#i was forced to be on salary when i was the assistant manager

[abyssinalphantom]

I apparently can't work 4 ten hour shifts instead of 5 eight hours for the next couple weeks for my mental health according to my boss. If I wanted to do that I would have to strip my title of supervisor and get a pay cut.

Like are you fucking serious?? I'm doing the same work, working 40 hours still. Still opening and closing the building like in supposed to. And initially my boss said okay then back tracked on it.

And like I could see these bullshit rules if I were to do it permanently. But I just wanted it for middle of December. Was fully willing to work the full week of Christmas.

[obigem]

It was Meatloaf night at the Reynolds household.

There was exactly one night a week where the entire family was home for dinner, so they made sure to always make the most of it and eat together as a family. Though they were family they weren't exactly typical.

The head of their household was Annalise. Her husband called her Anna. Jai and the rest of her children called her Mom. And DeShawn called her Grandma. But it didn't matter what each of them called her, she loved them all and she worked hard to ensure she was there for them all.

To her left was her loving husband, Kade. They were an odd pair, Kade being 15 years' her junior, but after Anna lost her first husband due to stroke, she found Kade. He made her want to not just laugh again, but love again. He was a great emotional support, but financially...

Luckily the family had Adrianna, Anna's oldest. Financially she picked up a lot of Kade's slack. She waited tables at the Diner Palace. When she wasn't doing that she taught Yoga at the gym right next door to it. She'd work more if she could hack it so her mother wouldn't have to.

Truth was the family was barely scraping by. Ri used to tell Jai when her father was alive it wasn't like that. He had a high paying factory job, they lived comfortably on his salary alone. But after his passing, their mother with her limited education, had to try at a living.

It was tight enough when it was just his mother having to care for herself, Ri, and his older brother Korey. But then Anna fell pregnant with him then Ri slipped up and became with child not long after. At the time, his mother said they almost lost the house.

It was then Korey became a truck driver to earn more money for the household. It saved them from homelessness, but the house became so tight forcing Korey to move out, prompting Kade to move in and make things official. He wanted to be a provider, but it had yet to pan out.

"Jairo?" His mother broke his thoughts. "What's wrong, baby? You look like you're drowning in an ocean of your own worries."

"Oh, um, no, it's nothing. I was just wondering, how did that talk with your boss go?"

Anna worked part-time as a cleaning lady at the lounge.

Her work anniversary was coming up in a few months, and she'd mentioned an assistant manager position had opened up for the bar area. It was a full time position with higher pay and benefits.

"Oh that. Yeah, we talked at length about that opportunity that opened up."

"And?"

"Well, Mr. Brower thinks I'm doing a really great job. He loves my work ethic and my positive attitude."

"There's a but isn't there?" Jai's heart sunk

"It's just, I don't have managerial experience. He says maybe in a year or two after I've become more familiar with the place—"

"So, it's a no, huh?" Jai sighed.

"It's a no just for right now, but I just know it'll turn around. Maybe I can go back to school and get a business certificate or something. I couldn't make uni courses work before, but maybe now, right?"

"Yeah, Mom, sure."

[iamconfusedallthetime]

2023 Last day of June.

I went to watch Indiana Jones with my dad. Had a great time and the movie was also great. We've made plans to have dinner next Wednesday and to go swimming with my kids and my younger brother's.

Alot has happed in the last few months. The job my husband, sister and I work at, have been doing some real shitty stuff lately. First it was that they gave my husband a General Manager job but didn't transfer his job tite. They kept saying it'll change next week every week. Three months later they brought some woman from a different store and then told everyone that she's actually the manager. That was 3 weeks ago.

Then, i was still trying to transfer to husband's store anyway but the new GM won't say yes to it because she's "over budget " on people's hours. There was 2 people who quit on the spot but she still said no. Made my husband take over more hours and she didn't do a whole lot and left him by himself alot. Denied my transfer and then a week later rehired the 2 people who quit.

