#Custom Domain Forwarding

[virtualizationhowto]

Setting Up Nginx Proxy Manager on Docker with Easy LetsEncrypt SSL

Setting Up Nginx Proxy Manager on Docker with Easy LetsEncrypt SSL #homelab #selfhosted #NginxProxyManagerGuide #EasySSLCertificateManagement #UserFriendlyProxyHostSetup #AdvancedNginxConfiguration #PortForwarding #CustomDomainForwarding #FreeSSL

There are many reverse proxy solutions that enable configuring SSL certificates, both in the home lab and production environments. Most have heard about Traefik reverse proxy that allows you to pull LetsEncrypt certificates for your domain name automatically. However, there is another solution that provides a really great GUI dashboard for managing your reverse proxy configuration and LetsEncrypt…

[hosenseo1]

I will create high quality white hat profile creation backlinks

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[monojson]

Short links with your own brand!

U301 is the ultimate solution for streamlined link management and performance tracking!

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[paper-mario-wiki]

I'd like it to be known that I was going to use Tumblr as the platform of choice for creating a boilerplate landing page website for my job, as my boss tasked me with creating a basic address to represent the company. We've already got a domain that we've been using for an email address for almost a year, and I know tumblr theme HTML coding pretty well, so I set up an account, but was unable to forward my custom domain. That's when I learned that custom domains MUST NOW BE BOUGHT DIRECTLY FROM TUMBLR.

YOU CAN NO LONGER CONNECT YOUR OWN DOMAIN THAT YOU ALREADY OWN TO YOUR BLOG.

Additionally, if you HAVE a custom domain and it lapses for any amount of time, forcing you to turn it off, you will NOT BE ABLE TO RECONNECT IT.

I will be using a different website instead.

@staff this was a terrible decision. nobody likes this.

I personally advise every one of my 132k followers, as well as anyone who sees and reblogs this post, to NOT purchase a domain from tumblr, as they are more expensive than purchasing from any other registrar, and you are restricted to using it on a single platform.

Change it back.

[thehighpriestess1]

Make a wish: New beginnings

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Gojo x y/n, Nanami x y/n

Warnings: Angst, Mentions gun, Su!c!de mention

Ask Box | Previous Chapter | FIC Masterlist | Other works

A wide smile was plastered on your face as you pedaled through the streets, the wind playfully tousling your hair. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, casting golden hues on the pavement. You had always loved mornings like these—crisp air, a clear sky, and an exhilarating sense of new beginnings. Today was different, though. Today wasn’t just any morning; it was the start of a new chapter. The excitement coursing through your veins was undeniable, and nothing could have dampened your energy.

As you maneuvered through the familiar streets, you made sure to greet everyone you crossed paths with—a nod to the elderly woman tending to her potted plants, a cheerful wave to the café owner who was arranging fresh pastries in the window, and even a quick “Good morning!” to the jogger you always saw on your morning rides. It felt surreal to be here, to be moving forward after all those years stuck at Domain. That lingering “what if” that had haunted your thoughts was finally being answered. The uncertainty that had once held you back no longer had any power over you. Today, you were stepping into something new, something filled with potential.

You soon arrived at your destination, your heart beating with anticipation and excitement. As you parked your bike and took off your helmet, your eyes locked onto the building in front of you. It was breathtaking—modern yet distinctly Japanese-inspired, exuding both elegance and tranquility. The Golden Ratio logo was carved in gold, standing out against the dark wood facade, almost as if it were welcoming you into its world. Wooden slats were arranged in a structured yet artistic pattern, allowing glimpses of the warm, ambient lighting from within. The entrance walkway was lined with ginkgo trees and occasional black pine, their lush greenery blending harmoniously with the refined architecture. It felt like a place that had been designed not just for work, but for inspiration.

As you stood there, admiring the building and absorbing the reality of your new job, a movement caught your attention. A young man, dressed in a crisp white shirt and loose black-lined pants, approached you with a polite smile. His black lanyard bore the company’s logo, and dangling from it was his ID card. You quickly read his name—Hitoshi.

“Y/n?” he asked, his voice warm and respectful.

“Yes…” you replied, adjusting your bag strap.

“I am Hitoshi! I am here to escort you to the office. Nice to meet you!” He bowed slightly and extended his hand forward.

You returned the bow before shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you too. This is a… lovely place.”

Hitoshi chuckled nervously. “Yes. Nanami-san loves nature, and he was very adamant about maintaining this walkway.”

“I see,” you murmured, clasping your hands in front of you as you followed him through the large screen doors.

“I’m really happy you joined our firm,” Hitoshi continued as he walked beside you.

You giggled. “Me too.”

His enthusiasm seemed to grow as he spoke. “When I saw your portfolio, I knew I wanted to work with you! Your projects are so creative and witty. They make people think and create an emotional connection between the product and the customer. It’s so clever!”

“Oh… I’m glad you think I’m clever.” You chuckled, feeling both flattered and slightly amused at his excitement.

Hitoshi’s eyes practically sparkled as he went on, like a child who had just met their favorite superhero. “I asked Nanami-san to place me in your department. I will be your junior, and I have so much to learn from you! I’m just an undergraduate student, but this is my third summer internship with Golden Ratio. I’m determined to work here full-time one day. Please feel free to make me run around as much as you want—I am at your service!”

His sincerity made you smile. It was rare to see such enthusiasm so openly displayed, and it reminded you of when you first started out—brimming with ideas, eager to prove yourself, and ready to soak up every bit of knowledge you could find. It was endearing to see that kind of passion reflected in someone else.

“Well, Hitoshi,” you said, looking at him with amusement, “I hope you don’t regret saying that.”

He laughed. “Never! I mean it. I want to be useful, so please don’t hesitate to give me tasks.”

You nodded, appreciating his enthusiasm. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you walked deeper into the building, the serene atmosphere embraced you. The scent of cedarwood lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly brewed tea. The walls were adorned with minimalist art—subtle brush strokes that depicted landscapes and abstract designs. Everything about this place felt carefully curated, balancing modernity with tradition.

Hitoshi led you down a sleek hallway, stopping in front of a door with your nameplate already mounted on it. Seeing your name there, officially part of Golden Ratio, sent a thrill through you. This was real. This was happening.

“Here we are,” Hitoshi announced, opening the door for you.

You stepped inside, taking in the cozy yet professional space—large windows letting in natural light, a tidy desk waiting for you, and a small bookshelf already stocked with materials. A new beginning.

Turning to Hitoshi, you grinned. “Well then, let’s get to work.”

He beamed. “Yes! Let’s!”

And with that, your journey at Golden Ratio truly began.

His excitement made your laugh. It was pure innocent excitement to do something creative and it resonated with you. Hitoshi tapped his card and opened another screen door for you. 

Compared to the facade, the interiors had modern design. However the decor was traditional Japanese and the common areas looked like a traditional tea house engulfed by a modern cafe. 

“Where do I get my ID card from?”. You asked Hitoshi as the two of you entered the elevator.

“Oh yes! I have it ready for you in your cabin. I was so excited to meet you. I didn't want to waste time at the HR”. Hitoshi admitted and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Nanami-san is at a client meeting but he will meet you after lunch. He always makes time to meet each new employee. He is my idol! My final year design project is based on his design principle. Oh by the way, I am a product designer. Well a product design intern for now”.

You nodded and smiled. His childlike enthusiasm reminded you of your brother. “I am sure you are very talented!”.

The elevator doors opened to a courtyard surrounded by glass walls. The stone walkway was lined with tiny bonsai trees and koi ponds on either side. 

Hitoshi pointed upwards,”The roofs of this open area are retractable. When it is too sunny or raining we bring them back up! And we can even adjust them to allow as much light as we want. Today is a pleasant day so even the fishes get to enjoy it”

“This is one the most beautiful offices I have ever seen!”. You admitted. The atmosphere throughout the office felt tranquil. 

As you followed Hitoshi through different corridors you noticed the walls lined with framed awards and recognition. However you didn’t see a single photo with Nanami alone. It was always with a team and he was standing on the side. 

“This is your office!”. Hitoshi opened a glass door and smiled widely at you.

You stepped inside and took a deep breath. This was a new start to your life. 

The office itself was smaller than your older office, if you can even call it your previous office, But it was well lit and felt welcoming. The office cabin exuded a sense of tranquility and refined simplicity, blending traditional Japanese aesthetics with modern functionality. Bathed in warm, golden sunlight filtering through expansive shoji-style windows, the room felt open yet intimate. The wooden ceiling, adorned with exposed beams, added a rustic charm, while the polished wooden floor enhances the space’s elegance. At the heart of the room stood a sleek yet minimalist wooden desk, accompanied by a modern ergonomic chair. Above the desk, a delicate hanging lamp casted a soft glow, complementing the natural light. 

To the left, a sliding wooden lattice door led to another section of the office, maintaining privacy while preserving the openness of the space. Against the far wall, a scroll featuring traditional Japanese ink painting hung gracefully, adding a touch of cultural depth. A carefully placed bonsai tree in the corner breathed life into the room, reinforcing the connection to nature. 

As you made your way around the desk and ran your fingers along the edge of the chair you noticed that you could see the main lobby clearly from your chair. Hitoshi noticed your observation and walked over to the side of the desk, “If you want privacy then you can press this button and the glass door will become opaque”. He pressed a small button under the desk and the glass door became opaque in an instant.

“I see. This is beautiful”.

Hitosi pulled out a drawer and took out a docket. “This is your ID card”. He handed you the ID card with the same Lanyard as his. “You can wear it however you want but you will need it to access all the rooms in the office”. 

You took the ID card and saw your smiling face with your employee ID, birth date, and a barcode on it. “Thank you”.

Hitoshi removed a sleek folder from the main docket and placed it on the desk. “This is a brief for the new Project. Nanami-san wanted to hear your thoughts on it later in the day. He said it is not a rush and you should take your time settling in”. 

You nodded and picked up the brown file. “No worries. This would give me something to do today”. You smiled.

Hitoshi nodded happily. “This is your induction document. It has some forms that you need to fill for your emergency contact and insurance. It also has a brief overview of the firm and our past projects so feel free to go through that. I think you will find it interesting”.

“I see”.

Hitoshi placed the thicker document on the table and clapped his hands, “Well I will leave you to it. Oh and if you need anything then please call me”. Hitoshi extended his work card with both hands and you took it with a bow. “It has my mobile and office number so…call me on any. I am here to help you”.

“Okay”.

“Oh and this is your laptop, The login id and password are in your induction file. We all have lunch together in the cafeteria together at 12:30 PM sp please join us. You can meet the rest of the team!”.

“Sure I would love to!”. 

“Great, then enjoy your day and explore!”. Hitoshi gave you a courteous bow and left your office. 

You took a deep breath and plopped down the chair. As happy as you were you had an unsettling feeling that something was about to happen. You had erased the path that led you to Gojo but does this mean that you will never see him again? You tried hard to recollect what the man had told you, “Redo your fate…”. Did that mean that you could completely erase Gojo or did it mean something else. 

By the time lunch time rolled around you had finished going through the project brief and finished your formalities. The firm was quite smaller compared to the domain with only 120 people working here. You even took a video of your new office and sent it to your mom who was in awe of how beautiful it was. 

“y/n!!”. Hitoshi called out to you and waved his hand when he saw you walking through the doors of the cafeteria. 

You made your way to the long wood table where everyone was sitting. “Hello everyone, I am y/n. Nice to meet you all”. You bowed as you introduced yourself. 

Everyone bowed in return and welcomed you to sit with them. “This is maya”. Hitoshi pointed to a blue haired girl. “She handles our digital marketing so you will work closely with her”.

“Nice to meet you y/n-san! Hitoshi has said such good things about you. I look forward to working with you”.

“Nice to meet you Maya. Please call me y/n”. 

“This is Juno,” Hitoshi pointed to a brown haired, spectacled guy in a crisp blue shirt. “He works in accounting”.

“Nice to meet you Juno”. 

Juno smiled politely and bowed in return. 

“He doesn’t talk much but he is really good with numbers!”. Hitoshi continued. “And he is dating Maya”.

Both Juno and Maya turned pink. “Congratulations!”. You smiled at the couple. 

“This is Suzume,”Hitoshi pointed to the girl with a ponytail and rimless glasses. She handles appointments and office administrators. If you need anything, she will help you”.

“Nice to meet you Suzume”.

“Nice to meet you too y/n. I hope you didn’t have trouble settling in”.

“No. None at all. Hitoshi was very kind and gave me a tour of the office”.

She smiled, “If you ever need anything please reach out to me. I will be happy to help you”.

“Thank you”.

"Welcome to the gang!”. Hitohsi exclaimed with jazz hands.

The lunch was filled with chatter about office gossip and latest projects. But you didn’t feel left out at all. Everyone happily shared context to every gossip, sometimes even talking over one another. Juno was the quietest of the lot but everytime he spoke he sent everyone laughing till their stomachs hurt. You could tell that the group was very close but not exclusive. Their unique personalities blended well together and Hitoshi felt like the glue that held everyone together. 

After lunch everyone went for coffee and a small stroll around the garden and it gave you an opportunity to get to know everyone individually. You exchanged numbers and social media id with everyone even Juno who had only two posts and both were with Maya, which was endearing. Suzume, though she looked stoic, loved to chat about anything and everything. Maya and Hitoshi were like siblings who were always bickering. Juno was a man of few words but he was not cold. He spoke about the office and how he met Maya, you could tell he was really warm and loving man.

As you made your way back to your office your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was an unknown number but it seemed familiar. Maybe it was someone from the group. 

“Hello?”. 

…..

“Hello? This is y/n..”

….

You frowned and stared at the number. 

“Nanami-san?”

The person on the other side cut the call. You shrugged and put your phone back in your pocket. 

You stood outside Nanami’s cabin staring at the plaque on the door. You were nervous about meeting him despite Hitoshi assuring you that he is a kind and generous person. You raised your fist and gently tapped on the wooden door.

“Come in”.  A stern voice replied from the other end. 

You turned the knob gently and walked in. “Hi, I am..”

“y/n. Yes. I am Kento Nanami. Nice to meet you finally”. Nanami got up and bowed at you.

“Hi. Nice to meet you too”. You smiled and relaxed. 

He motioned towards the seat and you sat across from him. 

“How was your first day?”.

“It was good. Hitoshi introduced me to some people and also gave me a tour”.

