you thought. 

“I can’t see any servers … I don’t think they have any more champagne.”

Osamu flushes.

“I … uh, didn’t mean from here.”

He - what?

You set the glass back down on the table a bit too quickly, hoping the gesture doesn’t come across as hostile. 

“I just meant … this place is gettin’ a little tired,” he explains, his delivery remarkably confident considering the blush has reached the tips of his ears. “There’s a bar just down the street if ya wanted to go fer a nightcap or somethin’?”

Your grin is back, and you blame the champagne for the words that slip out next. 

“Getting tired of your adoring public?”

Osamu clutches his chest in mock offence. “You’re tellin’ me ya don’t adore me?”

It’s getting really difficult to pretend you have no interest in talking to this man. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you flipped, how you want to say yes to his request right now. You want to go for a drink with him. You want to keep the conversation going, to maybe find out he’s not as cocky and self-assured as you originally assumed. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking things over.

“I might not adore you,” you begin, laughing when he pretends to slump down in his chair with despair, “yet, anyway,” and he sits up straighter, encouraged, “but I will go for a drink with you, if that helps things?”

“That’ll do fer now,” he agrees, holding out a hand to help you up after you’ve grabbed your award from the table and slipped it carefully into your handbag. “As long as we get out of here before the mayor’s staff try to corner us again.”

You cast him an amused glance. “I thought you said this was a good night?”

“Yeah, it was, when the bar tab was still open,” he scoffs. “I couldn’t subject ya to their lecture about fuckin’ urban sanitation without at least one drink in your hand.” 

Once you’re on your feet, he lets go of your hand and turns to fetch his jacket and his own awards from his table, promising to be back in just a second. 

You take a few moments during his absence to try and process this whole thing, willfully ignoring the pang of disappointment you feel at the loss of his touch. 

This is … weird. Not ten minutes ago you were sitting alone, proud of your victory but still sulking a little, feeling an embarrassingly childish resentment for the star of tonight’s show, Osamu Miya.

But now he’s after ruining the whole thing by walking to your table, charming you out of your self-imposed isolation, and making you kind of … like him. 

And you’re leaving this event to go for a drink with him. Just the two of you. Alone. Since that’s the perfect way to commemorate the third conversation you’ve shared together, apparently. 

Your mind starts to race. Are you friends now? Is he going to start stopping by the café in the mornings? Will he expect you to do the same?

Maybe this is too much too fast. You start to have second thoughts, instinctually racking your brain for a decent excuse to bail out. 

But then you see Osamu approach you again, his tie loose around his neck and smile still so infectious, and all those anxious thoughts disappear … only to be replaced by more exciting, more confusing ones. 

Seeing him now, he’s taller than you remembered - broader, too, as shown by the way his shirt tightens against his chest as he moves - and his features more striking, with his grey eyes capturing your attention in a way you’d never noticed before. 

Your integrity is taking a serious hit tonight.

Still … you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just a little bit curious as to how things will play out from here. 

___

The bar that Osamu takes you to is surprisingly cosy. You’re not sure why, but you had expected something lavish - this is an expensive neighbourhood, after all - but this seems to be more of a family-run establishment, small and contained, with an open fireplace and candle-lit lamps providing most of the visibility.

The wall is lined with booths and cushioned seats, only a few of which are occupied, and the music is playing through an old vinyl player perched on the bar counter.

You much prefer this to one of the busier, fancier cocktail bars that have popped up on this street. 

The bartender waves at you both as you walk inside, clearly recognising your companion as he gives him a friendly greeting. You take a seat in a booth by the corner as Osamu goes to place the drinks order. 

Once he returns with two beers in hand you stop nervously fidgeting with a loose napkin on the table, instead choosing to lean back in the chair to appear more settled.  

You smile, thanking him for the drink. 

Osamu takes his seat but doesn’t even get to take a sip of his beer before his phone starts to ring.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, grabbing the phone and turning down the call. “I’ll mute it.”

“You sure?” you ask in a way that’s almost teasing, prompting a grin and a shake of his head. “It could be urgent – it could be about another award.”

“You’re tryin’ to embarrass me in my favourite bar?” he asks, as close to deadpan as you think he can get. “After I got my hopes up you were startin’ to adore me?”

You chuckle and shrug, trying the beer yourself. It’s nice – from a local brewery you hadn’t tried before. He has better taste than you’d thought. 

“That was my brother callin’,” Osamu explains with a roll of his eyes as he says the word brother. “Dumbass is playin’ abroad right now - well, the game is over, so he’s technically celebratin’ - and he doesn’t have any concept of time or schedules.”

“I mean, you’re out drinking too,” you observe, prompting another dramatic eye roll. 

“He doesn’t have to know that part!” Osamu objects, sliding his phone into his pocket and leaning back in his seat. Another heart-melting smile. “Plus, I’ve got company. That’s where I wanna keep my focus, not on whatever shitty drunken singalong ‘Tsumu’s gonna try an’ start again if I pick up his call.” 

Your face heats. At this point, you’ve given up all attempts at staying resentful.

Which reminds you of something you’ve completely forgotten to tell him. 

“Congratulations, by the way. I never said it earlier – four awards, very impressive,” you say, finding that against all odds, you actually mean it. 

“Thanks,” he beams, running a hand through his hair. “But it shoulda just been three, to be honest.”

You frown, confused. Osamu was the frontrunner for every award he was nominated for tonight, and you hadn’t taken his modesty to be that extreme. “What do you mean?”

He catches your gaze, almost as if he hopes the point will come across through eye contact alone; when it doesn’t, he clarifies;

“You shoulda won Small Business of the Year.”

Your resulting laugh nearly makes you choke on your beer. It’s flattering - sweet, really - and now that you have more faith in his intentions, you can appreciate the gesture. 

But you’re also a realist. That award was one you knew you weren’t walking away with tonight. “C’mon-”

“I mean it!” he objects.

“Miya, I know you’re being nice, but you opened two new shops this year alone. And hey, don’t get me wrong, I did fine. But I didn’t get nearly as much business as you did over the summer.”

“Firstly, call me Osamu,” he retorts, his expression showing that he’s clearly having a lot of fun with this. He pauses as he brings the glass of beer to his lips. “And secondly, I’m not just being nice – I voted for ya.”

You blink at him for a moment, heart fluttering in your chest as you process the admission. 

It doesn’t seem like he’s lying. He doesn’t sound like he’s lying. Still, you’re baffled – there were dozens of businesses on the shortlist for the award, and you can’t imagine Osamu Miya putting your name above all the others. 

Mostly because he’s never even set foot in your door.

“I - uh, thank you, Osamu.”

He laughs. “You look confused.”

“Well, I am a little,” you admit, not even sure of where to start. “I appreciate it, but I just … have you ever tried my coffee? I mean, it’s completely fine if you haven’t, I’ve just never seen you-”

“I get it every day.”

You freeze, expression shifting from confused to utterly taken aback. “What?”

“I put in a mobile order every day, around eleven in the morning. I’m usually busy in the kitchen at that point, so one of the sales assistants collects it and I give them the order number.”