At my store, we have crappy employees. Two people who bearly work, one who keeps getting arrested and doesn't show up and then one who keeps calling the Upper management people to say that my sister isn't doing her job. She's pretty much the only one who does her job though. She subs in for every one who calls in. She goes to the store late at night if the alarms go off. She does hitches, csr work and janitor stuff.

She got her back hurt and with a Doctors note that says she has to be on rest for 3 days. She can't lift anything more than 5 pounds.

The place we work for forced her to come in to a meeting between them and her assistant manager. Then made her help a few customers before she left. That was last week. She now has to see a chiropractor to help ease some of her back pain.

But none of that matters to our job. The assistant manager and a shitty employee called up our higher up manager and told them that she hasn't been at work much. Which was just some of last week, WITH a doctor's note. Those ass holes didn't care. They told her she now has to work 50 hours and be paid for 40 because she's salary. There has to be something illegal that their doing here.

I love my job and the flex hours but i don't like the other employees. I don't know how to jump ship or when to do so yet.

When i do finally quit though, I'm ganna be leaving the company with a piece on my mind.

[grantgoddard]

Born to be hired : 2006 : the new boy, Enders Analysis

“How is it that jobs just seem to fall into the laps of posh people?” my daughter asked the other day.

A rhetorical question? A truism? Both? Those of us who work in industries populated largely by posh people whom we do not resemble may have observed two phenomena. Posh people are often appointed to posts for which they appear to have no relevant experience; and posh people are regularly promoted effortlessly without apparent need to demonstrate above-average talent or previous successes. Obviously not ALL posh people, but enough for such occurrences to be more than random chance.

Recently, I switched on BBC Radio Four mid-programme and heard a posh woman explaining her lengthy career. “I could have been anything,” she said confidently.

That single phrase encapsulates the social divisions so evident in Britain. If you are posh and your parents invest a small fortune in your private school education, it is drilled into you from an early age that you CAN and WILL do and be ‘anything’ in life. Meanwhile, the rest of us have to endure soul-destroying verdicts from state schools, careers services, Jobcentres and potential employers telling us of things we are not good enough to do and be in our apparently second-class lives. ‘Upstairs Downstairs’ proves not so entertaining a system when you have to make do in life with the scraps of opportunity that institutions occasionally chuck your way.

It used to be that posh offspring would join their families’ businesses or spontaneously be appointed ‘captains of industry’, as if managing a British industrial conglomerate was no different than taking daddy’s yacht out for a jaunt on a weekend. However, Britain’s post-war, post-colonial de-industrialisation (hastened during the Thatcher years) considerably narrowed such straight-ahead career opportunities. For a while, only politics, government, medicine, law and accountancy were considered suitable professions for posh people, whereas now those ambitions have had to be diversified into occupations such as … the media.

In 1973, Jenny Abramsky had joined the BBC as a lowly programme operations assistant, following an education at a London comprehensive (state) school and the University of East Anglia. After 26 years progressing through the ranks, she was finally appointed director of BBC radio. Following her retirement in 2008 from managing the largest radio operation in the world, it would be difficult to imagine a job description for her successor that would not have demanded similarly extensive experience in radio broadcasting. It is a sign of how times have changed that the BBC’s choice for the job was Tim Davie who had never worked in radio, but had attended private school, Cambridge University and was deputy chairman of Hammersmith & Fulham Conservative Association. It was transparent even then that the radio job was merely a stepping stone for Davie’s ambitions … and so it came to pass.

Occasionally a glitch in The Matrix does occur, maybe once in a lifetime, when mysterious forces within the universe collide to produce a job opportunity that would not normally appear on the precarious, non-linear career timelines endured by the non-posh. In 2006, I was unexpectedly offered an unadvertised post as a ‘media analyst’, a job title I had to search for on the internet to understand what it entailed. As the salary offered me was greater than any previously earned in Britain, it proved hard to resist.