“Oh he is very excited about working with you. He is talented but talks a lot”. Nanami chuckled and his eyes glinted like a proud father teasing his child.

“Yes he did”. You felt a bit nervous now that you had gotten a good look at Nanami. He was exceptionally good looking. His crisp blue shirt clung to his well built torso. His blond hair shimmered in the light and was set very neatly on top of his head. He had a calming and respectful presence. Even his office was neatly organized and well kept. 

“Are you settled in? There were some formalities for the HR”.

“Yes I submitted the forms right before coming here actually”.

“That’s great. How has your day been so far?”.

“Quite good. I went through the project brief that you had sent”. “Oh yes. But before we discuss that I would like to get to know you. What are your ambitions and dreams? And above all, what can my firm do to support you?”.

You were taken aback by his question. No one had ever asked you what you wanted let alone wanted to support you. “I..I just want to do meaningful and creative work. I want to ..help businesses grow through strategic creativity. I am not overly ambitious with respect to position and pay. As long as I can create value and support my family I am happy”.

Nanami pondered over your words for a while and the silence made you question your answer. But your anxiousness was soon washed away by his warm smile. “That is a refreshing answer. I have asked this question to many people and very few have ever given me a genuine answer. I look forward to working with you”.

You smiled widely. “Thank You”.

“So are you from Kyoto?”. Nanami asked.

“Yes and No. I was born and raised in Tokyo but moved to Kyoto 5 years ago for my family. But I love it here”.

“Oh I see. I am also not a native but moved here around the same time as you did”. He added.

“What brought you to Kyoto?”

Nanami leaned back in his chair and he thought about it for a while. He had spent so much time here that he had almost forgotten why he moved here. “For some peace and quiet. The firm I was working with in Tokyo was good and quite well paying but money isn’t everything. Once I had earned enough to move here I packed my bags and left the city”.

You nodded.”But why..Kyoto? If you don’t mind me asking”.

Nanami chuckled. “My Grandmother was from here and I remember visiting her as a child and falling in love with the culture and architecture. In some ways it inspired me to do what I am doing”.

“I can understand. Beauty of the architecture here is unmatched in my opinion. It compels me to take a step back and observe and be present but at the same time brings the creativity out of me”.

Nanami looked at you and gave a satisfying smile. “I couldn’t agree more”.

A light tap on the door broke the comfortable silence in the room.

“Come in”. Nanami said and sat up straight in his seat.

A petite girl with a bob cut peaked her head in through the gap, “Sorry to disturb you, but..Kasumi-san is on the phone”.

“I will take my leave”. You got up and bowed. “I hope to speak to you again”.

“Yes. Thank you for stopping by. If you need anything please reach out to me”. Nanami replied with a professional smile. 

“Yes”.

You rode back home with a smile on your face. You felt content..mostly. These were good people. Honest people. You knew that not all days would be good but you would rather go through the bad days with good people than good days with the bad ones.  But something was tugging at your heart and you couldn’t understand what. Maybe you were scared that all of this was a dream and when you woke up you would be back in the alley drunk and miserable. But this was real. The air on your face was real. The grip on your bike handle was real. The sight pain in your left shoulder was real. Nanami was real. Histoshi was real.

As you parked your bike near the garage, you could hear the chatter form the television inside and the light chatter between your mom and brother seeping through the walls. This was real.

“I am home!”. You announced as you took your shoes off and slipped into your house slipper.

“Welcome home! Dinner is almost ready! How was your first day?”. Your mother called from the kitchen. 

You walked in the living room and saw your brother sitting in front of the television with his eyes glued. He looked up at you briefly and then back to the television. Were you the same as a teenager? So brooding. 

“It was good”. You kept your bag on the couch and plopped down next to your brother.

“Did you make any new friends?”. Your mom asked as she made her way in the living room with a tray and gently put the glass of water on the table.

You chuckled. “Mom, I am not in school anymore. But, yes I did make new friends”.

Ren looked at you through the corner of his eyes, “Are they all nerdy like you?”.

You threw a cushion at him, “At least I have friends”.

“Enough you two! I washed these cushions today! y/n go wash up and come for dinner”.

As you sat down to eat dinner you felt grateful for the choice you had made. Seeing your mom and brother happy made it all worth it. “Mom, there are tomatoes in the curry!”. You whined.

“Oh god y/n. You should eat tomatoes. They are in season and good for you”.

“She is such a child”. Ren chuckled.

“Do you want that new game or not?”. 

“You are the best sister in the world”. Ren bowed sarcastically, making you giggle.

You mom put her spoon down and looked at you trying to recollect something.

“What?”. You asked.

“Oh yes! Someone called for you today”.

“For me? Who?”.

“I don’t know. They asked whether you were home and I told them you were at work”.

“Did you ask for their name?”. You asked, eating a spoonful of rice.

“I did.. But they cut the call”.

You shrugged. “Must be the HR confirming my home number”.

“Yeah..but-”.

“Mom”. You tilted your head and looked at her reassuringly. Your mom had an affinity for fussing over these things. “It’s all good”.

“Are you sure?”.

“Yes. I am sure”. You turned to Ren, “How was school?”.

“Good”. 

You stared at him prompting him to expand on his reply.

“What?”.

“You were supposed to get your test result today?”.

“Oh Yeah I did. I did alright”.

“Alright?”. You mom scoffed. “He scored the highest y/n! I am so happy!”.

“Oh wow. So there is a brain inside that skull!”. You and your mom giggled. “How about all of us go for a picnic to celebrate this weekend?”.

Ren shook his head. “I have a soccer match”.

“After the match?”. Your mom asked, raising her brows excitedly.

“Maybe..”.

You and your mom exchanged knowing looks as you mimicked his signature brooding expression, causing her to burst into laughter. The sound was warm and familiar, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. It filled your heart with joy, yet beneath the surface, a dull ache lingered. The memory of a conversation from what felt like a past life weighed on your mind. She was a kind woman—selfless, devoted. Was it truly wrong for her to have been ambitious? To have wanted more, after spending her entire life working tirelessly for her children? She was simple at heart, never asking for much. A flawed human, yes, but still the mother you loved with every fiber of your being.

Without a second thought, you crawled closer and wrapped your arms around her, burying your face into her shoulder. The warmth of her embrace was immediate as she instinctively draped an arm over you, her laughter fading into quiet concern.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle yet firm.

A lump formed in your throat, making it impossible to speak. You simply nodded, gripping the fabric of her sleeve a little tighter.

“Can you stop being so emo?” Ren deadpanned from across the table, breaking the silence.

A surprised giggle escaped your lips.

“Dick!” You shot back, sniffling as you leaned back onto your cushion.

“Language, Y/N!” your mom scolded, though there was no real bite to her words.

“Sorry… Dick-san,” you corrected yourself, purposefully avoiding her gaze.

Ren couldn’t hold it in anymore—his giggles burst forth, and soon, you joined him. Laughter rippled through the dining room, filling the space with warmth, momentarily washing away the heaviness in your chest.

You walked into your room with a smile on your face, a rare kind of lightness in your steps. The day had been kind to you, filling your chest with a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time. You placed your bag on your study chair, its usual spot, and let your eyes drift to the blue paper lying on your desk. It was as if it had been waiting for you. You picked it up, running your fingers over the slightly crumpled edges before reading the three words printed on it—Make a wish. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you held it a little longer, as if hoping the words would whisper their magic into your heart.

Without another thought, you slipped the paper under your pillow and crawled into bed. The ceiling above blurred as tears welled up in your eyes, sliding down silently, tracing cold lines on your cheeks. It was only now, in the quiet solitude of your room, that you finally understood—why your heart felt both light and unbearably heavy at the same time. You were happy, yes, but not over him. The realization settled over you like a weight you didn’t know you were still carrying. A part of you despised him, resented the way he had left you tangled in memories you couldn’t escape. And yet, another part—one you wished you could silence—still longed for him. Still wondered why life had given you this moment of happiness but had refused to let you have him too.

A soft chuckle bubbled up through your throat, shaky and bitter, as more tears seeped into your pillow. How greedy of you to want it all. The fatal flaw of human nature—greed. Was that what this was? Wanting happiness and love at the same time, as if the universe hadn’t already decided what you could and couldn’t have? You took a deep, trembling breath, wiping your face as you reached for your phone.

His number. You still remembered it, every digit burned into your mind. Almost unconsciously, your fingers tapped it in, and you stared at the screen, at the sequence of numbers that once connected you to him. The thought crossed your mind like a whisper—If I call now, just to hear his voice… would he pick up? Would he hesitate? Would he sigh before answering? Would he want to talk to you, even now?

Doubt gnawed at you. Should I call? And if he answered… what would I even say?

Your thumb hovered over the call icon, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. It would take just a second, just one small movement to bridge the silence between you.

But before you could tap the screen, your phone vibrated in your hand. A notification flashed across the display.

It was from Nanami.

Nanami: Hello y/n. Sorry for messaging you so late. I apologize for cutting out conversation short today. I would like to continue it. Would you be available to discuss it over lunch sometime?

y/n: Hello. I look forward to continuing our conversation. Will you be out of office tomorrow?

Nanami: Yes. I am flying out tomorrow to meet with a client. I will be back in 2 weeks.

y/n: Good luck for your meeting :) Looking forward to our conversation :)

Nanami: That’s good to hear. I will see you tomorrow. Good Night.

Y/n: Good night.

You stretched your arms above your head as you woke up five minutes before your alarm rang. The soft glow of early morning light filtered through your curtains, casting gentle shadows across your room. Turning off the soon-to-ring alarm, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. A cool breeze drifted in as you opened the window, carrying the crisp scent of the morning air. You took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill your lungs, a simple but refreshing start to the day.

Over the past few days, you had come to a realization—you needed balance. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Life had been moving at a relentless pace, and you often found yourself dwelling on things that had already passed, replaying scenarios in your head that you had no control over anymore. But that had to stop. You had to accept that whatever had to happen, happened. It was in the past, and no amount of overthinking was going to change it. Moving forward, you wanted to be more intentional about your time, about how you took care of yourself.

With Maya’s help, you had finally found some skincare that suited your skin. It had been trial and error for a while, and you had never really paid much attention to it before. But now, cleansing your face and applying a light moisturizer every morning had become a part of your routine—something small, but something that makes you feel good. You also started attending yoga classes three days a week, incorporating morning meditation into your daily schedule. At first, sitting still and focusing on your breath felt unnatural, but as the days went by, you began to enjoy the sense of calm it brought you. It was a slow, grounding practice, a stark contrast to the chaos of daily life.

To be honest, you felt good about it. You had always been skeptical of the so-called "self-care" routines promoted all over social media. It all seemed like a marketing gimmick—just another way to sell overpriced products and push people towards overconsumption. But as you settled into your own routine, you realized that self-care wasn’t about buying things you didn’t need; it was about creating habits that made you feel like a better version of yourself. The clarity that came with a consistent routine was something you hadn’t expected, but you welcomed it.

On top of that, you had started taking a pottery class with Hitoshi. He was exceptionally good at it, his hands shaping the clay with ease, as if it were second nature to him. You, on the other hand, were still figuring things out. You had done some ceramics back in college, but nothing that compared to his skill level. Still, you were determined to keep going. There was something incredibly satisfying about working with your hands, molding something from nothing, watching it take shape. The imperfections didn’t bother you as much as they used to. It was a process, just like everything else in life.

Hobbies, routine, balance—they were all good for you. You were finally starting to understand that.

On the work front, things were looking good as well. Nanami was coming back to the office today, and you were excited to share your project progress with him and get his thoughts on items you were unsure about. His insight always brought a fresh perspective, and you were hoping for some clarity on the lingering issues in your report. So, you packed your bags and got dressed in a navy blue pleated skirt and a light blue sweater to beat the slight chill in the air. Your ever-trusted white sneakers were all ready and waiting at the door as you said your goodbye to your mom and hurriedly stepped out.

The streets looked especially busy today. Lots of black cars with tinted windows lined the roads, idling at the curbs, their drivers standing around, speaking into earpieces or quietly observing passersby. It was a little unusual, but you chalked it up to the trade summit happening in Kyoto this week. You had seen news reports about the influx of foreign delegations and the heightened security measures around the city, so it made sense that the streets were bustling with official-looking vehicles.

As you parked your bike in the usual spot, you noticed that a lot of similar cars were lined outside the office as well. That was strange. Usually, the client visits were low-key, nothing that warranted this level of presence.

“Morning, Y/N!” Maya chirped as she walked up to you, her coffee cup in hand. She was in her usual sleek business-casual attire, her blazer casually draped over her arm.

“Maya! Morning!” You smiled as you locked your bike. Maya and Juno shared an apartment close to the office and often walked in together, so you were surprised to see only Maya today.

“Where’s Juno?” You asked as the two of you began walking towards the office entrance, weaving between the neatly trimmed trees that lined the pathway.

Maya took a sip of her coffee before responding, “He had to come in early today to prepare for the meeting with the big client from Tokyo.”

“New client? I didn’t know about the new cliente.” Your brows furrowed as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your emails in case you had missed an important announcement.

“Chill.” Maya laughed. “They’re just visiting today. Probably to start a new project in Kyoto, and apparently, they want to collaborate with us to get some street cred.” She giggled, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “You know Juno, he likes to triple-check everything, and the finance team has been lean for a while, so he has to do some extra work.”

“Aaah… I see.” You breathed a sigh of relief. “Looks like an important client, though. I saw a lot of those black cars on my way here. I thought they were here for the summit.”

“Me too!” Maya nodded. “But then Juno told me about this big-shot client. Between the two of us, it’s a multi-million-dollar project. Nanami-san has been trying to get this project for quite some time.”

“Really? What changed?” You asked, curiosity piqued.

Maya shrugged as she tapped her ID card to check in at the entrance. “No one knows. They’ve been rejecting our proposal for two years, and now they’re suddenly ready to move forward.”

You nodded thoughtfully. Even inside, the office was bustling. Employees were gathered in small groups, speaking in hushed tones, some looking over documents, others straightening their suits as if bracing for an important encounter. The energy was different—there was an air of anticipation.

As you walked in, you overheard snippets of conversation. Words like ‘contract finalization,’ ‘strict timeline,’ and ‘biggest deal of the year’ floated through the air. The excitement was palpable.