Same order, same time every day …

“Shit!” you exclaim, suddenly putting it all together. You set your glass back down and clap your hands together, lifting them to your mouth as if you’ve just solved some complex mystery. “You’re the one who buys all my lemon cake!”

He shakes his head — no malice in the gesture, his grey eyes twinkling with amusement. “Is that a question or an accusation?” 

“Definitely an accusation,” you answer, knowing without a shred of doubt that your assumption is correct. Of course, this also means that Osamu is telling the truth about his consistent ordering, but you’ll unpack that in a moment. “Every day I get an order around that time – the drinks change every now and then, but they always order a slice of lemon loaf cake. Always.”

“And yet, no loyalty programme for the cakes,” he sighs, “I get every seventh coffee free, but no stamps for the cake. Just heartbreakin’.” 

“I’ll take your suggestion on board,” you acknowledge with a soft laugh, thinking back to how long those orders have been coming in and how many slices of cake that must equal - a lot, if your addition is anyway correct - and feel this pleasant, warm feeling flood your chest. 

Guilt also starts to tug at you, but you can’t see the sense of dwelling on that emotion for too long. 

Not when Osamu’s here, looking at you like that, professing his admiration for you not just as a business owner and an equal, but as a purveyor of baked goods as well. 

The least you can do is buy the next round. 

Two beers later and the conversation drifts back to the topic of work, but in a different way than before. This time, it’s more vulnerable; the struggles of getting started in the hospitality industry, the insecurities of your line of work, and how the ever-changing nature of the city landscape means your business plan might change overnight. 

“I guess I, uh, kinda worry sometimes,” he admits quietly, looking down at the table and tracing circles on his glass with his thumb. “About this whole thing, runnin’ it by myself.” 

“Worry about what?” you ask, hoping your question comes across as reassuring and not outright dismissive. “Your place is the busiest on the street from what I’ve seen. Definitely the most stable business at the event tonight.” 

“Thanks,” he replies, eyes flickering up to yours again. His lips quirk upwards when you meet his gaze.  “‘I ‘spose I just worry that it’s more from … name recognition, than anythin’ else. And I don’t like that.”

“Name recognition?” you inquire. “From your brother?” 

He nods. “Tsumu’s - well, he’s not a celebrity, exactly, but he’s well-known around here, as much as it kills me to admit it,” he says with the ghost of a smile. “And I guess I just … don’t want people to be comin’ to my shop out of some sort of sympathy. Like they think I’m only runnin’ the place because I couldn’t make it in volleyball.” 

Before you can think things through, before your brain can slow your muscles down and offer you the chance to think sensibly, you reach a hand over to rest on top of one of his. He doesn’t acknowledge it with words, but he lets go of his glass and rests the hand down on the table so you can properly clasp it. 

He continues speaking before either of you has to address the impromptu hand-holding.

“And I know it’s stupid, right? Cos hey, as long as business is comin’ in, it makes no sense to complain. But yeah … that’s the worry, I guess.”

“I’ve never met anyone who thinks that about you, Osamu,” you say softly, ignoring the thrumming of your heart in your ribcage as you feel his fingers intertwine with yours. “And I certainly don’t, anyway. You’re just a talented guy who puts in a hell of a lot of hard work.”

He smiles again. “Is that why you’ve gone all mushy on me? Ya like my work ethic?”

“Shut up,” you scoff, a little petulantly, “being nice to you isn’t mushy.”

“I’m a fan of mushy,” he clarifies, tracing slow circles on the back of your hand, “if that helps things.”

It does, and you show him as much by tugging on his hand, tilting your head towards the door to show your intentions. 

Osamu pays the bar tab while you collect your things. A taxi is called, goodbyes are said to the bar staff, and for the second time tonight, you leave together. 

Though this time, you know exactly how it’s going to go.

___

Osamu’s hands on your waist are careful but firm, pushing you back against the door as soon as it closes behind you. 

The ride to his place was only ten minutes long - all of which was spent making out like desperate teenagers in the back of the taxi - and now that you have some privacy and space to yourselves, you’re not sure how you can last even a second without touching him. 

You can’t imagine a better kiss, and then he gives you a better one just moments later. 

You arch into him, feeling him groan against your lips, looping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest against him to feel as close as possible. 

The kiss goes from languid and passionate to heated and messy, and you let out a whimper when his tongue meets yours, licking into your mouth as you keen almost pathetically. 

The varnished wood of the door feels cold against your shoulder blades and you shiver. Osamu notices, resting a hand on your nape to pull you towards him. 

You fist your hands into the crisp fabric of his shirt. He smells incredible, clean and fresh, and you want to make his hair look even more dishevelled than it did after he ran his hand through it at the bar. What started as him trying to guide you away from the door has now turned into something that would be more accurately described as grinding — his hips are flush against yours, and you feel so desperately empty that you start to rock back and forth almost involuntarily. 

“Do ya wanna-“ he mumbles into the shell of your ear once he pulls away, lips pink and kiss-swollen, voice torn and almost desperate, “- want to go to bed?”

You can think of nothing in the world you’d want more. 

Your nod comes instantly, so enthusiastic that it should be embarrassing but it isn’t, and he takes your hand in his once again and leads you to his bedroom. 

His surprisingly neat, very organised bedroom. 

But you don’t have time to survey your surroundings too much because before you know it, Osamu is guiding you to lie down on his dark-grey bedspread, caging you in with his strong arms. 

He leans over you, covering your body with his, peppering soft kisses to your jawline and whispering sweet praise into your ear. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted ta do this?” you hear him say, and you grin lazily as you finally run your fingers through his hair. “How long I’ve tried ta build up the courage ta ask you out? To have you like this underneath me, making those pretty lil’ sounds fer me?”

Warm, liquid heat starts to collect in your stomach, and you suddenly feel that you’re both wearing too many clothes. 

You reach for the buttons of his shirt and feel his lips curl upwards against your neck. You undo his tie before starting to unbutton the rest, exposing more and more of the hard muscle of his chest. Not content to let you do all of the work, he paws at the back of your dress until he finds the zipper, lifting your back off the bed for a moment as he unties it. 

Osamu sheds the rest of his clothes as you shrug the dress and your underwear down your legs and onto the floor. When he leans over you again, you notice he’s hard; you feel exactly how hard he is when his cock presses against your stomach. He grabs your tits, squeezing them and playing with your nipples as you moan more wantonly than you thought possible. 

You’re not usually this vocal, but he seems to draw it out of you.

Things escalate quickly, or maybe they don’t — you can’t really tell how much time has passed. All you know is his broad frame engulfing you, the pretty words he’s whispering, and the feeling of his fingers as they dip into your underwear and run through your folds, your body growing warmer and warmer under his touch. 

You gasp - gasp audibly, your voice weak and thready - as he circles your clit, feeling how wet you are and slipping two fingers inside you moments later. 

Your entire body shakes, trembling as he starts to move his hand, and you can hear how he’s working you open. The thrusts are steady and careful, his fingers curling in a way that makes your words slur - a string of ‘Osamu, Osamu, right there, please, please, fuck’ on repeat until your mind stops working - and you feel yourself dripping down his wrist.