On my first day of work at Enders Analysis, I was invited by my new colleagues to join them for lunch in a local ‘greasy spoon’. I had already spotted some clues: the office was located in Mayfair, a London district too expensive to even window shop; and the water cooler chatter was about made-to-measure suits by a tailor in Hong Kong.

“What school did you go to?” one of my new colleagues asked.

Decades had passed since I had last been asked about the school I had attended. I was now 48 years old, but I did not want to appear reticent to my peers on the first day.

“Strode’s College,” I replied.

My colleagues looked at each other as if I had mentioned a rarely-visited, faraway Pacific Island populated by savages.

“What sort of school is that?” one of them eventually followed up.

“It’s a sixth form college,” I replied.

This response evidently did not satisfy them. There was a more critical question they were burning to ask, a question that normally was not required of a new recruit. One of them dared to raise it with me.

“Is that a public school?”

In the 1984-ish world of British language, the phrase ‘public school’ means a private school where parents have to pay for their children’s education. What Americans call a ‘public school’ is known in Britain as a ‘state school’ because it is funded by the state. Although every child in Britain is entitled to a free education, a tiny proportion of parents choose a private schooling that they confidently expect will propel their offspring into an elitist trajectory.

It might have been my first day communing with my new ‘colleagues’, but my patience was already starting to be tested. I decided to respond obliquely.

“It used to be a grammar school,” I replied.

“So had it been a private school then?” one of them asked.

This question itself betrayed a flawed understanding of Britain’s school system viewed from the perspective of someone who graduated from private education. Grammar schools can only be state schools by definition. It was up to me to explain such fundamentals in the most black and white terms.

“No, it was a state school as a grammar school, and then it was a state school as a sixth form college,” I replied.

The fact that this humiliating Q&A was the first conversation with my new work colleagues turned out to be indicative of how my future in this job was going to proceed. I was not embarrassed about my education, a state-funded experience I shared with 94% of Brits. What I found difficult to process was my colleagues’ apparent belief that, thirty years after my departure, the status of my school continued to merit far more concern than anything I had done since.

Once the horrifying truth had been extracted from me that I was not ‘one of them’, their lunch chatter switched to other topics. Although I was employed as a media analyst, there were no follow-up questions about my relevant experience for the job, about employers I had worked for previously or about any successes I had achieved. It seemed as if my long career in radio counted for absolutely nothing with them. Of more importance was the type of school I had attended, a fact that certain colleagues were quick to remind me of later in this job.

Despite this rather rude introduction, I continued to join my colleagues for lunch in the same diner on following days in order not to appear unsociable. The cooked food was consistently terrible and caused me diarrhoea. Why did they go there? It soon became apparent from their chatter that one of them, my line manager, lusted after an East European waitress employed there who was probably a third of his age. Instead of castigating him as a ‘dirty old man’, his colleagues appeared to enjoy indulging his fantasies and encouraging his unwanted attentions by spending most lunchtimes being served food by this poor servant girl. I soon chose to duck out of their pantomime and went my own way to Eat or Pret A Manger for a cheaper, more wholesome takeaway sandwich.

During my first week, I had to ask my line manager’s advice about a paragraph I had written for a report. A quick visit to his adjacent private office should have lasted no more than a few minutes. Not so. I exited more than half-an-hour later, reeling from his account of sexual abuse suffered at private boarding school. One moment we had been talking about my punctuation, the next he had drifted into dark memories of bullying from many decades ago. I had not asked a question that might have prompted him to regale me with these horrific stories. Why had he considered it appropriate to burden the ‘new boy’ with such accounts?

Some months later, the whole team was required to attend a seasonal lunch at a basement restaurant in Mayfair. I hated these affairs as my colleagues would get drunk and talk even more loudly, but it was impossible to avoid such ‘team’ occasions. Sat facing each other along a long bench table adjacent to the kitchen, mid-meal I noticed under our table a liquid had started to flow around my shiny black shoes. In my lone sobriety, I raised the alarm with my colleagues, but was ignored until a chef appeared and shouted that a pipe containing used cooking oil had burst and was flooding the restaurant. Suddenly all us customers had to negotiate an extremely slippery floor, climb the stairs and exit onto the street.