Juno rushed over, adjusting his tie and holding a tablet. “Y/N! You made it just in time.”

“For what?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“They want to see our project proposal,” Juno said, looking slightly out of breath. “Nanami-san asked if you could present some of your findings on the community project. Apparently, the client is particularly interested in that section.”

Your stomach did a little flip. Present? Today? To a client you didn’t even know was coming until this morning? “Wait, I thought this was just an initial visit,” you said cautiously.

Juno shook his head. “Things are moving fast. They might be signing today if all goes well.”

You exchanged a glance with Maya, who simply grinned and patted your shoulder. “Looks like you’re in the spotlight, Y/N.”

Taking a deep breath, you straightened up. “Alright. Let’s do this.” You were confident that you had done some really good work and hoped that you could make Nanami proud.

Whatever had changed the client’s mind, this was a major opportunity—and you were about to play a part in it.

“Oh I need to check some things with the IT so I will go ahead. Catch you at lunch?”. Maya raised an eyebrow.

“I might be having lunch with Nanami today”. You smiled.

Maya gave you a teasing look. The gang had been teasing you with Nanami ever since the two of you started talking on the phone and texting. You felt giddy but you knew it would take you some time to completely get over him. “It’s a work lunch!”. You added.

“Sure. I believe you!”. Maya rolled her eyes and waved you bye. 

Walking up to the elevator you were excited to meet Nanami today. All the talking and texting on the phone over the past two weeks had made you feel a bit closer to him.Even if some conversations were about the analysis you were working on you felt closer to him .You were lost in your thoughts about Nanami when the elevator doors opened. 

You looked up, and time stopped.

Standing in front of you, bathed in the soft morning light, was Gojo Satoru. His white hair caught the sun just right, making it glow like a halo, but the smirk tugging at his lips was anything but angelic. He wore his signature blue Zegna sweater and fitted trousers, effortlessly elegant yet impossibly relaxed. His gaze, hidden behind dark-tinted lenses, was trained on you—steady, unreadable, predatory in a way that made your breath hitch.

The elevator doors were about to close when he reached out, pressing a button without breaking eye contact. “Gettin’ in?” His voice was smooth, teasing, dripping with something that made your stomach tighten.

“I… yes.” You swallowed hard and stepped in, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

The doors slid shut, enclosing the two of you in a space suddenly too small, too warm. The silence crackled. You could feel his presence beside you—broad shoulders, lean frame, the faint scent of something expensive and clean, laced with an undertone of danger. His gaze was heavy, deliberate, traveling over you in a way that made your skin burn. You refused to look at him, but your body betrayed you, every nerve ending acutely aware of his proximity.

Your head was spinning so fast that when the elevator gave a tiny jolt, your balance wavered. Your breath hitched as you stumbled slightly only to be caught by firm hands.

One large palm splayed against your waist, the other curling gently around your wrist, steadying you with ease. His grip was firm, warm, the heat of his touch searing through the layers of your clothes. You sucked in a sharp breath, finally daring to look up.

Gojo was watching you, the usual playful smirk nowhere to be seen. Instead, something darker flickered across his face, something unreadable yet entirely consuming. His fingers flexed slightly before he let go, his touch lingering just a second too long.

"Careful," he murmured, voice softer now, but no less dangerous.

When the elevator chimed and the doors slid open to the top floor, you bolted, clutching your bag as if it were a lifeline. You barely registered where you were going, only stopping once you reached your office chair. Exhaling shakily, you forced yourself to focus—until you glanced up and saw him through the transparent door.

Gojo Satoru, still smirking, was walking towards Nanami’s office. But just before disappearing inside, he turned his head—locking eyes with you through the glass.

And this time, you couldn’t look away.

Only when he disappeared behind the door did you finally let out the breath you had been holding. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, heart pounding like a war drum. Beads of sweat rolled down your forehead, sliding down your neck, and your throat felt parched, as if you had swallowed dust. You could still feel the ghost of his touch burning on your waist, a brand that refused to fade. You knew what he was capable of. You knew the kind of power he wielded, the lines he had already crossed. And yet—the butterflies were back. A treacherous warmth spread through your body, leaving you weak at the knees.

Your vision blurred as you stumbled down the dimly lit L-shaped corridor toward the bathroom. A few people greeted you, their voices distant, but you barely managed a nod. Some gave you questioning looks, sensing something was wrong. You didn’t care. You just needed to get away.

The moment you locked the bathroom door behind you, you rushed to the sink. Cold water. That was all you could think about. You splashed it over your face again and again, until your cheeks stung, until strands of your hair were soaked, clinging to your skin. But you didn’t care. You needed to wake up. This had to be some kind of nightmare. Why was he here? What did he want? A thousand thoughts clashed in your mind, each one more terrifying than the last. You wiped the patch of skin he had touched so harshly that you almost gave yourself a rash. 

You looked up, meeting your own reflection. The blood had drained from your face, leaving you ghostly pale. You looked like you had aged overnight.

Straightening up, you took a slow, deliberate breath. What were you so afraid of? He didn’t know you. He didn’t know anything about you. He did not exist in your reality.

All you had to do was stay out of his way. Yes, stay out of his way.

Not too hard.

You could do it.

Grabbing a paper towel, you wiped your face, inhaled deeply, and stepped out.

“y/n! Are you seeing this?” Hitoshi exclaimed as you walked into your office, his voice laced with urgency. Maya and Suzume sat on the love seat, looking nervous, their hands clasped together in silent tension.

“What happened?” You asked, your brows knitting together as you looked between them. You sniffled slightly, the remnants of a cold making your throat feel scratchy, before making your way to your chair. The air in the room felt thick, charged with unease.

“The chaos!” Suzume blurted out, her eyes darting towards the large glass windows. “They are everywhere.”

You exhaled, leaning back in your chair. “So what? It’s just a matter of a few days, and once the project is finalized, they will be out of here,” you said, trying to sound convincing, but your own words felt hollow even to you.

“Y/n,” Suzume called out, her voice unsteady. “This is not a project. Nobody brings this many people for a project.”

She was right. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably as you processed her words. It was unusual—no, it was more than that. It was downright alarming. And then there was him. His presence alone made this situation far more complicated.

“What are you implying?” you asked, your voice quieter this time, as if afraid to hear the answer.

Heavy silence hung over the room. No one wanted to voice what you all knew deep down. The truth was there, glaring and undeniable. Maya bit her nails nervously, her eyes refusing to meet yours. Finally, she whispered, “It’s an acquisition.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You exchanged glances with your team, all of them reflecting the same fear. Change was coming, and not the kind you could easily maneuver around.

But you had to keep the morale up. “So what if it is?” You straighten your posture, forcing a confident tone. “We are the core team. Our jobs are secure. You guys don’t need to worry. And as far as all this chaos goes, an acquisition doesn’t necessarily mean that they will move here. That wouldn’t make sense. They can acquire and let us be as well.”

You saw their shoulders drop slightly, the tension easing just a fraction. “It’s going to be fine. We just need to make sure that we nail the presentation, and we’ll see where to go from there.”

“Can you please talk to Nanami-san?” Maya asked, her voice hopeful.

“Yes! Please, y/n!” Suzume added. “I… please, y/n.”

“Now?” you asked, your nerves kicking in.

“If possible,” Hitoshi said, his tone almost pleading. “You are the only one he will listen to! I know this! Please!”.

You bit your lip nervously, pulled out your phone, and began typing.

y/n: Hi, I know you must be busy, but can we please talk? It’s urgent.

You set your phone down, uncertain of when or if Nanami would reply. To your surprise, your phone buzzed almost immediately.

Nanami: Sure. You can come to my office.

“Okay. I will go and talk to him. Stay here!” You grabbed your phone and hurried to his office, hoping—praying—not to run into Gojo on the way.

You tapped on the door gently, your voice steady despite the nerves bubbling under your skin. “It’s me.”

“Come in,” Nanami replied, his calm voice providing the smallest sense of reassurance.

Stepping inside, a smile unconsciously formed on your face at the sight of him. But your smile faltered the moment another figure swiveled in his chair.

Gojo Satoru.

You felt the air shift as he turned, his signature grin in place, eyes sharp and knowing.

“Y/n, meet Gojo Satoru,” Nanami said, first looking at you, then at Gojo.

You swallowed, plastering on a polite smile. “Hi. Nice to meet you.” You gave a courteous bow, mentally chanting Fake it till you make it, y/n.

Gojo smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Nice to meet you… y/n,” he drawled, drawing out your name with an unsettling familiarity.

“Please, have a seat,” Nanami offered, gesturing to the chair next to Gojo.

Your pulse quickened. “Oh, it’s alright. I can come in later,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice steady.

Nanami, ever perceptive, caught the nervousness in your expression. He exhaled softly before speaking. “Mr. Gojo, if you could excuse me, I have something to discuss with y/n, please excuse me” He stood, moving around his desk, and gently took your hand, guiding you towards the door.

The moment was brief but not unnoticed. You could feel Gojo’s eyes on you, his gaze lingering with keen interest as you stepped out with Nanami, the weight of the encounter pressing heavily on your shoulders.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”, Nanami asked with genuine curiosity as the two of you stood outside his office.

“Yes. Yes I am but..all this..what is going on?”. You fiddled with your phone in your hand.

“I know this is too sudden. I wish I could explain in detail but..”. Nanami looked at you like he was searching for the right word, “The truth is that we are being acquired”.

“What about-”.

“All jobs are safe y/n. I assure you. It was a key condition”.

“Will we have to move?”. 

“No. We are not going anywhere”. Nanami smiled.

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much! Everyone was so nervous. I was so nervous.”.

Nanami smiled. “Don’t be. Nothing changes for us”. Nanami felt compelled to hold you but he couldn’t. Not now. Not here. Not yet. Instead he squeezed your hand gently to reassure you.

You nodded happily. “I will leave you to attend to..him”. You nudge your head towards the door.

Nanami smiled and went back in.

“Good news everyone!”. You announced as you walked into your office confidently. “Nothing changes for us. Our jobs are safe. We are not going anywhere”.

“Seriously?!”. Maya jumped from the couch and hugged you.

Suzume joined in, “Thank you, y/n! I was so scared”.

“Can I join in as well?”Hitoshi asked.

You all nodded and were soon in a group hug.

“But wait..”, Hitoshi was the first to pull away. “...If we are not going anywhere does it mean they are moving here?”.

You hadn’t thought about that possibility yet. 

“Who cares if they move here? They are too uptight to survive here. As long as we have each other we should be fine right?”. Maya added happily.

“Yes”. Suzume spoke. “This is my office and this is my gang. No one messes with us!”.

You smiled painfully. Would he actually move here? No. He loves his Tokyo office too much. Everyone he loves and cares for is there. He will never move here.

The conference room was silent as you set up your presentation. The projector flickered to life, displaying your carefully prepared slides. Nanami sat at the head of the table, his arms crossed, his eyes sharp and attentive. Hitoshi tapped his pen against the table, looking eager yet tense. And then there was Gojo.

He lounged back in his chair, long legs stretched out, one arm lazily resting on the table as he watched you. His gaze was heavy, teasing, knowing. It made the air feel thick, your skin prickling under his attention.

You cleared your throat. "Good afternoon, everyone. I'll be walking you through our marketing strategy for the new community center." You clicked the remote, and the first slide appeared.

"Mmm, community engagement," Gojo murmured, "I do love getting involved."

Your fingers momentarily slipped on the remote. You shot him a sharp glance, but he merely grinned, tilting his head as if daring you to react.

Nanami cleared his throat. "Y/n, continue."

You steadied yourself. "Right. As I was saying, our goal is to position the community center as a cornerstone of social support and development. We've outlined a multi-tiered marketing approach to ensure maximum reach and engagement."

You advanced to the next slide, outlining key engagement strategies. "First, we plan to leverage digital marketing—social media campaigns, email outreach, and targeted ads. This will help us attract younger demographics while maintaining communication with existing community members."

Gojo hummed softly. "You think social media alone is enough? A few posts and hashtags, and suddenly people show up?"

You met his gaze, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened. "No, which is why we’re also implementing offline strategies, including community events, partnerships with local businesses, and promotional materials distributed across key locations."

Nanami nodded approvingly. "That’s a well-rounded approach. Have you considered potential barriers to engagement, such as accessibility or public perception?"

You smiled slightly, grateful for the constructive question. "Yes, accessibility is a key concern, so we're prioritizing inclusive events and transportation support. As for public perception, we’ve designed a community outreach program to build trust through transparency. Open house events and Q&A sessions will allow residents to voice their concerns and feel involved."

Nanami’s lips curled slightly upward. "Impressive. That level of detail will go a long way in securing support."

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you looked down briefly before moving to the next slide.

A soft scoff came from Gojo. "Huh. Didn’t realize Nanami gave out compliments now. Must be a special occasion."

You glanced at him, but he was already looking away, his jaw tight. His fingers drummed against the table a little too firmly, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen.

You swallowed and continued. "Next, we have our timeline—broken down into three phases: awareness, engagement, and retention. In the awareness phase, we’ll generate buzz through teaser campaigns and influencer collaborations. Engagement will focus on community-driven events, and retention will involve long-term initiatives like membership programs and recurring events."

Gojo leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "And how do you plan to measure success?"

You hesitated for only a second before answering. "Through key performance indicators: attendance rates, social media analytics, membership sign-ups, and community feedback. By tracking these, we can adapt our strategy as needed."

Gojo smirked. "Smart. Adaptability is attractive."

Your breath hitched, and you fought to keep your expression neutral. Nanami, seemingly unfazed, ignored him. "What’s your budget allocation for these strategies?"

You exhaled, focusing back on the presentation. "We’ve broken the budget into three main categories: promotional materials, digital marketing, and event organization. The majority is allocated to events since direct community interaction is our primary goal."

Nanami nodded again, thoughtful. "That’s a sound distribution. Have you anticipated any risks?"

You moved to the next slide. "Yes. Low initial engagement, budget constraints, and potential resistance from the community. We’ve developed contingency plans, including alternative funding options and additional outreach efforts."

Gojo leaned in slightly, his voice softer. "And if something unexpected happens? What’s your personal approach when things don’t go as planned?"

You hesitated, feeling the intensity in his stare. "I adapt," you said finally. "Find solutions on the spot. Panic doesn’t solve problems."

Gojo’s smirk deepened. "Good answer."