Osamu looks delighted. When he’s not kissing you or rutting gently against your thigh for some relieving friction, he’s propped up on his other arm and just looking at you, taking in every lip bite and flinch and the way your hips cant upwards when he switches to a new angle. 

He looks like he’s having even more fun than you are, which seems impossible since you’re practically on fire, that ball of heat growing and burning and getting more intense until –

“Fuck, Osamu, I’m coming,” you gasp, rocking against his hand as he fucks you through it, feeling it ripple through you for what seems like hours. 

Your eyes screw shut as you come but when you finally gather enough strength to open them again, you see him admiring you with blown-own pupils, his cock rock-hard and leaking against his stomach. 

“Need you,” you just about choke out the words, your body feeling utterly weightless. You’re surprised at how soon you want to go again, still feeling the aftershocks pulsing from your core, but the way he’s looking at you now makes you want to lean over and take him in your mouth. 

“Need me?” he mumbles, pulling his soaking fingers from your pussy with a lazy smile. 

You want to laugh, smack him playfully and bite back with something like don’t let it get to your head, Miya, but your mind isn’t letting you get that far. Instead, all you can articulate is a broken-sounding;

“Need you inside me.”

Thankfully, Osamu doesn’t try and tease you any further. Your words ignite something in him; he pulls back on his haunches and grabs a condom from his bedside table before you can even blink, breathing out a low moan as you start to pump him slowly. He fucks into your fist, biting into his lower lip as he does so, hands resting on his muscular thighs.

He starts to leak into your palm and at that, he’s had enough of the touching, leaning back over you and kissing you in a way that knocks the breath from your chest.

He rolls the condom onto his length and positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your clit and making you whimper, and gives you one last look to make sure you’re ready for him – he’s not exactly small. 

You nod, certain that if he’s not inside you soon, your core will start to physically ache.

He pushes inside you in one slow but fluid motion. It fills and stretches you in a way that you’ve never felt before and your thighs spread wider for him, needing to feel that sensation again and again. Once you’ve had time to adjust to his size, he starts to move, thrusts steady and firm.

It’s unbearably hot. Every movement, every touch, it all makes you feel as though you’re burning up underneath him. Judging from his expression, he feels the same. 

If he seemed like he was enjoying himself before now, it pales in comparison to the look on his face at this moment; cheeks flushed, eyes fluttering shut as he swears under his breath, lips shining from having kissed you over and over. 

He tells you exactly how good you’re making him feel: how your walls are squeezing him just right, how he’s imagined fucking you before but this is somehow better, how you’re so wet he wants to stay buried in your pussy forever. You want to reply but his thrusts are hitting too deep for you to form coherent sentences. 

His hands are back on your waist, manoeuvring you easily since the pleasure has rendered you utterly boneless and pliant underneath him. 

However, that all changes when you see him approach his peak - you can tell as much from the way his movements turn erratic, and the swears and praise start to flow out as if he has no control over it - and you decide to take charge. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him into you, gripping his shoulders and leaving little crescent-moon indentations in his skin.

He groans into your shoulder and comes deep inside you. He keeps thrusting into you; even in his fucked-out state, he seems intent to bring you to the edge along with him. 

It works – you come again without warning, the build-up from before now entirely absent as the orgasm burns through you. You cry out, the sound barely muffled against his shoulder as you spasm around his length, your quaking thighs struggling to stay wrapped around his hips. 

Cliche as it may sound, it’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. 

You take a ragged breath, feeling your chest move up and down, your nipples grazing against his chest. His lips are still at your pulse point, kissing you gently.

Slowly, very slowly, you start to untangle yourselves. Osamu pulls out with a soft hiss, still half-hard, and you let your legs fall back against his bed. You lift a hand to your forehead, feeling how your skin is damp and flushed, and let yourself come back to earth as Osamu disposes of the condom. 

He returns a moment later, laying down next to you on the bed, giving you a smile that is surprisingly but achingly affectionate. 

Your heart skips triumphantly. You’ve gone from resenting him to liking him to really liking him in the space of a single evening, and there’s no denying how much you want him to keep smiling at you like this for the foreseeable future. 

He cups your face with one of his large hands, and you can easily predict what he’s about to ask you next. 

“Wanna stay over?”

You hum, pretending to think it over even though, once again, you know what your answer will be. 

“I mean, it’s sensible – we share a commute,” he points out, and you can’t argue with him on that one. “Plus, I heard ya make decent coffee.”

You let out a weary sigh, oozing fake annoyance. “So that’s why you brought me over?” 

“Nah, it’s just yet another point in your favour.”

Before you can say anything else, he brings you in for a kiss - tender this time, soft and careful - and as strange as it sounds, you find yourself looking forward to the morning after. And maybe the morning after that, as well. 

There are definite perks to working three doors down from Osamu Miya. 

[page-98]

Muse: Adelaide

"Enjoy your vacation"

That's what the memo Edward had telegraphed. Made her waste all the effort leaving her hotel to the location, paying for the message. Just to remind her to enjoy her vacation. A planned vacation in Portugal because he got a rumor that an old "associate" was now living here. She was to make sure it was in fact the same man who conned him out of millions of dollars. Then if it was to kill him with a certain gun.

A week and a half ago, he came to visit while she was still packing. The arrogance of the man, her employer, who killed her mother out of sheer jealousy. Still flaunted that he will always have leverage over her. Her emotions will always be mixed when it comes to him. He calmly strutted over, making idol chit-chat before revealing the real reason. He presented a small weapon case. He opened it and found a gold-plated, ivory, handle revolver. It was well crafted and customized. Then the story began. He picked up the gun and examined it, his piercing blue eyes, apparently remenicing.

"Jaime Santiago and I were once friends. He came to me, in his usually over-confidante manner. He needed to borrow ten million to start up this business. The deal was to lend him ten million and he would repay me 20 million. This gun, was precious to him, that I did believe. He gave it to me as equity, a loan. As a businessman myself and a good friend, I gave him six years to repay the loan. Then six years passed and he didn't want to pay...then months passed. The same BS that his business wasn't quite making it..then a few months later I've come to realize he had split his business into three and altogether they were worth well over 300 million," he paused placing the gun back in its custom casing.

He then picked up a bullet, it too was gold and she noticed there was some sort of engravement on it. On all the bullets that lay in the case. "And he couldn't pay a measly twenty mill," he seethed, disappointed and disgust apparent. "So I hired a contract on him," he said simply putting back the bullet. "He ran, he hid. He's been hiding for about twelve years now," he finished. He paused as he stared at her. She stared back unflinching. He leaned in closer and whispered. "I don't care how you do it, as long as you use this gun and put these bullets threw his head," Edward noted.

Now she was in Ribeira at a bustling cafe at night. She sipped on a latte and kept her eyes on the newspaper. She looked like a rich local who frequented the area. She didn't know Portuguese, she was studying the language in the meantime. She had to admit the views were nice. However, the views were nice everywhere she went. Edward was part of the High Table, they traveled to all the best locations the world had to offer. Though this....was supposed to be a grace period, a vacation. Yet here she was spying on a man in his late 50s buying drinks for anyone who would lend him an ear.