On our way back to the office, I was walking alongside my line manager when he suddenly said: “Would you mind if I asked your advice about a personal matter?”

Considering some of our previous, scary conversations, I was half dreading what I might be about to hear. Why did he consider me to be someone suitable to share his private thoughts? His life experiences and his concerns seemed light years away from mine.

“The problem is my mother,” he explained. “She is spending money like water and nothing I say can seem to stop her. I am extremely worried that, when she dies, my inheritance will be insufficient for me to live on.”

“And how much do you think you will inherit when the time comes?” I asked with a great deal of trepidation.

“About one million pounds,” he replied without a hint of embarrassment.

[distinguishedartisanbanana]

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To prevent office conflicts or even claims, you can outsource your threat management efforts to HR experts so your group remains happy and you have less work that isn't strictly business-related. HR experts have discussed the benefit of drug screening in the last few years. You can hire an HR consulting or outsourcing company to manage this job for you. Prior to making a decision, you ought to have a solid understanding of the advantages and disadvantages. Yes, you'll pay to outsource your HR jobs, however your yearly HR outsourcing bill will come nowhere near to the average in-house HR employee salary.

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HR departments are responsible for carrying out a variety of jobs within an organization. When you're a small to medium sized organization, this takes in a lot of time and resources that could otherwise be spent growing your company or cultivating client relations. The personnels department is accountable for making certain that your service remains certified with dynamic work laws and regulations on the local, state and federal level.

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If a staff member is hurt on the job, it needs to be handled properly. Some workers' compensation problems can consist of paid ill time, disability and policies that will cover healthcare in case of an emergency. Contracting out HR permits you to enhance this procedure and minimize issues should something take place. This not only benefits your company, however it likewise assists to safeguard your workers.

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|

Best Practices When Outsourcing Hr Functions

You have things aside from documentation and administrative hiccups to concern yourself with while nurturing your business. Outsourcing HR permits you the opportunity to increase profits by returning focus to the areas of business you understand and enjoy a lot of. You can deal with growing your service and expertise and prevent the expenses connected with improperly handled administrative matters and lost time.

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It is a fantastic method for companies to save cash because it allows them to trim the HR budget while entrusting task to firms that focus on Human Resource functions. However, it is often difficult to identify what need to be outsourced and what must stay in-house. Lots of companies might think twice to consider contracting out HR due to the fact that of the expenses associated with it.

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If HR is running inefficiently, it can end up costing a lot of cash. In fact, high HR costs can be an indication that you need to make some changes to how your HR department is run. Outsourcing ineffective processes can not just make those processes more effective but also can save money.

HR experts are busy people. There are a lot of jobs they are accountable for. However, outsourcing can assist maximize their time for more crucial tasks. With other HR tasks outsourced, your existing employees can focus on more vital things. If you have a devoted HR team, they can concentrate on larger photo jobs and technique.

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Administrative tasks can use up a great deal of HR time. If these aren't automated, they can eat into your staff members' time. Administrative tasks are needed but don't always have actually to be done by a person on-site. They can be automated by HR software if you have it. Contracting out HR can also look after those tasks.

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It's a department that does not create earnings by itself however is necessary for the running of the business. The resources HR needs to do that can end up costing a great deal of money. Outsourcing HR can assist reduce some of those costs. It can help make your HR processes more efficient and cost-effective.

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The same applies to background checks. Although the final choice of who to work with would stay with your business, the rest of the working with process can be contracted out. The outsourced HR can manage everything from advertising vacant positions to arranging through resumes. They can perform any pre-employment screenings and schedule interviews with you.

[moonlitfirefly]

In demeanor, Clara Barton was sensitive, warmhearted and she was patient. And while she spoke in a soft voice and often with a smile, she was persistent; there was "fire and force to her character."