Nanami shifted in his chair. "I think that covers everything. Well done, y/n. Your strategy is comprehensive and well-thought-out."

Your chest warmed at the praise, and you gave a small nod. "Thank you."

Gojo let out a breathy chuckle, tapping his fingers against the table. "Guess we’re lucky to have someone so capable."

Nanami stood. "We’ll move forward with the plan. I’ll arrange for a follow-up next week."

As the meeting ended, you began gathering your notes. Nanami reached over to hand you a stray document, his fingers grazing yours. "You really did a great job. This will set a solid foundation for our project."

You smiled, nodding. "I appreciate that, Nanami. I really do."

From the corner of your eye, you saw Gojo shift in his seat. His usual smug expression darkened slightly, his lips pressing together in a thin line.

Then, just as you turned, Gojo suddenly stood, stepping closer than necessary. His fingers brushed the small of your back, a light but unmistakable touch. "Careful, y/n," he murmured near your ear. 

Your breath caught, and you turned your head slightly, only to find his gaze locked onto yours, a knowing glint in his eyes. The room felt too small, too charged. Was he seriously flirting with you? Here? Now? When he didn’t even know you? Dick!

Nanami cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "Let’s wrap up. We all have work to do."

Gojo exhaled dramatically. "Right, right. Work first."

As you gathered your things, Gojo lingered for just a second longer watching you attentively like a predator sizing up a prey.

The restaurant hums with quiet conversation, the soft clinking of silverware filling the space between you. It’s been two weeks since you last saw him—two weeks since you’ve felt this strange sense of steadiness that only seems to settle when Nanami is near.

You shouldn’t have missed him. You tell yourself it’s just the adjustment period—just the way work has been hectic. But sitting across from him now, watching as he carefully rolls up his sleeves, you realize how much you had noticed his absence.

Nanami sets his phone down, screen facing the table. His gestures are always deliberate, his presence as composed as ever, but there’s something almost hesitant about the way his gaze lingers on you before he speaks.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

You shake your head. “Not at all. I just got here.”

He nods, glancing at your glass. “Not drinking?”

You glance at the untouched wine. “Didn’t feel like it.”

His eyes sharpen slightly, just for a second. “You seem tense.”

You exhale, leaning back slightly. “It’s just work.”

Nanami studies you for a moment, quiet and unreadable. Then, as if making a decision, he leans forward slightly, voice softer now.

“As long as I am here, you don’t need to worry about anything.”

The words settle deep in your chest, warm and certain.

You blink, caught off guard. “That’s… a bold statement.”

Nanami doesn’t look away. “It’s the truth.”

Something about the way he says it makes you believe him.

You look down at your plate, focusing on the way your fingers toy with the edge of your napkin. “You don’t have to look out for me.”

“I know,” he says simply. “But I will.”

A quiet moment stretches between you.

Nanami tells himself he shouldn’t have said that. That this is a work lunch, just a routine check-in, nothing more. But the way your shoulders relax ever so slightly, the way you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding—he knows he can’t take it back.

And worse, he doesn’t want to.

So he clears his throat, shifting the conversation back to safer territory. Work, deadlines, next week’s meetings. He keeps his voice even, his demeanor steady, but beneath the surface, he feels it—the way his restraint is beginning to fray at the edges.

Somewhere between discussing a client proposal and finishing your meal, he finds himself speaking before he can stop himself.

“You can call me Kento.”

You blink, looking up. “What?”

Nanami’s jaw tightens, like he’s already regretting it, but his voice remains steady. “Outside of work. In the office, we keep things professional. I’d rather not have people getting the wrong idea.”

 “And what idea would that be?”, You asked hesitantly.

He holds your gaze, fingers tightening slightly around his glass. “That I favor you.”

The words come out firmer than he intends, laced with something he refuses to name.

You could tease him, lighten the moment with a joke. But instead, you let the words settle, something unreadable flickering in your own eyes before you nod.

“Alright,” you say softly. “Kento.”

Nanami exhales slowly, but he doesn’t allow himself to react. Not to the way his name sounds coming from you. Not to the way his pulse betrays him.

The plates have been cleared, the check untouched between you, but neither of you move to leave just yet.

And for now, that’s enough.

Gojo woke up sweating and panting, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. His heart pounded violently against his ribs as he frantically scanned his surroundings. The dim morning light filtered through the curtains of his penthouse bedroom, casting long shadows across the room. His sheets were tangled around his legs, damp with sweat. His fingers trembled as he reached for his phone on the nightstand, the bright screen forcing him to blink rapidly.

1st January 2021, 10:00 AM.

A sharp, throbbing pain coursed through his skull as he fell back onto his pillow, pressing his fingers against his temples in an attempt to dull the headache. His head felt like it was being split open, every pulse sending fresh waves of nausea through him. He gritted his teeth and let out a low groan, his body tense as he forced himself to take slow, deliberate breaths.

What the hell was going on? His mind raced, searching for an explanation. Was it just a nightmare? A lingering hallucination from the relentless drinking? The hazy remnants of some twisted memory? His throat was dry, and his body felt heavier than usual, like he was sinking into the mattress. Something was off—terribly off.

As he sat across from the new recruit, Gojo felt a bitterness seep into his heart, curling around his ribs like a vice. The poor girl was not at fault here—he knew that. But that didn’t stop him from despising her nonetheless.

He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back before half-heartedly picking up her resume. The paper crinkled slightly between his fingers, his grip unintentionally tight.

“Can I just say, sir, that I am so excited to work with you! I have dreamt of working for you—I mean, for Domain Dynamics—for such a long time, and now that I’m sitting here, I—”

“Did I ask?” Gojo interrupted, raising a brow as he leaned back in his chair, his tone flat, his expression unreadable.

“I… I’m sorry,” she stammered, her enthusiasm instantly deflating.

“Do you even know where your office is?”

“Uh… no,” she admitted, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Gojo let out an exasperated sigh before pressing a button on his desk. “Miwa. In. Now.”

Within seconds, Miwa rushed in, her ever-efficient presence a stark contrast to the girl’s nervous energy. “Yes, sir.”

Gojo gestured vaguely in Sakura’s direction. “Can you show…” He paused, tilting his head slightly as if only now realizing he didn’t know her name. “What’s your name?”

“Sakura,” she replied, her voice quieter now.

“Yeah. Can you show Sakura her new… office and make sure she’s settled in?” His words were dismissive, as though she were an afterthought.

“Yes, sir!” Miwa chirped, already gesturing for the girl to follow.

“Oh, and Miwa,” Gojo added casually, just as they were about to leave. His lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “Don’t move her into the office across from mine. Keep that one empty.”

Miwa hesitated. “But sir… that’s where—”

“I have a feeling it’ll be filled soon.” His smile widened, sharp and almost cruel.

Miwa nodded, understanding her cue. “Sure, sir. Sakura, please come with me.”

Sakura cast one last, uncertain glance at Gojo before trailing after Miwa, her earlier excitement all but gone.

With a sigh, he shifted in his seat, his foot bouncing against the floor in a restless rhythm. His fingers skimmed through the stack of resumes on his desk until they landed on one buried beneath Sakura’s. He pulled it free, lifting it to eye level.

The photo attached to the top corner caught his attention first. A smiling face, bright yet oddly familiar. His chest tightened—not with unease, but with something warmer, something steadier. It was rare for a simple photograph to evoke such a feeling.

But his moment of quiet curiosity was interrupted when his gaze dropped to the bottom of the page. A small, neatly printed note stood out against the crisp paper: Candidate withdrew.

His brows furrowed. Withdraw? Who in their right mind would turn down an offer at Domain Dynamics?

His fingers curled around the edges of the resume as he reached for his phone, his expression unreadable. He pressed a button, and the line connected almost instantly.

“I’m sending you a resume,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Find out everything about this person. Everything.”

A pause, then a sharp, efficient reply. “Yes, sir.”

Gojo exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the paper as he glanced at the photo once more. This wasn’t over. Not yet.

It had been days, and he knew everything he needed to know about the mystery candidate. Every detail, every piece of information had been meticulously gathered, analyzed, and stored away in his mind. And yet, something was missing—pieces of the puzzle that refused to fit, gaps in the picture that made no sense. It gnawed at him, an itch he couldn’t scratch, a frustration that wouldn’t let go.

For the past week, sleep had eluded him. Every night, the same dream. Over and over. He was driving—no, running—through hazy, dimly lit streets, his pulse pounding, his breath ragged. Searching. Desperately looking for someone. But who? The answer was always just out of reach, slipping through his fingers like smoke. He woke up every morning with the same frustration, his mind clouded, his nerves frayed. It was affecting him more than he cared to admit. He could barely focus on anything else.

As he stepped into his penthouse, he loosened his tie roughly, exhaling sharply. The tension in his shoulders never seemed to leave these days. He had dismissed the security team for the night—he needed silence, space to think. His sanctuary, untouched and undisturbed. But the moment he walked through the heavy wooden doors, he knew something was off. A sound, faint but distinct, came from the kitchen.

He froze, muscles tensing.

“Hello?” His voice was sharp, edged with suspicion. “Who is there?”

Silence. No reply.

His jaw clenched as he moved towards the couch, reaching under it with practiced ease. His fingers wrapped around the cold steel of his hidden revolver. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled it out, steadying his grip before making his way toward the kitchen.

“Who is there?” he repeated, voice lower this time. Controlled. Dangerous.

He turned the corner, gun raised, finger steady on the trigger—only to be met with a sight that made him pause.

A man sat at the kitchen island, completely at ease, dressed in an expensive blue velvet coat. He was eating a bowl of cereal.

The man looked up, spoon mid-air, and grinned. “Hello!” he said cheerfully, as if this were a casual breakfast meet-up. “No need to get aggressive.”

Gojo didn’t lower the gun. His cerulean eyes narrowed. “Who the fuck are you, and what the hell are you doing here?”

The man sighed dramatically, putting his spoon down with deliberate slowness. Then, reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a silk handkerchief and dabbed his mouth. Every movement was calm. Unbothered.

“Come on, Satoru,” he said, tilting his head. “Forgot me already?”

Gojo’s grip on the gun tightened. His patience was wearing thin. “You have two minutes to explain yourself before I—”

“Before you what?” The man raised an eyebrow, amused. “Shoot me?” He leaned forward slightly. “Go ahead. But I should warn you… no bullet in the world can harm me.” His voice dropped, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “So, if you actually want some answers, I’d suggest you take a seat.” The man pointed at the seat opposite to him.

Gojo didn’t lower the gun, but after a long moment, he moved to the stool across from the man, his expression cold. “Continue.”

The man smirked. “Wow, straight to the point, huh?” He leaned back, stretching lazily. “Alright then… where should we start?”

“Who are you?” Gojo asked sternly, his grip tightening around the gun.

The man waved a hand dismissively, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “Irrelevant. Ask a better question.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched. His usual confidence wavered against the man’s unshaken composure. “How do you know me?”

The man chuckled, a deep, knowing laugh that sent a chill down Gojo’s spine. “I know everyone in this world,” he said simply, as if stating an undeniable fact. Then, with an exaggerated motion, he scooped another spoonful of food into his mouth.

The silence between them was thick, weighed down by unspoken tension. Only the sound of loud, deliberate crunching filled the space.

Gojo inhaled sharply. “Are you here to kill me?”

The man stopped chewing mid-bite. Slowly, he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then, he leaned back against his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Kill you?” he repeated, almost amused. “I saved your life, Satoru. From the same gun you’re holding right now.”

Gojo frowned, glancing down at the weapon in his hands.

“The bullet in the barrel,” the man continued, voice unwavering, “has your name written on it. Not mine.”

Gojo’s fingers flexed over the grip. “When?” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper.

The man tilted his head, studying him carefully. “The dreams…” he mused, stroking his chin. “Satoru, are they really dreams? Or are they flashes of memories?”

Gojo stiffened. A sharp inhale.

“How do—”

“What do you want the most right now?” The man cut him off, his voice softer this time, almost hypnotic.

Gojo stared at him blankly. The question caught him off guard.

“Hmm?” The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What do you want the most right now? At this moment. Money? Power? Answers?” His dark eyes glinted under the dim light. “I can grant you one wish. But first, you need to tell me… What do you want the most right now?”

“What do you mean?”. Gojo scoffed. “Who are you a magician?”.

“Funny huh?”. The man quipped. “How about I tell you about the dreams you have been having?”.

Gojo remained silent.

“So the dreams about wanting to save someone? Running through the dingy lanes? A bridge? A gun? Feeling lost and helpless?”.

Gojo stared at him silently. He had nothing to say. There was no way this guy knew about all of it. He hadn’t even shared it with Geto.

“Oh, only because Geto doesn’t know, I can’t know?”. He teased, leaving Gojo startled. “Look, I know everything. So what is it going to be? I can leave right now. I can make a meteor crash and destroy this earth. What do you want?”.

“Okay, even if you do know about…my dreams..how do I know that you can give me what I want?”. Gojo asked, still unsure.

“Hmmm, Interesting. Go ahead and ask for something instant. Try”.

“An apple”. He said.

With a poof an apple appeared in Gojo’s hand. “Go ahead and have a bite. It’s real”.

Gojo sniffed the apple and then took a bite and indeed it was real.

“A cat”. Gojo said.

The man rolled his eyes, “You are allergic to cats”. 

Gojo didn’t respond immediately. His mind raced, trying to find footing in the spiraling confusion. He had fought countless enemies, faced death a thousand times over, but this—this was different.

The man waited patiently, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The air between them felt electric, charged with something unseen yet tangible.

Gojo parted his lips, but no words came out.

Because for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what to say. Words had always come easily to him—sharp, clever, effortless. But now, standing in the vast emptiness, facing the man before him, he found himself lost. His lips parted slightly, but nothing coherent escaped. Only hesitation, only uncertainty.

“I…” Gojo’s voice barely made a sound. His eyes flickered between the man and the empty space between them, as if searching for an answer that wasn’t there. He felt the weight of something heavy, something that had been pressing on his chest for far too long. His throat tightened. He swallowed hard, but it did little to stop the burn behind his eyes.

And then, a single word. One word raced through his mind, over and over, beating in his skull like a relentless drum. A word that had haunted him since the start of the year, threading itself through every thought, every moment of solitude. A word so powerful it had rooted itself deep inside him, becoming a part of his very existence. A word that embodied his wants, his needs, his deepest desires.