She watched as Jamie Santiago started to stumble off. Apparently a bit tipsy, a bit done. She began to tail him. The city was alive at night, with people partying late. Though she knew sooner or later there would be an opportunity. She kept her distance until he turned down a small alleyway. Just big enough for a small car to pass through. She quickened her pace as she put her hand in her purse. The gun was already loaded with the bullets with vindicta engraved on them. Santiago stopped as he tripped over a small pothole. Adelaide smirked as she neared pulling out the gun out of her purse.

@nytehavyn-circle

[beardedmrbean]

It was the most spectacular trial ever held in Vietnam, befitting one of the greatest bank frauds the world has ever seen.

Behind the stately yellow portico of the colonial-era courthouse in Ho Chi Minh City, a 67-year-old Vietnamese property developer was sentenced to death on Thursday for looting one of the country's largest banks over a period of 11 years.

It's a rare verdict - she is one of very few women in Vietnam to be sentenced to death for a white collar crime.

The decision is a reflection of the dizzying scale of the fraud. Truong My Lan was convicted of taking out $44bn (£35bn) in loans from the Saigon Commercial Bank. The verdict requires her to return $27bn, a sum prosecutors said may never be recovered. Some believe the death penalty is the court's way of trying to encourage her to return some of the missing billions.

The habitually secretive communist authorities were uncharacteristically forthright about this case, going into minute detail for the media. They said 2,700 people were summoned to testify, while 10 state prosecutors and around 200 lawyers were involved.

The evidence was in 104 boxes weighing a total of six tonnes. Eighty-five others were tried with Truong My Lan, who denied the charges and can appeal.

All of the defendants were found guilty. Four received life in jail. The rest were given prison terms ranging from 20 years to three years suspended. Truong My Lan's husband and niece received jail terms of nine and 17 years respectively.

"There has never been a show trial like this, I think, in the communist era," says David Brown, a retired US state department official with long experience in Vietnam. "There has certainly been nothing on this scale."

The trial was the most dramatic chapter so far in the "Blazing Furnaces" anti-corruption campaign led by the Communist Party Secretary-General, Nguyen Phu Trong.

A conservative ideologue steeped in Marxist theory, Nguyen Phu Trong believes that popular anger over untamed corruption poses an existential threat to the Communist Party's monopoly on power. He began the campaign in earnest in 2016 after out-manoeuvring the then pro-business prime minister to retain the top job in the party.

The campaign has seen two presidents and two deputy prime ministers forced to resign, and hundreds of officials disciplined or jailed. Now one of the country's richest women has joined their ranks.

Truong My Lan comes from a Sino-Vietnamese family in Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon. It has long been the commercial engine of the Vietnamese economy, dating well back to its days as the anti-communist capital of South Vietnam, with a large, ethnic Chinese community.

She started as a market stall vendor, selling cosmetics with her mother, but began buying land and property after the Communist Party ushered in a period of economic reform, known as Doi Moi, in 1986. By the 1990s, she owned a large portfolio of hotels and restaurants.

Although Vietnam is best known outside the country for its fast-growing manufacturing sector, as an alternative supply chain to China, most wealthy Vietnamese made their money developing and speculating in property.

All land is officially state-owned. Getting access to it often relies on personal relationships with state officials. Corruption escalated as the economy grew, and became endemic.

By 2011, Truong My Lan was a well-known business figure in Ho Chi Minh City, and she was allowed to arrange the merger of three smaller, cash-strapped banks into a larger entity: Saigon Commercial Bank.

Vietnamese law prohibits any individual from holding more than 5% of the shares in any bank. But prosecutors say that through hundreds of shell companies and people acting as her proxies, Truong My Lan actually owned more than 90% of Saigon Commercial.

They accused her of using that power to appoint her own people as managers, and then ordering them to approve hundreds of loans to the network of shell companies she controlled.

The amounts taken out are staggering. Her loans made up 93% of all the bank's lending.

Vietnam secret document warns of 'hostile forces'

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The country where Kissinger left a legacy of death and chaos

According to prosecutors, over a period of three years from February 2019, she ordered her driver to withdraw 108 trillion Vietnamese dong, more than $4bn (£2.3bn) in cash from the bank, and store it in her basement.

That much cash, even if all of it was in Vietnam's largest denomination banknotes, would weigh two tonnes.

She was also accused of bribing generously to ensure her loans were never scrutinised. A former chief inspector at the central bank was given a life sentence for accepting a $5m bribe.

The mass of officially sanctioned publicity about the case channelled public anger over corruption against Truong My Lan, whose fatigued, unmade-up appearance in court was in stark contrast to the glamorous publicity photos people had seen of her in the past.

But questions are also being asked about why she was able to keep on with the alleged fraud for so long.

"I am puzzled," says Le Hong Hiep who runs the Vietnam Studies Programme at the ISEAS - Yusof Ishak Institute in Singapore.

"Because it wasn't a secret. It was well known in the market that Truong My Lan and her Van Thinh Phat group were using SCB as their own piggy bank to fund the mass acquisition of real estate in the most prime locations.

"It was obvious that she had to get the money from somewhere. But then it is such a common practice. SCB is not the only bank that is used like this. So perhaps the government lost sight because there are so many similar cases in the market."

David Brown believes she was protected by powerful figures who have dominated business and politics in Ho Chi Minh City for decades. And he sees a bigger factor in play in the way this trial is being run: a bid to reassert the authority of the Communist Party over the free-wheeling business culture of the south.

"What Nguyen Phu Trong and his allies in the party are trying to do is to regain control of Saigon, or at least stop it from slipping away.

"Up until 2016 the party in Hanoi pretty much let this Sino-Vietnamese mafia run the place. They would make all the right noises that local communist leaders are supposed to make, but at the same time they were milking the city for a substantial cut of the money that was being made down there."

At 79 years old, party chief Nguyen Phu Trong is in shaky health, and will almost certainly have to retire at the next Communist Party Congress in 2026, when new leaders will be chosen.

He has been one of the longest-serving and most consequential secretary-generals, restoring the authority of the party's conservative wing to a level not seen since the reforms of the 1980s. He clearly does not want to risk permitting enough openness to undermine the party's hold on political power.

But he is trapped in a contradiction. Under his leadership the party has set an ambitious goal of reaching rich country status by 2045, with a technology and knowledge-based economy. This is what is driving the ever-closer partnership with the United States.

Yet faster growth in Vietnam almost inevitably means more corruption. Fight corruption too much, and you risk extinguishing a lot of economic activity. Already there are complaints that bureaucracy has slowed down, as officials shy away from decisions which might implicate them in a corruption case.

"That's the paradox," says Le Hong Hiep. "Their growth model has been reliant on corrupt practices for so long. Corruption has been the grease that that kept the machinery working. If they stop the grease, things may not work any more."

[thaiattorney]

Buying Property in Thailand

Thailand is an attractive destination for property buyers due to its scenic landscapes, vibrant cities, and welcoming culture. However, purchasing property in Thailand, especially as a foreigner, involves navigating a complex legal framework and understanding the local market intricacies. This comprehensive guide will provide detailed insights, enhancing expertise and credibility by delving into the legalities, procedures, and best practices for buying property in Thailand.