Born on Christmas Day in 1821 in North Oxford, Massachusetts, Clara was shy as a child. To help overcome her timid nature, her parents suggested teaching as a profession. Clara followed their guidance, becoming a teacher while in her late teens.

After over a decade of teaching, she opened the first school in Bordentown, New Jersey. What started as a classroom for a few kids soon taught many of the town's children. A school board formed as the school grew. And soon, they added a principal, as the committee felt leading such a large educational organization was a role not befitting for a woman. The stresses of this change led to health ailments for Clara and eventually to her leaving.

She moved into a new field in 1855, taking a role as a clerk in the patent office, the first woman to receive such an important federal clerkship and a salary equal to the men. But once again, she faced much discrimination. Often abused and slandered by the men she worked with, Clara was fired from her role the following year.

With the breakout of the Civil War, Clara wanted to get involved. She went to the local railroad station and began nursing soldiers as they arrived. She did whatever she could to soothe the soldiers with their pain, including assisting with their treatment, managing supplies, reading to them, writing letters to family for them, and supporting them to keep their spirits up. Eventually, she would also take roles on the battlefield, putting her life in danger. In one case, a bullet went through the sleeve of her dress, killing the man she was treating. But she would write in a letter of her life as a nurse in war, “I shall remain here while anyone remains, and do whatever comes to my hand. I may be compelled to face danger, but never fear it, and while our soldiers can stand and fight, I can stand and feed and nurse them.” And for all her effort, people called Clara the "Angel of the Battlefield."

After the war, Clara learned that many family members of missing soldiers were contacting the War Department. These letters were going unanswered. She contacted President Lincoln, who appointed her into the role of corresponding with family and friends of people missing. She and her team would reply to 41,855 inquiries and help locate over twenty-two thousand missing men over a few years.

Life then took her to Europe, where she came across the Red Cross organization while relaxing to recover from poor health. Collaborating with leaders in the organization, she would eventually take on a leadership role herself and drive expanding the operation to the U.S., where she led for over twenty years until she resigned in her mid-80s.

Her niece, offering a perspective on how Clara viewed life, shared this wisdom that Clara offered her: "Be always calm, my child. Keep yourself quiet and in restraint, reserve your energies, doing those little things that lie in your way, each one as well as you can, saving your strength, so that when God does call you to do something good and great you will not have wasted your forces and strength with useless strivings, but will be ready to do the work quickly and well - go slowly, my child, and keep ready."

Clara passed away from pneumonia at the age of 90.

—

Sources:

"CLARA BARTON." The Journal of Education, vol. 43, no. 6 (1064), 1896, pp. 88-89. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/44047541. Accessed 2 Mar. 2021. / Clara Barton - Wikipedia & Wikiquote / Portrait taken in 1904 by James Edward Purdy - Clara Barton, head-and-shoulders portrait, facing front. Photograph. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, <www.loc.gov/item/2005693027/>. / SMITH, KATHERINE LOUISE. "CLARA BARTON AND THE RED CROSS SOCIETY." The Journal of Education, vol. 47, no. 23 (1182), 1898, pp. 356-357. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/44059994. Accessed 2 Mar. 2021. / STEWART, JANE A. "THE CENTENNIAL OF CLARA BARTON." The Journal of Education, vol. 94, no. 24 (2360), 1921, pp. 662. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/42831644. Accessed 2 Mar. 2021. / Letter to Mrs. Elizabeth Jennings Pitkin, January 12, 1901 - Clara Barton Papers: General Correspondence, -1912; "P" miscellaneous, 1875 to 1912. 1875. Manuscript/Mixed Material. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, <www.loc.gov/item/mss119730350/>.

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[fenristheulv]

Written as a bit of an aside, but i wanted to flesh out Monty sooo..

Monty hadn’t known what to expect. He'd never had a job before. At least not without Esther having the run of the place. Not with a salary! Not full of strangers and the possibility of getting fired and no-one to tell him when he was doing something wrong. Not without a prewritten script and Esther to lean on and… Deep breath. Focus. Bright smile. 