“Y/n…”

The man before him smiled, pleased, as if he had been expecting this answer all along.

“That’s your wish?” he asked, voice calm, measured, almost teasing.

“Yes.” Gojo breathed. The moment the word left his lips, he felt it settle within him, as though confirming what he already knew in his bones. It wasn’t just a wish—it was a truth more certain than his own existence. That’s what he wanted. That’s what he needed. Whether this was all a trick or not, he had to take a chance and know who y/n is.

“Y/n.”

The man tilted his head, amused. “Do you even know who that is?”

Gojo’s fingers trembled as he slowly lowered the gun he had been holding, the weight of it suddenly insignificant. He knew everything about her and yet nothing at all.

“...no,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t know why he was drawn to her. Why her name clung to his mind like a stubborn ghost. Why, out of all the possibilities, she was the only one he could think of. But he knew—without reason, without explanation—that he needed to be drawn to her. That whoever she was, she was the answer, the missing piece, the key to something far greater than himself.

His happiness. His life.

The man leaned back, arms crossed, studying him with an expression that was unreadable.

“So let me get this straight,” he said. “You don’t know who she is, but you’re certain she’s what you want?”

“Yes.” Gojo didn’t waver this time. His voice was steady. Sure.

The man chuckled, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “I can give you everything, you know. Power beyond imagination. Wealth that no mortal could ever dream of. I could carve a place for you in history so grand, no man or god could ever erase it! I could make you untouchable!” His eyes gleamed with something dangerous. “And you’re telling me, out of all that, you still choose ….y/n? Someone you don’t even know”

Gojo met his gaze without hesitation. A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips, the kind of smile that carried the weight of certainty.

“Yes.”

The man let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if entertained by the sheer absurdity of it all. “Good job, Satoru,” he murmured, his amusement clear.

But then, something shifted. The lightness in his tone faded, replaced by something far heavier, something more ominous.

His expression darkened.

“But tell me,” he said, voice dropping just slightly. “Are you sure you can handle what I’m about to show you?”

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken meaning.

Gojo nodded.

No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just certainty.

The man exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing slightly before he finally smirked. “Alright, then.”

And with that, the world around them began to change.

After what felt like an eternity, Gojo opened his eyes and found himself sitting on his couch, his body trembling as if he had been drowning in the depths of his own mind. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating, pressing down on his chest like an unbearable weight. Across from him, the man stood in eerie silence, watching him with an expression that held no sympathy ,only truth.

Tears streamed down Gojo’s cheeks, unchecked, raw, his breaths coming in uneven gasps. His fingers dug into his knees as he whispered, voice hoarse and broken, “I… I did that to her.”

The man gave him a slow, measured nod. “All of that.”

Gojo let out a shuddering exhale, his head hanging low as his vision blurred. His mind replayed every moment, every agonizing second he had been forced to relive. Every cruel word he had thrown at you, every time he had turned his back when all you needed was for him to stay. He saw the way your eyes had dimmed, the way your laughter had died in your throat. The moment you stopped reaching for him. And worst of all, the way you looked at him at the very end—broken, betrayed, as if he had torn out your very soul and crushed it beneath his heel.

His gut twisted violently. He thought he had been protecting you. He convinced himself that every decision he made had been for your own good. But no—it had never been about you, had it? It was his selfishness, his arrogance, his fear of losing you in ways he couldn’t control. He had let his love consume him, twist into something unrecognizable. And now, all of it—the pain, the regret, the love he had tried to push away—came rushing back with a force so intense it made him want to tear himself apart.

His nails dug into his palms. He had been ready to die. When he found out you were gone, that you had left this world with nothing but sorrow in your heart, he had walked to the edge of that bridge with every intention of following you. He hadn’t even seen you, hadn’t held your lifeless body, hadn’t been there to say goodbye. Just a hollow message, a whisper of finality.

Gone.

It didn’t seem real. He thought if he ended it right there, he could find you. Maybe in another life, maybe somewhere beyond this hell he created.

He had stood on that bridge, gun in hand, the barrel pressing against his temple as the wind howled around him. His heart was hollow, his mind filled with nothing but you—your scent, your voice, your smile, all the things he had taken for granted.

He couldn't exist in a world where you didn't. It was that simple.

But then, as his finger began to tighten around the trigger, a voice cut through the storm inside his head.

“That won’t bring her back.”

Gojo's breath hitched, his grip on the gun faltering as he turned his head slightly. The man stood there, calm, composed, unaffected by the sheer devastation radiating from him.

“What the hell do you know?” Gojo growled, his voice rough, unhinged.

The man stepped closer, gaze unwavering. “I know you don’t want to die. You want her back. And I can give you that chance.”

Gojo’s hands shook. He wanted to laugh, to scream, to tell this stranger to go to hell. But the weight of those words settled deep within him, a flicker of impossible hope threading through his grief-stricken mind.

He remembered the way he had hesitated, the way his hands had trembled as he lowered the gun. The wind had howled around him, a bitter, unforgiving force, but for the first time since hearing of your death, he had felt something else. A pull. A whisper of something he couldn’t ignore.

Now, sitting here on his couch, he exhaled sharply. He had been given a second chance. A miracle he didn’t deserve. But he wouldn’t waste it. He would find you. He would make things right. He would earn back the love he had shattered, no matter what it took. Even if he had to crawl through hell itself, he would not lose you again.

This time, he wouldn’t let you go.

You belonged to him. And he would make sure that this time, you knew it. 

He looked up at the man, his eyes still red and had a look of determination. “I will redo my fate..for her”.

“Are you sure you can?”. The man smirked, “It won’t be easy”.

“I will do everything in my power to make her mine. This time I will …not mess it up!”.

"Do you love her or do you want her?". The man teased a little more.

Gojo scoffed, shaking his head, a twisted grin pulling at his lips—but there was no amusement in it. It was something darker, something raw, something that pulsed beneath his skin like a second heartbeat. His fingers flexed, nails biting into his palm as his breath came out unsteady, ragged.

“I love her,” he murmured, voice low, almost reverent. Then he laughed, but it was hollow, almost broken. “I love her.”

His chest ached with the weight of it, with the sheer force of what he felt, with the need that had rooted itself so deep inside him it had become part of his very being.

“I love her with every fiber of my existence,” he said again, more forcefully this time, like he was daring the universe to challenge him. “She is the air I need—the only thing that keeps me breathing, the only thing that makes sense. Without her, everything is suffocating. Everything is wrong!”

His voice wavered, but his eyes burned, fever-bright, manic.

“You dare ask me if I love her?", He threw his head back and laughed, "She is the blood in my veins,” he continued, his fingers twitching like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, like he wanted to tear them through his own skin just to prove it. “She’s inside me, running through me, keeping me alive even when I don’t want to be.”

His breath hitched, his expression twisting into something wrecked.

“She’s my bones,” he whispered, pressing his palm against his chest, as if he could feel her there, carved into his ribs, woven into his very structure. “My conscience. My clarity. My fucking ruin.”

His heart was hammering against his ribs now, erratic, frantic, desperate.

“She is my heart, my soul, mine.” His voice cracked, something on the verge of a plea, a demand, an obsession that had long since consumed him. His pupils were blown wide, his pulse wild beneath his skin.

“She is everything to me. Everything!”

His breathing was uneven now, his hands shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands like he was trying to ground himself, like he was trying to stop the storm inside him.

But he couldn’t. He never could. Because she was the storm.

And he was drowning in her.

The two men exchanged deranged smiles. One knowing what was about to happen and the other determined to right his wrongs.

Tag list: @commandertorindhepard @inlove-maze @starlightanyaaa @missybrat @lem-hhn @valleydoli @definetlythinkimanalien @luckyangelballoon @sheep-infog @gojoprincesss @kanaojacksonofc @bubera974 @ginginha @mari-ho14 @mashtura

[fairytsuk1]

get on your knees | (s)

apart of maki's kinktober: the 2024 anthology

prompt: creampie, praise/degradation, secretary!au

pairing: shota aizawa x reader

words: 6.4k

warnings: unprofessionalism, boss/secretary relationship, dom/sub themes, impact play, degradation and praise, strangers to lovers, creampie, body worship

"Yep. Yep, thank you. Call us again if you need further help. Our way is the right way. Thank you. Goodbye."

How much longer could you keep this up? Between shrill old ladies desperate for solutions to their self-caused issues and the men who wanted to turn your customer service line into a phone sex hotline, you were running out of both patience and sympathy.

You knew it'd be dull work when you applied. It was in the name: customer service representative. You didn't mind. Dull work meant working as a stocker and meticulously organizing food products. It meant waking up early and chatting with the same group of people over the same brand of weak coffee every day. It could be meaningless; it could be meaningful.

Your temples are rubbed by your fingers, aching for relief, and you wonder if your company is any good with benefits after you've quit.

Real people were missed by you. No more old women and pervy men. You wanted something substantial. Something real, something alive. You decide you need to get outside, away from the phone. Your poised, fake voice was due for a break.

Your lunch is subbed for an afternoon walk. The same route you always take, the same things you pass by like always. It's all the same. Trees bend and sway under the will of the wind, and you find yourself looking down at the ground. Did you always do that?

The coffee shop is bustling, the bookstore is closed, and the park is full of screaming, laughter, and joy. The police station looks lifeless as always, but the local lawyer's office is… open, shining and bright, and strangely standing out. The actual building is cream and desert colors, yet its sign has bright bulbs exclaiming help wanted.

In tiny font under the main signage, you read "secretary."

It would be dull work. Lawyer jargon, a hot lawyer who you hear from around town is to die for. Like smooth chocolate. Your sneakers pad on the ground before you're even aware of it, carrying you past the threshold of oak doors into the domain of law.

Inside, it's dark and stormy. It is entirely opposite to the outside, making your head spin. It's quiet, and your footsteps echo as you traverse the halls looking for the lawyer. There's no one at the secretary's desk, and you can't help the daunting hand that runs over its ridges as you pass by.

Another oak door sits menacingly ajar. You press forward. Your heart stutters in your chest, butterflies hatching as you see him sitting cleanly, sexy and firm.

There he is. He's got inky black hair pulled neatly into a low bun; your breath catches in your throat when stormy dark eyes pull up from paperwork to you. You feel so exposed, so on display, as you fidget and murmur, "Hello."

He's quick to the chase, "Are you here for the secretary job?"

The lawyer's eyes scan yours, and you find yourself nodding; too afraid to speak further. His eyes then trail over your form, and you wonder if your work-from-home outfit was too casual. How would you have even known you'd have encountered this icy gentleman during your typical stroll?

Aizawa is grateful that the prettiest candidate will come in on his break. He could forgo lunch for you; he'd be fine having that sweet pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

"Hm. Resume?"

Your empty hands are glaringly obvious. Your purse hangs heavy and resumeless on your shoulder.

"I, I don't have–I didn't bring one, I mean."

"Did you see the ad in the paper?"

"No. I was walking and saw the lit-up sign."

"... I see," he drawls, still eyeing you before motioning to the seat in front of him.

Sinking into the cushion, you try to look presentable as you cross your feet–the rip of your stocking just barely visible from where he sits at his woodsy desk. He stares at you before asking.

"What talents do you have?"

"I'm a very hard worker," you pitch softly. "I won several typing awards in school."

He says nothing to that; maybe you've said or done the wrong thing. His hand rubs at the stubble on his chin, and your throat dries up at the various rings decorating his long, pale fingers. You would give anything to feel that scruff between your thighs, nails leaving indents as he plants kiss after kiss up your leg.

"It's very, very dull work. Perhaps too dull for you."

It's an opening. A job you can practically taste on the tip of your tongue.

"I don't mind," you add. "I'll do anything."

The terse stare you both share leaves you sweating. What were the chances: no resume, lack of secretary experience, and you wore ripped stockings. He licks his lips, eyes flickering up and down before nodding to the side.

"Please make me a coffee. Not too much sugar."

You're up in a heartbeat as you grab his half-empty cup. Suddenly, it's obvious you don't know anything about the building you're in as you head to the first door: "It's not that one."

The second one is a bust, and the third opens you up to his quaint office kitchen. Coffee was easy! Sure, you spilled a few coffee grounds and milk. Maybe you struggled with the machine as it brewed its ground beans. In the end, the mug sits hot and ready on his desk. You're ready for him to say it's perfect. That he'll reward you with a black coffee-tinged kiss.

"Too much sugar," he grimaces a bit. "Be here tomorrow at eight a.m."

You were in the parking lot by seven.

He never reveals too much to you. You still don't know so many basic things, even though you know how he likes his coffee, and you've seen how he does push-ups in his office when he's stressed. You see everything and nothing. It's agonizing.

The work is dull. You like it. It's typing letters, queries, and correspondence; it's all stuff Aizawa could be doing but chooses you to do. It makes you feel special in a sick way. You're stumbling from a bump in the carpet as you set a stack of papers on his desk. There is one problem, though.

"I alphabetized all the clients, sir," you say firmly.

"Thank you," he always says your name in that smooth drawl that leaves you drooling.

You're waiting. Waiting for those two words or even a glance up at you. He only sips his steaming coffee and peruses through the paper like you're not even there.

"Is there something you need?"

There was just one problem.

"No, sir," you say. "Sorry."

He never praised you. Aizawa hums, and you're turning on your heel. That took forever to do, and all he could say was, "Thank you." Was it wrong to ask for praise from your boss? The deep boom of his voice shakes you from your thoughts as he calls out after you.

You return like a dog, face alight and waiting. A stir in his gut has Aizawa hot at the back of his neck.

"That outfit… it's sloppy. You represent me. Your hair has flyaways, you leave crumbs everywhere, and you're messy."

Your boss stands and takes measured steps toward you. You're shrinking like prey under his gaze as he jabs at your faults.

"You make typos. You spill coffee grounds when you make my coffee." he's in front of you now, looking down and so close you can feel his breath. "You wear ripped stockings."

"I-I—"

"Don't say anything. Just look, and listen to me."

He is oh so pleased when you nod obediently. What a good girl.

"You represent me. You are the first person clients see when they come seeking my legal counsel. You could put in a little more effort, right?"

You're unsure of an answer. Silence or confirmation? Your knees knock together, "yes, I could."

There's a beat of silence. It seems so loud in the room.

"Good."