1. Understanding the Legal Framework

Key Legal Restrictions:

Land Code Act B.E. 2497 (1954): Foreigners cannot own land in Thailand except under specific conditions.

Condominium Act B.E. 2522 (1979): Foreigners can own up to 49% of the total floor area of a condominium building.

Foreign Business Act B.E. 2542 (1999): Regulates foreign business activities and investments, impacting property purchases for business purposes.

Exceptions and Alternatives:

Board of Investment (BOI) Projects: Foreigners investing in BOI-promoted projects can acquire land under specific conditions.

Long-Term Leases: Foreigners can lease land for up to 30 years, with options to renew.

Thai Company Ownership: Forming a Thai company where foreigners hold less than 50% of shares allows indirect land ownership.

2. Types of Property Available for Purchase

Condominiums:

Freehold Ownership: Foreigners can own condominium units outright.

Ownership Percentage: The foreign ownership quota in a condominium building should not exceed 49%.

Leasehold Properties:

Land and Houses: Foreigners can lease land and houses for up to 30 years, with potential for renewal.

Registration: Leases exceeding three years must be registered at the Land Department to be legally enforceable.

Investment Properties:

Commercial Real Estate: Foreigners can invest in commercial properties through long-term leases or joint ventures with Thai partners.

Resort and Hotel Investments: Special regulations apply to foreign investments in resort and hotel properties, often requiring joint ventures.

3. Due Diligence and Legal Processes

Conducting Due Diligence:

Title Search: Verify the property’s legal status, ownership history, and any encumbrances or disputes.

Zoning and Land Use: Ensure the property complies with local zoning laws and land use regulations.

Environmental Compliance: Check for any environmental restrictions or issues affecting the property.

Engaging Legal and Financial Advisors:

Real Estate Lawyer: Hire a reputable lawyer specializing in Thai real estate to guide you through the legal processes.

Financial Advisor: Consult a financial advisor to understand tax implications, financing options, and investment strategies.

Steps in the Buying Process:

Reservation Agreement: Sign a reservation agreement and pay a reservation fee to secure the property.

Due Diligence: Conduct thorough due diligence with the help of legal advisors.

Sale and Purchase Agreement (SPA): Draft and sign the SPA, detailing the terms and conditions of the sale.

Deposit Payment: Pay a deposit, typically 10-30% of the purchase price.

Transfer of Ownership: Complete the transfer at the Land Department, paying the remaining balance and associated fees.

4. Costs and Taxes Involved

Purchase Costs:

Transfer Fee: 2% of the appraised property value.

Stamp Duty: 0.5% of the purchase price or appraised value, whichever is higher.

Withholding Tax: 1% of the appraised value or the actual sale price, whichever is higher.

Specific Business Tax (SBT): 3.3% of the appraised or actual sale price, applicable if the property is sold within five years of acquisition.

Ongoing Costs:

Common Area Fees: Monthly fees for maintenance of common areas in condominiums.

Property Tax: Annual property tax based on the assessed value of the property.

Utilities and Maintenance: Regular expenses for utilities, repairs, and maintenance.

5. Financing Options

Local Financing:

Thai Banks: Some Thai banks offer mortgage loans to foreigners for condominium purchases.

Eligibility Criteria: Generally, borrowers need to have a work permit, proof of income, and a good credit history.

Foreign Financing:

Home Country Banks: Some buyers secure financing from banks in their home countries, leveraging their assets abroad.

International Mortgage Providers: Specialized financial institutions provide mortgages for international property purchases.

Payment Plans:

Developer Financing: Some developers offer financing plans with staggered payments during the construction period.

Installment Payments: Buyers can negotiate installment payments directly with sellers or developers.

6. Common Pitfalls and How to Avoid Them

Legal Complications:

Unclear Title: Always verify the title to avoid disputes and ensure clear ownership.

Zoning Issues: Confirm zoning regulations to ensure the property can be used as intended.

Contractual Disputes: Have all agreements reviewed by a lawyer to prevent misunderstandings and ensure enforceability.

Financial Risks:

Currency Fluctuations: Be aware of exchange rate risks when making payments in foreign currency.

Hidden Costs: Account for all additional costs such as taxes, fees, and maintenance expenses.

Financing Challenges: Ensure you have a clear financing plan and understand the terms of any loans or payment plans.

7. Enhancing Expertise and Credibility

Demonstrating Professional Credentials:

Legal Qualifications: Highlight the legal qualifications and experience of your advisors and partners.

Professional Experience: Detail your experience in handling property transactions in Thailand.

Memberships and Affiliations: Include memberships in professional organizations like the Thai Bar Association, the Real Estate Broker Association, or international property associations.

Providing Authoritative References:

Cite Legal Documents: Reference specific sections of the Land Code Act and Condominium Act to support your points.

Expert Opinions: Incorporate insights from recognized experts in Thai real estate law and property investment.

Including Detailed Case Studies:

Client Testimonials: Feature testimonials from clients who have successfully purchased property in Thailand with your assistance.

Real-Life Examples: Provide detailed examples of successful transactions, highlighting any challenges overcome and solutions implemented.

Visual Aids and Infographics:

Process Flowcharts: Use flowcharts to depict the steps involved in the property buying process.

Diagrams: Create diagrams to visually explain key legal concepts and ownership structures.

[ilgaksu]

Sorry, I always see your posts late. More thoughts on to be the knife? Character moments you didn't get to include or backstory that didn't make it onto the page or how do Xiazi and Xiao Hua end up crossing paths again?

(you don't see them late, and there is no expiry on asks or ask memes for me. you just need to link to it if it's a numbered question so i know which post to refer to for example. i just explicitly post inviting asks because i have limited energy, have recently been travelling abroad and this week have the requisite flare-up, and i also sometimes just want to make it clear when people will get a timely reply. and often, if it's a message i want to really think about, it'll take some time anyway! so yeah, you're all good <3)

OH, OH THERE IS SO MUCH. especially because i'd ideally like to write another fic in that universe, with the proviso i have a Backlog and a promised heist au because of that one poll. i'm tagging @difeisheng mostly for the sake of it being a shared baby so they can pull me back in line if i've forgotten/misremembered something.

i think the most fun thing to focus on in this reply is how they cross paths again, which is that the victim in the current murder case is, in fact, an ex-employee of xiao hua's. xiao hua has a spy network throughout the city, and a large number are women and men who were previously indentured sex workers, and xiao hua bought their contracts and destroyed the contracts, usually dramatically in front of the people, then offered them a job working for him in some capacity. this means that even if the person chooses to leave sex work and say, open a business (which he might give them a loan to open) or work in a hotel etc (he'll assist that too), they can still accept working for him as a direct spy. or otherwise, they know they owe him a favour he can call in. the women in the brothel in that fic have actively chosen to stay in the profession. he isn't helping people find jobs or open businesses or get married out of the goodness of his heart, it's because hope is a valuable currency to buy extreme loyalty, and often is more effective than fear in certain cases.

so, xiao hua is pretty concerned that an employee of his has shown up dead. and he doesn't like the implication he can't take care of his own. so he ends up helping wu xie solve the case, and this involves him and hei xiazi infilitrating a western-style dance hall, posing as a couple. xiao hua in this is still very trans, remember, and so he decides to dress in western women's clothes of the time and pose as a short-haired ingenue, and hei xiazi sees this and just about drops dead, since i apparently only write one kind of cross-dressing.*

we just thought it'd be fun to have xiao hua in a typical 30s ballroom-appropriate gown sitting in hei xiazi's lap to perform brainlessness while hei xiazi has no clue where to put his hands given xiao hua could cheerfully cut them off with the knife he has strapped to his thigh next to those stockings. then they break into the owner's office. and make out in there. and then get caught. and then escape. and then fall into bed together back at hei xiazi's apartment. i'm pretty sure that's the next meeting. i feel like ash will correct me if i am wrong.