You wanted to sink to your knees then and there with an open mouth. An open throat. Aizawa sighs, seemingly relieved, as two big hands clasp onto your shoulders.

"Go home. Take the long way. Look at the sky and the trees and the stray cats. Pet one," he murmurs, and his fingers flick your chin. "Go and enjoy."

Just like that, he's edging away from you like he'd never gotten so close in the first place. Your heart stirs confusedly in your chest, battered from the pointed insults but feeling like they've freed you from any preconceived notions you had regarding your boss and you.

He thought you were good.

It was as if you'd never taken a walk before. Things were bright and so fruitful that there was a natural skip in your step as you brought yourself past the trees, the fountain made of marble with an angel sitting pretty and the people out and about. That joy carried you all the way home. You couldn't get how he looked at you out of his head as you flung yourself upon the bed.

You try practicing how you'd thank him, but it all comes out stilted. Unsure. Who was Mr. Aizawa? Did he like being thanked? You knew what you liked. Your hand brushes against the edge of your underwear as you recall how he'd murmured, "Good."

It just feels right to rub your clit and imagine your boss doing it for you with his hands coated in silvery rings. It'd be a mix of hot and cold as he rubbed at your pussy, "My, you're so wet for me. You really are so naughty."

Your hand twisted tight circles as you ground against your palm, face hot and panting into the sheets as you mewled for Aizawa. The syllables were foreign on your tongue, but you find yourself cumming with a cry of Shota!

After that, it was impossible to stay professional for very long.

Since those harsh criticisms, you'd started putting your all into the little things. New stockings on sale that highlight the smooth expanse of your leg while tucked into dainty kitten heels. You wiped up your mouth and counters after lunch and coffee. You were representing him.

Aizawa had noticed your preening. It was eerily similar to his cats. You would linger in front of him, waiting for a treat. He sighs, sinking into his chair, lids burning with the idea of you on your knees or bent over in front of him. He has to be careful when that familiar twinge of arousal wakes up more than just his mind. His hand comes to palm over the half-chub, but then your voice is filtering in over the phone.

"Sir? Miss Midnight is here," you murmur, and he grips himself over his slacks with a soft groan.

"Tell her I'm not here."

"I think she knows you're here," you say, eyes flickering between the phone and the woman herself, who flips through a magazine.

"Do not let her come back here. It's an order."

There's a click, and you're gone. You always listen so obediently. It was his favorite thing. Midnight's voice rings out from behind the grand wooden doors, your voice mixing into a beautiful tone of harshness and softness. He can hear how your chair scratches against the floor as you stand, guarding his office protectively.

"I know he's in there!"

"He is not," and you're puffing your chest out with a confidence that you're unsure of its origin. "You must come back another time."

Aizawa pants into the open air at your sweet little voice, trying to be commanding. He has to grip his base so he doesn't spill his load all over his black slacks. It grows quiet, and he knows the knock of your hands from memory.

"Come in."

You're hesitant, hands coming in front of you to fidget before you're forcing your hands by your sides. The pressure of Aizawa's presence has a hold over you that you can't shake. "She left. She said she'd be back tomorrow."

Lecherous eyes take in the loosening of his tie and how he relaxes instantly at the relief. He looks warm, if a bit debauched.

"I see," and he's staring at the ceiling before lazily trailing his eyes back down to your body. "Come here."

Soft feet pad even closer. You're not sure if you're even breathing.

"Thank you for listening. You are good at what you do.

"Thank you, sir."

He lets the stillness linger in the air, watching how you step even closer. You wanted a treat.

"Another thing. Where did you buy that skirt?"

"... At the department store."

His mouth flattens, and he hums, reaching into his wallet. " It's nice. Buy yourself something off the rack, not from the sale section."

Your face burns bright as he slides the cash over. This feels strangely good. You knew it was wrong, but you just couldn't help yourself. It was a substantial amount—too much for a boss to give to his secretary.

"Am I… allowed to take that?"

Aizawa smirks coolly, "I just gave you permission to."

The implication of his words leaves your legs crossing, much to your boss's amusement. He tells you to take the day off, and he's so soft this time. No harsh criticisms. All he wants to do is take care of you; the stack of money is comforting as a couple hundred sits heavy in your bag.

You buy a cute two-piece suit. It accentuates your curves nicely, and you can't help but wonder if Aizawa would feel the same. Adding a few accessories you don't think he'd mind, a gold choker glints at you, and you look around before shoving it to the bottom of your shopping bag.

He doesn't even comment on it. Of course, he doesn't. Your fingers click the keys with a bit more anger than normal. Who gives you money to buy an outfit and then doesn't even compliment you? Your boss, that's who. Fingers rip the written communication from the typewriter with a huff.

You're about to go to him, but he's coming to you first. Your breath stutters in your throat at how his eyes pierce you with every step. Aizawa stops and flicks the paper onto your desk with narrowed eyes, "can you tell me what this word says?"

"I-Indelible."

"And this one?"

He points to another word circled in red and your shy eyes are batting up at him, "rash…"

"So I didn't hire an illiterate typer, that's good. But then that means there must be a reasonable explanation for these glaring typos, hm?"

Aizawa's fist bangs on the table as you neglect to respond, "I–no, sir…"

He leans close till you can feel his breath on your lips. You're shaking and unsure if you want to burst into tears or kiss him on the mouth. And then he sees it, his eyes trailing down your body to see the familiar scratch of lines and ripped fabric on your calf. You'd hoped he hadn't noticed, but you can't help the twitch of your lips.

"Come to my office," Aizawa says shakily, voice intense and full of mirth.

You walk behind him to enter into his domain. Aizawa stares at you, breath labored as he swallows thickly. Neither of you are speaking, but it's clear how his presence dominates yours. It's effortless. It's easy for him.

"Put the paper on the table and your hands on either side."

Your hair sways as you put your hands on his grand office desk. The red marks stare back at you mockingly, your breath stuttering as you feel his presence behind you. He looms, and you can just barely feel how his hips align right behind yours. A deep, primal need wants to arch your back even more than it already is.

"Bend over more."

Was he serious? Your ass brushes against his crotch as you bend farther, with your pencil skirt rising higher. Your upper thigh is exposed to cool air, Aizawa's rough hands brushing against the soft skin. His thumb just barely brushes your panties, and you're biting back a whimper.

"Read it aloud."

Aizawa bites his lip as you do exactly what he says.

"Dear Mr. Toshinori," and you're cut off by a firm spank on your ass.

Your breath stops in your throat as you turn your head in disbelief. Aizawa says nothing, and does nothing, maintaining eye contact as he swats your plump butt again. It hurts and your eyes water. Something inside you tells you this is wrong, but it's overwhelmed by the wave of it feeling so right.

"Go on."

A sniffle escapes you, humiliation and pleasure mixing into a twisted thread of satisfaction, "the effort you've put into this case has been indelible–"

Another firm smack that leaves a gasping moan escaping you. You can hear his labored breaths mingle with your needy ones as he lays smack after smack against your aching bottom. Your whimpers come out more easily with each hit. Your eyes blur with tears that drip onto the crisp paper, blurring the letters you'd so carelessly put together. The red of Aizawa's pen seeps into the salty stain, and a cry escapes you.

"We don't want to be rash," another loud smack. "With all my love, Aizawa Shota…"

The two of you are panting, and Aizawa sighs as he presses the bulge in his slacks against the cleft of your sore bottom. He's so hard. You can't help how your hips grind against his, how the two of you play this forbidden song and dance of boundaries a second longer. He stills you with a fond voice.

"Very good," and you could cum with how he says your name. "I expect you to be better the next time around."

A strong hand smooths over the sore skin and fabric of your skirt. He takes care to readjust your clothes. His hands feel incredible with every soothing stroke. Your tears subside within no time, and you wish the moment would last forever.

He doesn't see how your eyes close in relief as a smile graces your lips, "I will, sir."

"Thank you."

You make no mistakes for the rest of the week. You might be the perfect secretary. Aizawa was beginning to reveal himself to you more and more; you were absolutely delighted. If he wanted to overwhelm you with himself, you weren't opposed to submitting to him entirely. You'd let him eat you if he wanted.

It's how your quaint, dull secretary job turns into a game of cat and mouse. Everything is predetermined by him. You crawl to his desk with the written communication tucked between your lips, sidling up next to him as he takes it with a "thank you."

Reveling in it is what keeps you going. It leaves you crawling, kneeling, and purring for "good girl," "thank you," "very nice," and "well done."

This time, you stand beside him like a shining knight while he reads over the newspaper. It's still early morning, only about an hour to your shift before he's straightening up and talking to you without looking at you.

"What do you eat for dinner, sweetheart?"

You can't help but smile every time you hear that tender nickname.

"U-Usually meat and potatoes and a vegetable."

"That's the daily menu?"

"Today I wanted to make mashed potatoes, peas, and meatloaf."

"Hmm," and then his steely eyes are turning and landing right on you.

It's as if a spotlight has shone down directly on you. You fidget on the spot immediately. Aizawa's lips quirked up as if he wanted to laugh, and you mirrored him back; you know he found your flightiness endearing. Cute, even. You'd heard him say so under his breath a few days back.

"I want you to have five peas. A scoop of mashed potatoes and no meatloaf."

You stay silent. He's not done. He smiles warmly, eyes scanning you appreciatively.

"And as much ice cream as you want."

"How did you know I like ice cream?"

He doesn't reply. He'd seen you out and about while he was waiting for his dry cleaning. You'd been happily chatting with friends, a giant cone of flavors on your right, while you gestured with the left. Aizawa hadn't wanted to interrupt you in your natural state. It was a shame, though, considering he couldn't shake your smile and your laugh from his head that entire day.

"I just know."

You make precisely five peas and a heaving bowl of mashed potatoes. The meal is done quickly, but you call him just before eating.

"A scoop of mash, five peas, and as much ice cream as I want."

Aizawa sits comfortably in his living room, wine glass in hand, "good girl."

It's a meal you savor. It's a wine he relishes. It's a simple delicacy, as if you share the meal together, knowing one is thinking about the other. Aizawa and you fall into this routine of codependency. You go where he goes. You eat from his hand and never bite. He offers you more and more. He lets you engorge yourself on him while he feasts himself upon you.

But, things grow different. He stops asking you to get on your knees, and you see him shutting the door behind you more and more. His face looked pained every time, as if he wasn't banishing you away to your secretarial desk. Why is he doing this? Why was he denying his sweetheart?

You listen to the audio of his lulling voice dictating you on what to type. You're not sure if you or the brat inside you insist on making typos, but you know it's the entirety of you that will be held responsible.

You smirked anyway as you delivered the paper to him with a flourish, "This one is finished."

He takes it silently and puts it in the envelope to be sent. You falter a bit and quizzically ask.

"Aren't you going to read it?"

"I'm really busy," he says your name so flatly you almost want to stomp your foot in protest.

Whatever. Quick feet turn, and you're heading off without a second thought. If he didn't want to read it, that was just fine! It wasn't as if you cared. You return to work, and your shift passes by slowly. Then, you hear the static and clearness of Aizawa's firm voice.

"Come to my office."

You're skipping with joy to the door, arms swinging at your sides before you compose yourself in front of the door. You open it, and he's immediately staring dead at you. His eyes are like a flame. Aizawa's voice shakes with restraint as he tells you to come close and bend over.

It's lewd how you drape yourself over his desk. Your hands are poised as you lay them flat against the desk, butt perked and wiggling ever so slightly. If you were a cat, your tail would swish, and maybe Aizawa would go easier on you.

But you're not a cat; Aizawa never goes easy on anyone. Not his clients, not the courtroom, and certainly not you. His rough nails scrape against the soft flesh of your bottom as he tugs your skirt up, and then your panties drop to the floor. You're bare and shaking in front of him, face dark and pressed into the wood you lay on. He gives no tells, your ears straining to hear something, anything.

Aizawa slowly unzips his slacks, and you're panting with neediness on your breath. You can feel how a strong hand easily shifts your hips to the side as if you weigh nothing; he's still silent as a hand grips the base of his cock, and he groans.

You wish so badly to turn and catch him in the act. He spits lewdly and tugs your skirt up higher till your ass is on full display. He grunts, and it's so slick listening to his palm hit his fat balls and work the tip over and over again. A whimper escapes you when he digs his palms into the fat of your ass and grips it for purchase. It feels so heady, and you're forced to listen as Aizawa fucks into his palm.

The wet noises echo, his hand speeding up as he groans your name. A confident thrum leaves you thrusting back, and the choked moan he lets out is downright delicious, "fuckk."

His breath becomes strangled as he works himself. Then, he's letting out a deep yelp, and you're coated in hot white strands of his cum. It soaks into your panties, and your hole clenches around nothing. He's still breathing shakily, his hand tracing the marks he left on you before pulling away entirely. You can smell his cologne when you turn knock-kneed before him.

"That'll be all," he mumbles with ragged pants.

You stare at yourself, awed, in the mirror. The streaks on your panties are visible as you slip a hand past your waistband and hold a hand to your mouth. You cum just like that, in Aizawa's company bathroom, with his cum on your ass.

He doesn't make an appearance for the rest of the shift. You want to knock and ask, "Are you okay?" But, you worry it'd just make things worse.

Meanwhile, Aizawa stares at his desk contemplatively. A letter sits mockingly as he stares at it. The white stain on his slacks mocks him. He keeps trying to rub it out, but it won't budge. This can't go on.

Dear Sweetheart,

This is disgusting. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this.

He crumples it and tosses it off somewhere, sinking into his office chair with an arm draped over his eyes. This was pathetic. It was unseemly. He had to intervene before he got out of control. Aizawa tries to ignore the deep pain within his chest that winces at every thought of separating himself from you.

That was what he told you the next day, "we can't be doing this every day. It's… wrong."

"Why not?"

You're tearful and shaking. Aizawa's heart shatters so suddenly he has to look off to the side, eyes tracing the whistling trees outside the window.

"Why. Not?"

"Because we can't," he hisses in regret at even letting this conversation come to fruition regardless.

Your hands smack against your thighs as you stand and come closer. You never used to go into his bubble, and now you had no problem merging the two of you together, "I love you."

It was the genuine, honest truth. You loved how he told you how many peas to eat when he'd stroke your hair when he first called you sweetheart. You were sure you had started loving him then, some time or another, between the blending of professional boundaries.