*i'm using the term cross-dressing, btw, because contextually that is how the character views it, and how they are operating within their understanding of it, attraction or kink or complicated feelings or otherwise.

[commercialrealestates]

What are commercial real estate services?

Commercial real estate services refer to a range of professional services and activities related to the buying, selling, leasing, managing, and investing in commercial properties. Commercial properties include office buildings, retail spaces, industrial facilities, hotels, warehouses, and other income-producing real estate assets. These services are typically offered by real estate professionals, companies, and organizations specializing in the commercial real estate sector. Here are some of the key components of commercial real estate services:

Brokerage Services: Commercial real estate brokers help clients buy, sell, or lease commercial properties. They facilitate transactions, negotiate terms and conditions, and provide market insights to help clients make informed decisions.

Property Management: Property management companies oversee the day-to-day operations of commercial properties on behalf of owners. This includes tasks such as rent collection, maintenance, tenant relations, and financial reporting.

Leasing and Tenant Representation: Commercial real estate agents and brokers specializing in leasing help property owners find suitable tenants for their spaces. Tenant representation services assist businesses in finding suitable properties to lease.

Investment Services: Investment firms and professionals provide guidance on real estate investment strategies. They may help investors acquire, manage, or divest commercial properties to optimize returns.

Appraisal and Valuation: Appraisers determine the market value of commercial properties, which is crucial for financing, taxation, and decision-making purposes. Valuation services help property owners understand the worth of their assets.

Development and Construction: Developers and construction companies focus on creating new commercial properties or renovating existing ones. They handle the design, permitting, and construction phases of commercial real estate projects.

Financing and Mortgage Services: Lenders and financial institutions offer loans and mortgage products tailored to commercial real estate projects. These services help property buyers secure the necessary capital for their investments.

Market Research and Analysis: Real estate research firms provide market data, trends, and analysis to assist clients in making informed decisions. This includes information on vacancy rates, rental rates, and demand trends.

Consulting and Advisory Services: Real estate consultants offer strategic advice and planning services to property owners, investors, and developers. They may help clients optimize property portfolios, assess market risks, or formulate investment strategies.

Legal and Regulatory Services: Real estate attorneys specialize in handling legal aspects of commercial real estate transactions. They ensure that contracts, leases, and other legal documents comply with local laws and regulations.

Environmental Assessment: Environmental consultants assess commercial properties for environmental risks and compliance with environmental regulations. This is particularly important for properties with potential contamination issues.

Property Tax Services: Property tax consultants assist property owners in managing and minimizing property tax obligations by evaluating assessments and pursuing tax appeals when necessary.

Overall, commercial real estate services encompass a wide range of activities aimed at facilitating the acquisition, management, and optimization of commercial properties, with the goal of maximizing returns and minimizing risks for property owners, investors, and businesses.

[sandhusranmortgage]

Sandhu Sran Mortgages - What is a Commercial Mortgage and How to Apply?

A commercial mortgage is a loan used to purchase commercial real estate. The property is pledged as security or used as collateral in exchange for the funding. Commercial mortgages can be used to purchase a variety of properties, including retail outlets, offices, hotels, and residential buildings to be used for business purposes. If you want to buy a residential property for investment purposes, you may need to apply a commercial loan in Abbotsford for it.

[novumtimes]

Gov. Jim Justice tries to halt foreclosure of his West Virginia hotel as he runs for US Senate

CHARLESTON, W.Va. (AP) — Gov. Jim Justice is in a mad-dash legal fight as he runs for U.S. Senate to keep a historic West Virginia hotel at his luxury resort before it’s auctioned off next week due to unpaid debts. Around 400 employees at The Greenbrier hotel received a letter Monday from an attorney representing health care provider Amalgamated National Health Fund saying they will lose coverage Aug. 27 unless the Republican’s family pays $2.4 million in missing contributions, Peter Bostic of the Workers United Mid-Atlantic Regional Joint Board said Tuesday. The coverage would end the day the hotel is set to go to auction, which Justice family attorneys have asked a judge to stop. They argue in part the auction would harm the economy and threaten hundreds of jobs. The Justice family hasn’t made contributions to employees’ health fund in four months, and an additional $1.2 million in contributions will soon be due, according to the letter from Ronald Richman, an attorney with Schulte Roth & Zabel LLP, the firm representing the Amalgamated National Health Fund. The letter also said that some contributions were taken out of employees’ paychecks but never transferred to the health fund, which concerned union officials. “We are heartbroken and disappointed to learn that The Greenbrier Hotel, despite its contractual and legal obligation to do so, has become severely delinquent to our Health Insurance carrier,” Bostic said in a statement. “The Greenbrier’s delinquency has put our member’s Health Care benefits in severe jeopardy and is morally and legally wrong.” The letter was first reported on by RealWV, a news site run by former Democratic state Sen. Stephen Baldwin. Democrat Glenn Elliott, Justice’s opponent in the U.S. Senate race and the former mayor of Wheeling, wrote on the social media platform X that Justice’s “sense of entitlement to things that aren’t his is limitless and indefensible.” Justice, who owns dozens of companies and had a net worth estimated at $513 million by Forbes Magazine in 2021, has been accused in numerous court cases of being late in paying millions for family business debts and fines for unsafe working conditions at his coal mines. He began serving the first of his two terms as governor in 2017, after buying The Greenbrier out of bankruptcy in 2009. The hotel has hosted U.S. presidents, royalty and, from 2010 until 2019, a PGA Tour tournament. Justice’s family also owns The Greenbrier Sporting Club, a private luxury community with a members-only “resort within a resort.” That property was scheduled to be auctioned off this year in an attempt by Carter Bank & Trust of Martinsville, Virginia, to recover more than $300 million in business loans defaulted by the governor’s family, but a court battle delayed that process. The auction, set for a courthouse in the small city of Lewisburg, involves 60.5 acres — including the hotel and parking lot. The hotel came under threat of auction after JPMorgan Chase sold a longstanding Justice loan to a credit collection company, McCormick 101, which declared it to be in default. In court documents filed this week, Justice attorneys said a 2014 deed of trust approved by the governor is defective because JPMorgan didn’t obtain consent from the Greenbrier Hotel Corporation’s directors or owners, and that auctioning the property violates the company’s obligation to act in “good faith and deal fairly” with the corporation. Neither attorneys for the Justice family nor Greenbrier CFO and Treasurer Adam Long responded to requests for comment Tuesday. ___ This story has been corrected to show that about 400 employees received the insurance letter, not 400 exactly. Source link via The Novum Times

[tumblerhearamber]

The Ultimate Guide to about a one news Real Estate

 

What exactly is real estate?

The buildings and other real estate on a one news specific piece of land are considered real estate. Additionally, it includes the rights to the air above and below the land, respectively. Real, or physical, property is what is meant by the term "real estate.

The Four Types of Real Estate 

Real estate is a physical entity that includes the following four types of property: land, commercial, industrial, and residential areas a one news construction and resale homes are examples of residential real estate. Single-family homes, including condominiums, townhouses, duplexes, and vacation homes, are typically referred to by this term.

Commercial 

The buildings used for business, such as strip malls, hospitals, colleges, hotels, and office spaces, are referred to as "commercial real estate." Apartment complexes also typically fall under the category of commercial real estate due to the fact that their owners typically make use of those spaces to generate income.

Buildings 

And warehouses used for research, production, storage, and product distribution are examples of industrial real estate.

 Land

 Land includes ranches and working farms. It also refers to land that has not been developed, such as land on which homes or buildings are being built.

There is a one news -fits-all standard for how each of these four categories is handled. Each has its own rules, buying procedures, and, frequently, types of real estate professionals qualified to participate in a particular sale.

Who's Who in Real Estate

 A buyer and an agent rarely just shake hands, close a deal, and part ways in a one news real estate transaction, which is rarely straightforward. Typically, a number of people are involved in that process. A look at some of those experts is provided here.

Four Kinds of Real Estate Agents The Real Estate Agent The real estate agent serves as a one news  link between buyers and sellers and the real estate industry as a whole. They are in charge of everything from finding potential properties to listing them and negotiating prices. While some agents work with buyers and sellers simultaneously, the majority concentrate a one news the other. This is because each has very different responsibilities.

The Buyer's Agent 

On the other hand, people who want to buy real estate work with the buyer's agent. They are in charge of finding prospective properties, organizing walkthroughs and showings, negotiating on their clients' behalf, and assisting with the purchase and closing process. Working with a one news buyer's agent typically comes at no cost to the client. Buyer's agents earn 3% of the gross sale price, which is also paid for by the seller, if they manage a real estate transaction successfully.

Real Estate License 

A license is required to assist buyers or sellers in leasing, purchasing, or selling real estate. The length of time spent in school, the results of a one news test, and the cost of the course all play a role in determining whether or not permission is granted.

The Broker 

An agent is considered to be a one news level below a real estate broker. A broker is an agent, but an agent is not—think of a broker as a rectangle and an agent as a square.

Brokers typically require more education and licensing than agents, despite state-specific rules. As a result, brokers are able to establish their very own real estate brokerage and employ agents as salespeople.

The Appraiser 

The appraiser determines a property's value independently of the parties buying and selling it. The mortgage lender typically selects the appraiser because it is in their best interest to determine a property's fair and accurate value. Before the lender will approve the loan, the property must be appraised at the agreed-upon contracted sales price.

The appraiser does the majority of their work on-site and reports back to the lender, including conducting a room-by-room walk-through and evaluating the exterior and interior conditions.

[ishouldfindarealjob]

Please, tell me what to do

I feel like I’ve “lost at life.” I can’t find the right, fulfilling direction, and it’s been troubling me. In my 20s, I traveled around Europe, living in various places and meeting people from all over the world. I had no money and no plan, and while it was sometimes stressful, I was generally happy with my lifestyle. I wasn’t deeply happy, but I was content with where I was at that time.

However, as my travels continued, I met more and more people who seemed strange, detached, and irresponsible. Initially, this added to the adventure, but eventually, it started to wear on me. I felt increasingly out of place in that transient community. The constant movement and lack of stability, once liberating, began to feel isolating. I started craving a real career and the stability that comes with it.

The decision to leave that lifestyle wasn’t easy. It was a rocky and long journey, filled with uncertainties and self-doubt. But in June of 2019, I finally came back home. This marked a significant shift, ending an era of exploration and beginning a new chapter focused on building a stable, fulfilling life. The transition was challenging, but it felt necessary for finding the direction I’d been searching for.

Because I am a spoiled, privileged child, I got the opportunity to join a small business and turn it into a family business. Everything looked good; the economy was strong. There was no “slow season” in our industry anymore, and we always had a bit more work than we could handle. I officially bought my part of the company in January 2020. Even though I am a spoiled little brat, I had to take out a massive loan to buy out the previous co-owner. But hey, everything looked perfect. We had plenty of orders, society was getting richer, and new apartments were being built all the time. What bad could happen, right? RIGHT??

So, it was all perfect for about three months. Then the lockdown came, and with the lockdown came uncertainty. Will they close us as well? But they didn’t... we could still work.

While everyone was enjoying their first weeks of lockdown holidays, we were working super hard. All of you guys, well, the majority of you, while sitting at home and getting your money, started to buy a lot of stuff, including furniture. It was crazy how much cash flooded the market at some point. I was certain it all had to collapse. Anyways, cash was flowing, and the pace of work was crazy. Yet, there was always this anxiety: what if someone gets sick at work and it gets really bad? What if they get sick and die, or someone from their family dies?

It felt like a relief that the government didn’t close us, but on the other hand, I felt that responsibility—that if something happens to somebody, it will be, in some part, because of my greed.

The year goes by, then another, and we arrive at 2022. We all need a little break; we are tired of this work marathon. But we did not expect SUCH a big break. At the beginning of 2022, Russia invades Ukraine, and all hell breaks loose. I live close to the border with Belarus, so we are not directly affected by the conflict, but we get hit by the ricochet. Energy and gas prices skyrocket. The electricity bill doubles, gas goes up 800%, the border with Belarus closes, and many companies that relied on goods exchange with the East slowly start dying.

All the suppliers raised the prices of their products, explaining it by the growing gas and electricity costs. It later turned out they quadrupled their income that year. Chipwood prices went up 100% from December 2021 to August 2022. Inflation in my country was dangerously high, finally reaching 18%. People were out of money, barely able to afford food. No one was thinking about investing thousands into furniture. Everything stopped. The government spent all the money to help hotels and restaurants during lockdowns, so we couldn’t count on any help. If anything, they raised the taxes. Small companies that we knew and that had been in the market for 20-plus years were closing. We spent our last savings on salaries and property taxes, which also went up over 50%. I didn’t have money for salaries or to pay suppliers. I broke down. It was way too much stress. We were constantly counting on European Union money that was supposed to help us recover after the 2020 disaster, but our government was too stubborn and not complying with European laws, so no European money was coming to our country.

Letting people go wasn’t enough; we needed to rent out half of our production property. And with that, my dream of changing the company profile vanished. By the end of 2023, I was a total wreck. I wasn’t even functioning on autopilot; I was just a zombie. I gained a lot of weight, my face started to look 10 years older, and my memory went to shit. I felt like I had no brain.

2024 came, and I just woke up in this post-apocalyptic world that has changed so much and is still changing. I was so occupied with something else that I lost my grasp. In 2020, I wanted to buy new machinery and divide the company into two—one would continue making custom-made furniture, and the second would produce a self-assembly, ready-to-ship collection. But then all the money disappeared, and the furniture industry fell into a massive crisis that it still can’t overcome.