"Don't be immature–"

"I'm not leaving.

He gets close, eyes narrowed as you stay rooted on his Persian rug.

"You're fired."

"No, I'm not," your tears spill over your cheeks in fat rivulets. "Don't do this."

Aizawa scoffs, grabbing his coat and huffing, "I'm going for a walk. Don't be here when I get back."

You stay rooted. You don't move an inch, only wiping your face and continuing to stare out his office window. This was the most heartbreak you'd ever felt. Aizawa was the first real man you had met, and he was tearing himself away from you. This job had never been dull from the second you saw him.

He's been gone for so long. Your legs ache, and you wonder if he went home, if he decided to leave you there through the night on trembling feet and shaky breaths. No. He wasn't like that. You'd wait.

The walk did nothing to soothe him. All he could feel was a pull towards you, like an anchor desperate to return home. Each step was heavy, and he turned around halfway to practically run back to the office. Were you still there?

You're still standing with your arms at your sides. You're not crying anymore, your face hard and focused. You're pretty upon his Persian rug, and Aizawa feels downright giddy. The giddy feeling is overshadowed by the thrum of darkness at the reality of the situation. He felt awful, wanting, and overwhelmed with emotions. He had so many emotions he almost couldn't stand it. Almost.

Aizawa sits outside the office door, head in hand. A thread born from sickness and loneliness was watered and tended by you, and he was so afraid.

The two of you stay rooted.

Only when the sun shines before noon the next day does Aizawa open the door. You're turning your head instantly with watery eyes and a grumbling stomach. You knew it, he hadn't left. He'd have never left you alone at this rate. You were his, and he was yours.

His footsteps are heavy as he draws closer until he's right before you. You look at him so softly. Your eyes are like dams threatening to give away if he didn't accept this watering, this tending. You'd worked so hard.

You collapse into his arms the minute he holds you, and he goes down with you, both of you sinking onto the floor in a loving heap. He doesn't even let your head touch the ground, only looking at you with fondness.

Aizawa kisses you, and it's like a cool drink of water. You're satiated yet hungry for more. Hungry for him.

"I'm going to take you home," he whispers tenderly, accompanied by a hand smoothing down the side of your waist before hooking under your knees.

He bridal carries you past the threshold of his office and building and towards his car. It's an intimate carry; you hold onto him with a soft smile.

His steps are measured as he takes you up the stairs of his home. Your eyes greedily latch onto every detail you pass by: the pictures daintily hung on the wall, the way a cat peeks in from the kitchen, the way the whole home is ornate and decorated. It's lived in, and you bring yourself closer to burying into Aizawa's neck.

The minute your back hits the bed, you're engaged in a passionate lip-lock that won't quit. It's not the rough dominance of Aizawa trying to eat you whole. It was the experience of two lovers finally able to blend as one.

He's gentle as he lays you back against plush silken sheets, immediately crawling and molding his body to yours with a hefty groan. His body weight is addicting. Your thumbs press against the divots in his back to try and bring him impossibly closer.

"Been wanting to kiss you since I saw you, pretty girl."

"Me too," your tongue laves over his bottom lip. "I only wanted you."

"I know. I see you."

He breathes into your neck before diving in to lick and suck at the supple skin. You can't help the squirming and the hot whimpers that escape you, the rough patches on your neck growing more abundant with every kiss of his lips and bite of his teeth.

"I want you," you confide, hands loosening his hair from the tight bun into loose strands that surround you. "I need you, Aizawa."

"Call me Shota." a burning hand trails down your hip to between your legs.

You're already mewling, trying to shut your legs despite Shota insisting with a "be good" to keep them open. His hand catches your thigh, and you shrink at his look that pins you to the covers.

"Be still," he says, and a finger drags up your puffy lips over your underwear.

The fabric catches on your clit, and you gasp; your hips tilting back and forth for moremoremore–

Shota tugs your panties to the side and spreads you open, his eyes greedy as they rake over every inch of your dripping cunny. You know you're making a mess all over his hand as you writhe and leak.

"Shota, ohfuckk. Don't stare," you barely manage to get out when his rough thumb circles your needy clit.

"I'll stare as much as I feel like, sweetheart. You're dripping for me, soaking my hand. 'S so cute."

You can't even find it in yourself to plead for him to stop. He sinks two fingers in you like it's nothing, an amused chuckle reverberating through his chest at the sight, "You play with your pussy a lot? She swallowed my fingers up like it was nothing. Is it gonna be the same when I stuff you full?"

"I'll take it, I-I can take your cock."

"Good girl. Saying exactly what I want to hear," and he's kissing you.

His hand leaves you, much to your chagrin, and you're left spread open wide in front of him as he rapidly undresses. His bulge is big, and you're almost a bit intimidated when his boxers reveal the shape of his thick cock leaking pre-cum. You wet your lips, and your knees go to touch before he pulls them open wider and settles on his haunches.

"Getting shy now?"

"No…"

"Then open your legs."

It's not a question but a command. You do as he says.

His underwear is pushed down to free his dick, the thick length bobbing and brushing against his happy trail. It's so lewd, and he looks so manly. His muscles are rippling, and he's so hard between your legs. Your hole clenches around nothing, and Shota runs the angry red tip through your folds.

"Ah! Don't tease me," you murmur, feet flexing with need.

His fat tip just barely presses against your hole, just barely pushing past your clenching pussy with a lazy grin, "I won't. Just lay back, honey."

Shota's voice is syrupy and smooth. His hands push your thighs farther than you thought they'd go as he sinks inch by inch into you.

"Oh, oh, Shota–you're so big."

"Poor pussy's squeezing me so tight," he grunts lowly. "You feel so good, sweetheart."

He plants a soft kiss against your ankle before shifting and bullying three inches of himself inside you. You cry out, eyes rolling back as he shallowly thrusts and works you open, breath heavy on his lips as he fucks his cock into you.

Your pussy's so sloppy, leaking and creaming around him before he's even balls deep inside you. Shota mounts you, and you're scrunched under him with a whimpering wail, "There we go. Nice and full, huh?"

"Y-Yeah! Ohgod, I-I can't–"

"Oh, fuuuuck."

He moves slowly and thrusts so deep you feel him in your stomach. It's sinful, the way his hips start to rock into yours, tip rubbing against your womb as you moan and moan.

"God, 'm so deep inside you. Fucking claiming this pussy, right? Just giving my girl what she needs, a nice, good pounding."

Shota's balls smack against your ass as he speeds up, sticky clit mashing against the coarse hair at his base as he rams himself into you again and again. You feel delirious as you get fucked further into the mattress. The two of you are one, creaming around his base as your nails scratch lines across his back.

"Rub your clit, baby. Make yourself feel good."

“‘M gonna cum, Shotaaa!”

"Hold it," he hisses, hips still pistoning in and out of you as he thrusts particularly hard. "Want you to rub yourself, sweetheart. You can do that for me, yeah?"

You're near tears as your hand shakily flits over your sore pussy, howling from pleasure as you circle it once, twice–" I-I can't, please, lemme cum!"

"Hmm," and you can feel how he throbs inside you.

Your walls suck him in impossibly deeper, and you can see the sweat dripping down his forehead as he heaves a breath. You squeeze again, and he glares at you darkly, eyes narrowed and stormy as he settles his hips on top of yours, heavy balls churning with the need to cum.

"Go ahead, since you wanna cum so bad."

"Sh-Shota!"

You're fucking squirting. Your juices make more of a mess, and it does it for him as he slams into you for a few more thrusts before hunkering down and sliding right against your womb. A few tears escape you as rope after rope of cum fills you to the brim, your eyes rolling back as he milks himself inside your sweet cunt.

"God, fuck," he shudders, hips twitching as he finishes breeding you.

Shota's eyes are closed as he holds you both in that position. If you weren't on birth control, you'd be in trouble as globs of cum spill out when he adjusts his grip on you. He pulls out slowly, watching the white fill and drip down your ass lewdly. He looks magical the way he bites his lip and spreads your open, hole clenching and letting out more of his release.

"You're so pretty."

Both of you are spent and exhausted. You can't find it in yourself to reply. Aizawa's muscles bulge when he pulls you closer into his body, a shiver coursing through you at a lazy finger trailing over your spine. Both of you are quiet for a while, the intense passion taking a load on you both.

You nearly fall asleep while he strokes you.

"Where are you originally from?"

It makes you pause before you answer your hometown, eyes pulling up to meet his soft ones.

"... Where did you go to school?"

"UA High School. Then, I went overseas for my law degree."

"Oh. I always wondered where you went."

"I always wondered where you were from," he whispers, noses your face, and plants a sweet kiss on your lips.

The two of you swap stories and questions just like that for hours. It means everything to you, and Shota wishes you could've done this sooner. Wishes he could've known this woman before.

"Do I still get to keep my job?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

-

You walk, arms spread out wide and attached to the spreader bar. You adorn yourself with a clean white blouse and a navy blue skirt—prim and proper. It's easy now, as you squat to grab a paper with your left hand and turn to your right to staple it.

It's easy, grabbing things with your teeth as you prance around, spread open as if on a cross for him. Your boss wanted you that way; he wanted you to be spread open and bare for him, fresh enough to eat.

You carry the tray with coffee in your right hand and the stack of papers in your left hand. As you approach the ajar office door, you can hear his voice, "Come in, and get on your knees."

The oak office door is kicked closed behind you without another word.

[walks-the-ages]

Every Autistic+ADHD person should have a Public Domain character as their special interest. It is so great.

You can go hog wild collecting books, movies, adaptions, and sharing all of your Public Domain finds freely.

You can write your own fanfiction and *its not even fanfiction its just its own canon.*

You can make your own custom covers and print your own custom versions of the books.

You can freely rewrite the books and publish them if you want.

You can change a character's pronouns and make them queer as much as you want.

You can make as much art and AUs as you want and you could literally make them their own published series if you wanted.

You can know the joy of receiving a 96 year old book in the mail in a language you can't even read yet but know that you can scan it and upload it to the Internet Archive because it is Public Domain and being able to see the original text is going to make someone's entire week.

You can start learning a new language just to be able to read the original works from a hundred years ago in their native tongue.

You can feel the Hatred of Disney for the Mickey Mouse Protection Act meaning the USA is one of the only countries in the world that doesn't have the entire series of books that are your special interest in the Public Domain which they should have been over a decade ago , but now at least you have something to look forward to on January 1st for the next decade, give or take a few gaps years of nothing entering the Public Domain!

This is about Arsene Lupin by Maurice Leblanc, first published in 1905 through to 1941, but I would *love* to hear about everyone's Public Domain blorbos in the notes lol.

[humalifehealthcare]

From Claims to Care

How RCM Efficiency Improves Patient Outcomes

Introduction In the healthcare world, clinical excellence is only half the equation. The other half—financial operations—often goes unnoticed until problems arise. Delayed reimbursements, mounting denials, and inconsistent cash flow can compromise both the quality of care and the sustainability of healthcare practices.

That’s why forward-thinking providers are turning to Humalife Healthcare, a trusted Revenue Cycle Management (RCM) partner, to bring efficiency, clarity, and control to their financial workflows—ultimately empowering better patient care.

RCM: More Than Just Billing Revenue Cycle Management isn’t just about billing and collections—it's the backbone of your entire healthcare operation. An efficient RCM system ensures:

Faster reimbursements

Lower denial rates

Improved operational planning

Better patient experience

When your revenue cycle is healthy, your organization can focus on what matters most: healing people.

The Hidden Link Between RCM and Patient Outcomes Here’s how optimized RCM directly improves patient care:

Reduced Administrative Delays Streamlined insurance verification and pre-authorization mean patients get timely access to care—without paperwork delays.

Financial Transparency Clear billing, upfront cost estimates, and fewer surprises at the front desk enhance patient trust and satisfaction.

More Time for Clinical Focus When providers are freed from financial bottlenecks, they can focus entirely on delivering quality care.

Reinvestment in Better Services Faster payments and fewer write-offs mean more funds can be reinvested into clinical infrastructure, staff training, and technology.

How Humalife Healthcare Delivers Impact At Humalife Healthcare, we integrate people, process, and technology to deliver RCM that performs. Here’s how we do it:

End-to-End Support From eligibility checks to denial appeals, we manage the entire revenue cycle with precision.

Domain Expertise Our team is trained in US and UK healthcare systems, coding standards, and payer rules.

Customized Solutions We align our processes with your workflows—no one-size-fits-all approach.

Transparency and Reporting With real-time dashboards and analytics, you stay in control and informed.

Client Win in Focus Case Study: Mid-sized Hospital in the UK Challenge: 28% of claims were being delayed due to improper coding and eligibility issues. Solution: Humalife implemented coding audits and pre-verification workflows. Result: Denials reduced by 41%, and claim cycle time improved by 35%. The finance team reported improved forecasting, and patients received faster care with less paperwork.

Conclusion In today’s healthcare economy, RCM isn’t just a back-office function—it’s a patient care enabler. At Humalife Healthcare, we help providers transform financial processes into strategic assets that power care delivery and drive sustainable growth.

Ready to Transform Your Revenue Cycle? Get in touch with Humalife Healthcare to learn how efficient RCM can enhance your care, reputation, and revenue

[liquidcrystalsky]

I just pulled this 2009 hp out of the dumpster what do i do with it. It has ubuntu.

if it's that old, probably wipe and reinstall. If you're doing ubuntu again first uninstall snap but there's a lot of neat self-hosting stuff you can do with an old PC.

I have a little RasPi in my basement which runs an RSS Feed aggregator(FreshRSS), some calendars(Radicale) and notes(Joplin) so they're synced between all my devices.

If the computer has the storage and a little bit of power for processing things you could also run something to sync all your photos (Immich) and files (Nextcloud, which also does images but i like Immich better for it) between ur devices so you can avoid having to use paid services which may or may not be selling your data or whatever.

You can have it run a self hosted VPN such as WireGuard which you can port forward so you can use it from anywhere, or you can use a service like Tailscale which doesn't require port forwarding, but it's not something you host yourself, they have their own servers.

You can also put all the services behind a reverse proxy (nginx Proxy Manager, NOT nginx, i mean it's good but it's much harder) and be able to access it through a proper domain with SSL(a vpn will already do this though) instead of whatever 192.168.whatever, again, only accessible by people On That VPN.

All things are available (and usually encouraged) to run through docker, and they often even have their own compose files so it's not too much setup. (it's maintenence to update things though)

Also have fun and play tuoys. Old computers run modern versions of linux much better than windows. just open it up see what u can do with it, get used to it, try to customize the desktop to how you like it, or try another one (Ubuntu comes with GNOME. please try another one). See what works and what doesn't (hardware will likely be the issue if something doesn't work though, not linux itself). Something like Plasma or Cinnamon works just like a normal windows computer but there's still a bit of that "learning how to use a computer" that you don't really get after using the same version of windows for 10 years.

[thedandyrobot]

Prince Marine: The Dandy Robot has updated!

So, the big news is that my webcomic finally has its own, personal website! With a custom domain name with all the hookers and blackjacks you could ever want!

It's here. Go check it out! My birthday is on the 15th, so please consider making this old birthday gal's day and checking it out.

This is going to be THE default, main site for the webcomic going forward. Comicfury will still serve as a back-up and this tumblr will continue to promote and update new pages.

I'm just so damn happy to finally have a personal website for this comic. It's been a dream!

🍂 CHAPTER SEVEN START: https://dandyrobotcomic.com/index.html?pg=301#showComic ⭐READ HERE (for latest page): https://dandyrobotcomic.com/ 🤖BEGINNERS, START HERE: https://dandyrobotcomic.com/index.html?pg=1#showComic

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~*SUPPORT THE ARTIST*~

🎨ITCH.IO ☕KO-FI 🖌️ART COMMISSIONS 🦋BLUESKY

[hosenseo1]

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[delcrepie]

‼️‼️ALL ARTISTS OUT THERE WHO DOES FREELANCE OR COMMISSIONS BE AWARE TO THIS SCAMMER OR PERSON!!

(scroll down to see screenshots I got and warnings and Infos)!

🚨 WARNING: PayPal Scam Alert 🚨 They’ll pretend to praise you and admire your artwork!

I want to warn everyone about a dangerous PayPal scam that I recently encountered. Please read carefully to avoid falling victim to this scam.

Here’s what happened: A person claimed to have sent me money and “upgraded" my PayPal account to a Business account without my consent. After checking my PayPal account directly, there was no such upgrade, and it was clear that the email I received was NOT legitimate.

But it didn't stop there. The scammer went as far as to say I would be arrested if I didn’t refund a payment they claimed to have sent me. This is a classic scam tactic used to create panic and pressure you into acting impulsively.

🔴 Red Flags to Watch Out For:

Suspicious Email Address: The email came from "paypal.services.couk", which is NOT an official PayPal domain. PayPal’s legitimate emails come from @paypal.com.

Unsolicited Account Upgrades: No one, not even PayPal, can upgrade your account without your consent. Only you can make such changes in your account settings.

Threat of Arrest: The scammer threatened that I would be arrested if I didn't issue a refund. This is not true! PayPal cannot and will not threaten you with legal action over a transaction unless you’re involved in illegal activity (which I was not). It's a manipulation tactic to scare you into sending money.

Phishing Attempt: The email seemed designed to trick me into clicking on malicious links or giving up personal information.

⚠️ What To Do If You Get a Similar Email:

Do NOT click any links or download any attachments.

Log in directly to PayPal via the official website (www.paypal.com) to check your account activity. Do not trust links in suspicious emails.

Report the Scam: Forward the suspicious email to PayPal’s fraud department at spoof@paypal.com and mark it as spam.

Contact PayPal Support: If you’re unsure about any email or threat, reach out to PayPal directly through their official customer service channels.

🚫 Remember: Scammers may use threats of arrest or other extreme tactics to manipulate you. Stay calm, protect your personal information, and do not respond to threats.

Let’s stay vigilant and help protect each other from these scams! 💡

[gmc10gmc]

Sindy is an experienced titfighter. She loves to travel all around the world and meet new busty rivals to domainate with her big tits. When visiting Japan she wasn’t really waiting for anything special. After a long flight she decided to have something to eat in a local sushi restaurant.

It was a small place held by a family which welcomed her warmly in despite the fact that they were just about closing. The owner mother showed Sindy a table from the back of the restaurant in a small cabin. Few seconds later the daughter brought the menu to Sindy.

Immediately when their eyes met each others they recognized a familiar feeling: another busty bitch, possibly a rival. Sindy made the order quickly and tugged her green dress downwards to show some delicious cleavage while handing the menu back to the waitress. The waitress smiled and bend forward giving a great view of her own juicy cleavage to Sindy. The challenge was issues and accepted.

The challenges kept coming and going while the late dinner went on. Sindy wasn’t waiting for much but now she was very excited about this unwaites new rivalry. The young waitress wasn’t going to back off.

Just before the dessert the waitress came inside the cabin, locked it and took her big tits out while saying: ”I think we both know what you want to dessert. You’re gonna taste these after I have flattened your weak sacks.”

Sindy smiled and bared her own set: ”You guessed right. But it will be you who’ll do the eating this time. Bring it on!”

The owner mother smiled at the kitchen as she heard very familiar grunts and slaps behind the wall. This wasn’t the first time her spicy daughter decided to titfight against a busty customer. That’s why she had installed a camera to the cabin so she could watch the show.

Surprsingly soon she saw her daughter forcing the busty customer on her back and flattened under her daughter’s strong boobs. The mother was slightly disappointed how quickly the blonde gave up. She was already hoping for a chance to make a challenge by her own if the blonde came on top.

Sindy felt frustrated. She knew she would do better but the jet lag had hit her harder than she thought. When pleasing the winner’s victorious set she decided to come again to this place and challenge the waitress to an all out sexfight at her hotel. She won’t lose again!

[tragedynoir]

— completed commission: custom single muse doc!

"An absolutely wonderfully made doc that went far and beyond my expectations!! As someone who’s never done any kind of document commission before, i found the process to be incredibly smooth. I’m looking forward to using this for all my western oc needs!"

a custom western cowboy doc that leans into the warm hues of the american southwest landscape. pulling from both CC0 pictures and public domain illustrations, this collage-like template was such a blast to make! the client wanted to be able to write a long backstory, so the last section is extremely flexible and can accommodate any length of writing.

if you remember the milestone giveaway I hosted earlier, this is the result of it! I'm so grateful to her for allowing me a lot of creative liberty with the document, and for such a fun theme that's outside of my comfort zone.

if you would like a custom template tailored to your aesthetic and needs, without the hassle of trying to edit an existing template, do consider commissioning me! I also offer the more affordable option to modify & upgrade any of my templates to better suit your needs.

[the-awakened-insomnis]

The Royal Zora Family That could fit in the picture

Wanted to do proper(?) height between them all. Mipha is 8ft, Layria is 6ft, and Link is a crippling 5'4ft, truly a short king.

Mipha & Link have had an unspoken intense relationship. But speaking it out would make it real, it was a risk. Both are very private people; their actions spoke in a way only they could understand. Secrets that only the wild could bear witness, songs only they could sing.

The approaching Calamity hung over Hyrule and its Champions like a heavy sick veil. The fear of losing everything made every waking day feel a march to their deaths.

Mipha had rushed to Links aid, together they fought in sync. Complimenting each other with grace and courage, it's the middle of the night by the time Mipha, Link and the wounded soldiers return to Zoras Domain. She asks him to come with her, wishing to speak with him, she's hiding something from him and Link is left confused.

They reach the biggest waterfall, it's nightfall and Farores winds gently pass by. The sky is glittered with stars and a full moon, this is perfect there is no way Mipha could mess this up. She steals herself, takes a breath, and utters a silent prayer for a piece of courage.

"Link, we've...we've known each other for the better part of lives. And every day I wake, I thank the spirits for all the time I spend with."

"While I was inside Vah Ruta, I had truly believed I would not survive." She pauses, taking a shaky breath before she continues. "But after the Calamity, I realized that I could not die with the weight that sits in my heart, my heart that you, and you alone hold Link."

She walks to him, revealing what she had been hiding from him. Her head is down looking at the armor she crafted. The hylian gasps, his eyes widening, ears perking upward, he knows what this is. His childhood was spent in Lanayru among the Zora, their customs are his own, but the shock still hits like an arrow.

"You know what this is, what I intend with this, but before you answer-"

"Yes."

There's a pause, Mipha lifts her head up to see an expression she'd never thought would be on Links' face. She lacks visible ears, but she knows what she heard. Yet she still can't believe it.

"...What?"

"I do." he says this with every ounce of confidence in his body. His words leaving no room for argument.

He walks forward, closing the small gap between them and gently cups her face, her scales smooth and beautiful under moons light. He strokes he thumbs across her cheeks. He smiles at her with such softness that she's only seen in their most passionate moments hidden away from the world.

"Do you think I would say no?" he asks with a hint of humor.

Miphas' cheeks burn and she knows Link can see and feel it. She huffs out her gills in disbelief.

"Will you at least grant me the right to ask you Link?" Golden meets bright blue, gods she could swim in his eyes for the rest of her days.

"Only if I get to brag that you asked me, especially to Revali." his smile grows wide at the idea of it all, he briefly lets his imagination run wild.

Mipha puffs out her cheeks, then deflates. She takes a knee and presents the armor as intended, as her mother did for her father.

"Link La-ref Ragnar, first of your name and first born of your family. My friend, my fellow Champion, my dearest and only love, will you grant me the honor of your hand, your heart, your soul, your spirit, and the right to call mine in the eyes of our people, our gods, in this life and in death? Where the only thing who could take you from me is your own two feet."

Link smiles, bright and contagious with tears ready to fall. He bends to Miphas' level, placing his hands atop the armor she made for him.

"Mipha De Bon, first of your name, first-born of your family and heiress to Lanayrus' throne and the Zora crown. I grant onto you, the right to call me yours in the eyes of our people and our gods in this life and in death. So long as you grant me the right to do the same, where the only being who could take you from me is your own two feet."

The tears finally fall and they embrace. Mipha, now overflooded with joy, picks Link up and spins him around, their joy and laughter aloud for all to hear. She stops eventually, the two look at each other, by the years end they will Husband and Wife. By the years end they will truly be each others' in the eyes of those who matter to them.

Link is eager to try on the armor and Mipha helps him into it. By the golden three he looks perfect in it, the blue she picked compliments his natural colors. Amidst her own thoughts, she pulled out of them by an assault of kisses by Link, he covers every surface of her face.

He stops only to breathe, his arms hooked around her neck whilst hers find their place around his waist. She pulls him close, foreheads touching, slowly leading him into a silent sway as she hums, he joins her.

They will share the joy at a later date, but for now, it is theirs to savor. This is their song to sing, with the symphony of the wilds dancing around them.

...

This is the story they tell their daughter the most. The story that ends with their song that carries her to sleep in her pool, only now it is joined by their creation.

Their Rantipole Princess, their little Layria. She will grow as all children do. But she will always be their song no matter how old she grows. The winds will carry it no matter how far she goes...

[chameleoncharm]

Aug 2024 News!

Hello hello! Meant to get this up a bit sooner, but had some family things come up and I've been down with Covid the last bit of time. If you're a paid member, this will sound like a repeat of things I said a little earlier this month, but please bear with me, as I try and get everyone caught up with my plans. First off, major apologies again for falling off the face of the Earth the last... bit of time. Life has been hectic, but in between the crazy, I've managed to catch a few moments to come up with game plans for the comic. I won't go over everything right now, but just cover the up and coming things on the docket. The biggest thing to note coming up in the next month though is the relaunch of the comic.

I've been putting together a new home for Chameleon Charm over on ComicFury. You can actually view it here: https://chameleoncharm.thecomicseries.com/

There's no pages up yet and the extra pages - like the Cast and Fan Art pages and the like - aren't fully functional yet. I'm not actually very good at coding, or rather no good at all, cause I know nothing about code, so it's been a struggle getting the page to look the way I want it. It looks pretty good now though, so hopefully nothing breaks going forward, hahah. If it does, it because of my spaghetti coding and I apologize. Anyway, the plan is that starting Sept 18 - the comic's 12th year anniversary - I will be re-releasing the comic over on the new ComicFury page. I hope to get my custom domain to point to the ComicFury soon, though the Tumblr will remain up, for archival reasons/purposes. What I mean by a re-release is that I will be trickling out all the past pages over the next bit of time; all five chapters. There will be minor differences, as I'm doing some editing on the pages to readability and consistency, will some minor art edits.

The release schedule will be Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday and once I get everything posted, will revert to the Tuesday and Friday release schedule I had back in the old days when I was hosted on Cup of Comics.

With what I have in terms of page count, for Chapters 1-5, it should neatly gets us to September of 2025, where then, I will finally start getting into Chapter 6, for real. I know that's still a long time, but this way, I have a built in buffer and time frame in which to work. Since I've gone on hiatus because of life and writer's block, I had not solid time frame in which to get back on the horse, so I'm setting one with the relaunch. So, short form, the plan is this: - Starting Sept 18, 2024, I will release Chapters 1-5 on the new ComicFury webpage, with a "new" page released on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays - By Sept 18, 2025, I should have things all set to roll smoothly into the long awaited Chapter 6

I've alluded to this before, but really, the time to think things through as really actually helped when it's come to story developments. Handing things on a page-by-page basis really wasn't a good idea, but hey, when I started the comic, I was young, dumb, and stupid and didn't know better. I'm older now so like to think I've learned some kind of lesson, lol. Anyway, the rest of the month is dedicated to the aforementioned edits so I can get pages queued up. I hope you'll enjoy revisiting the series through this relaunch and maybe have fun playing a game of Find the Difference on what I change. Again, they won't be big changes, but you know; for those people who like to keep track of such things (one reason why the Tumblr will remain). All I ask (aside from beseeching more of your continued patience and support, which I am eternally grateful for) is for you guys to help spread the word of the comic's release. I'll be putting up posts on the social media pages whenever a page goes live on the ComicFury (see here for all the official Chameleon Charm social media pages) and if you could like and share them around to get the comic in front of fresh, new eyes, that would be extremely helpful. But that's all for me for right now! I'll check in with everyone next month when the relaunch finally happens and to celebrate the 12th Year Anniversary. I'm sorry again for the absence, but I hope the stuff I have planned for the future will be worth it. I've been doing a lot in terms of world building and story development and I can't wait to share it all with you. Thank you again for your continued patience and support. For advanced news and behind the scenes, consider joining the Patreon! Take care now! - Fil