I am burnt out, I have no money, and the worst part is... I honestly don’t know what to do or how to change it. Production in Europe is dying. The costs of running a business are extremely high, and now it feels more like a hobby than a business. I want to make a ready product, but there are already so many of them online. Literally thousands, so cheap that I don’t even know how they cover the cost of materials. The worst thing is, the Chinese are getting better and better, their quality is improving, but they don’t have to deal with all the regulations that we have in the EU.

Should I wait some more? Am I being impatient? Will it slowly go back to normal? Or is there no going back? Is production in Europe dying, and should I think about some other job? I signed up for a massage course—not only relaxation but also medical massage. Society is getting older, and I think it has a future. But on the other hand, we can’t all be in the service industry. How many hairdressers and nail artists can you have? How many online stores that sell the same products you can get on AliExpress? How many influencers selling T-shirts and coffee?

I get it, it is a natural process. Some professions die, life changes. But... what do you do? Where do you work, guys? I feel lost. Nothing seems like a good solution, nothing feels right. Nothing feels stable. I decided to come back home to feel some stability, and there has been nothing stable about my life since I came back. I feel like a failure. I am a failure. A waste of oxygen.

My journey over the past few years has been a rollercoaster of emotions and challenges. The initial optimism of turning our business into a thriving family enterprise was killed by global crises and economic hardships. Now, in 2024, I am faced with an uncertain future agaim. The overwhelming feeling of failure and instability looms large, and I struggle to finding a sense of purpose in a world that has drastically changed.

[buycommercialpropertiesindubai]

Top Neighborhoods to Consider When Buying Residential Properties in Dubai

Dubai offers a diverse range of neighborhoods, each with its unique charm and amenities. Choosing the right neighborhood is crucial when buying residential properties. This guide highlights the top neighborhoods to consider when buying residential properties in Dubai.

For more information on home loans, visit Home Loan UAE.

Downtown Dubai

Overview: Known as the heart of Dubai, Downtown Dubai is home to iconic landmarks such as the Burj Khalifa, Dubai Mall, and Dubai Fountain. The area offers a mix of luxury apartments and penthouses. Downtown Dubai is a vibrant urban hub that attracts professionals, families, and tourists alike.

Amenities: Residents enjoy access to world-class shopping, dining, and entertainment options. The neighborhood also offers excellent public transportation links and proximity to major business hubs. The Dubai Opera, Souk Al Bahar, and numerous five-star hotels add to the area's appeal.

Lifestyle: Downtown Dubai is ideal for those who enjoy a vibrant urban lifestyle with easy access to cultural and recreational activities. The community hosts events such as the Dubai Shopping Festival and New Year's Eve celebrations, providing residents with a dynamic living experience.

For property purchase options, explore Buy Apartments in Dubai.

Dubai Marina

Overview: Dubai Marina is a waterfront community known for its stunning skyscrapers and marina views. The area offers a range of apartments, from affordable options to high-end luxury units. Dubai Marina is one of the most sought-after residential destinations in the city.

Amenities: The neighborhood features a picturesque promenade, numerous dining and retail options, and a variety of recreational facilities, including yacht clubs and fitness centers. The Dubai Marina Mall, JBR Beach, and Bluewaters Island are popular attractions.

Lifestyle: Dubai Marina is perfect for those who love waterfront living and a lively social scene. The area is known for its vibrant nightlife, with numerous bars, clubs, and restaurants offering diverse entertainment options.

For mortgage services, consider Mortgage Broker UAE.

Palm Jumeirah

Overview: Palm Jumeirah is an iconic man-made island offering luxurious villas, townhouses, and apartments. The area is known for its exclusivity and stunning views of the Arabian Gulf. Palm Jumeirah is a symbol of Dubai's ambition and innovation.

Amenities: Residents enjoy access to private beaches, high-end resorts, fine dining restaurants, and upscale retail outlets. The island also features world-class leisure and entertainment facilities, including Atlantis The Palm and The Pointe.

Lifestyle: Palm Jumeirah is ideal for those seeking a luxurious and private lifestyle with resort-style living. The community offers a serene environment with easy access to the city's bustling areas.

For rental property management, visit Apartments For Rent in Dubai.

Arabian Ranches

Overview: Arabian Ranches is a family-friendly community offering spacious villas and townhouses. The area is known for its tranquil environment and green spaces. Arabian Ranches is one of Dubai's most popular residential communities for families.

Amenities: The neighborhood features parks, playgrounds, schools, and a golf course. Residents also have access to community centers with swimming pools, fitness facilities, and retail outlets. The Arabian Ranches Golf Club and Dubai Polo & Equestrian Club are notable attractions.

Lifestyle: Arabian Ranches is perfect for families and those who prefer a suburban lifestyle with easy access to essential amenities. The community fosters a sense of belonging and offers a peaceful retreat from the city's hustle and bustle.

For property sales, visit Sell Your Property in Dubai.

Jumeirah Village Circle (JVC)

Overview: Jumeirah Village Circle (JVC) is a rapidly growing community offering a mix of villas, townhouses, and apartments. The area is known for its affordability and family-friendly environment. JVC is a popular choice for both investors and end-users.

Amenities: JVC features parks, schools, retail outlets, and recreational facilities. The neighborhood also offers easy access to major highways and public transportation links. Nakheel Mall, Circle Mall, and numerous supermarkets and restaurants cater to residents' needs.

Lifestyle: JVC is ideal for families and individuals seeking affordable housing options in a well-planned community. The community promotes a healthy and active lifestyle with its numerous parks and sports facilities.

Real-Life Success Story

Consider the case of Sarah, who successfully bought an apartment in Dubai Marina. Sarah chose the neighborhood for its vibrant lifestyle and waterfront views. By researching the area and securing a mortgage through a reputable broker, she found her dream home and enjoys the community's amenities and social scene. Sarah's experience demonstrates the importance of selecting a neighborhood that aligns with your lifestyle and investment goals.

Future Trends in Dubai Neighborhoods

Sustainable Communities: There is a growing demand for eco-friendly and sustainable neighborhoods. Developments that prioritize green spaces, energy efficiency, and sustainable practices are becoming more popular. Examples include Sustainable City and Dubai Hills Estate.

Smart Cities: The adoption of smart city technology is on the rise. Neighborhoods equipped with smart infrastructure, including smart grids, waste management systems, and digital connectivity, are attracting buyers. Smart Dubai is an initiative that aims to make Dubai the world's smartest and happiest city.

Integrated Communities: Integrated communities that offer a mix of residential, commercial, and recreational facilities are gaining popularity. These developments provide residents with a convenient and holistic living experience. Projects like City Walk and Dubai Creek Harbour exemplify this trend.

Conclusion

Choosing the right neighborhood is essential when buying residential properties in Dubai. Downtown Dubai, Dubai Marina, Palm Jumeirah, Arabian Ranches, and Jumeirah Village Circle are some of the top neighborhoods to consider. Each offers unique amenities and lifestyles to suit different preferences and needs. For more resources and expert advice, visit Home Loan UAE.