He´d been getting used to it, slowly. It's been a while since he'd done anything alone. Or.. well.. He'd gotten an apartment. Monty winced. One of Esther´s assistants had gotten him an apartment because she felt bad for him. All alone now. It had come fully furnished and he'd spent the last few days mostly just sitting around, staring at the off-white(seashell white, a voice in his head, sounding a lot like Esther´s, insisted) walls, getting used to, not the quiet, it was always quiet back at home, but.. the lack of Esther´s presence maybe. 

It was always there, no matter how long it’d been since she'd last been home. Days, or weeks. She was a busy woman. She had no time to just hang about at home. But her presence did. It could always be felt, like it was emblazoned across the ceiling, “Esther was here!”. Loud, oppressive, like she could see and judge everything Monty did. Not that she cared all that much as long as he wasn't embarrassing her. No! Deep breath. Focus. Bright smile. 

Things he'd accomplished. He'd gotten here! Early even. Monty hadn’t been supposed to go out much and absolutely not without Esther. Who knew what stupid thing he might say or do without her there to tell him off. Whenever she wanted to go out together she'd instruct him. Tell him what to wear and what to say. She´d introduce him and then keep him close until she either sent Monty off to charm someone or got bored and forgot she´d ever brought him. At that point he´d generally retreat to the car or a corner and wait for whatever event they were at to be over so he could go home. He’d hated those events. The only thing he hated more was being left at home, ignored. Not that it mattered now. Monty would never go to another grand opening or afterparty. He'd never get another dismissive wave and coat thrown at him in reply to his “welcome home”. And it was all his fault.

He looked through the restaurant's front windows. It was still early, not even eleven yet. It was still a while before the lunch-rush, Monty was surprised they even opened this early, although, looking at the tables, it made sense. It was as full as La Sorcière towards the end of dinner on a good day. Then there was suddenly someone staring back at him from inside the restaurant, waving him inside cheerfully. Monty felt a sudden desire to bolt. Deep breath. Focus. Bright smile. 

He walked as steadily as he could inside. The same man, who waved him in, quickly appeared in front of him. 

“Welcome! Table for one?” He asked. Smile bigger than Monty had ever been able to force his, looking at ease and comfortable, like talking with Monty was exactly what he'd hoped to do when he woke up that morning. The way Monty had never managed.

“No, sorry, hi!” Monty´s hand started a stupid little wave before he caught it and stopped. “ I’m Monty Finch. I’m supposed to work here. A Aadh..uhm Aadhya Rowland sent me an e-mail. I’m a bit early but..”

Monty stumbled over the name, despite having practiced it relentlessly on the way there. He could feel himself getting redder and redder the more he talked but he Just Couldn’t Shut Up. He considered just leaving then and there. Luckily the man across from him was not having the same issue. If anything his smile got bigger.

“Of course. Mum mentioned you’d be coming today. I’m Charles. Come along and we’ll get you started.” The man, Charles, started walking through the restaurant fast. Monty doing his best to keep up. Looking around he had to correct himself, this was how full La Sorcière was mid-dinner. They walked through a door to the back and Charles called out. “Amma!”

The next few days were a rush. Learning names of coworkers and dishes with ingredient lists where half of it sounded made up. What even was shahi jeera? And poha? When he finally voiced that, deciding he was more scared of what would happen if he couldn’t explain it to a customer than of insulting them, he was dragged into the kitchen and taught. Everyone seemed to want to explain it to him and Mrs Thevar ended up picking up a dishtowel and chasing the servers out of the kitchen, her apparently famous patience finally coming to an end. 

It was nice. Esther had given him a basic script for greeting customers, a list of expensive dishes to promote and access to the wine cellar to figure out good pairings, not that he was able to taste much besides bitterness, but beyond that he was left to flounder. In the beginning there had been some more experienced waiters to give him some advice but turnover was quick, the positions soon only filled up by people still wet behind the ears. He quickly became the go to for questions he still didn’t have the answers for. 

Here he was given a mentor. Ayesha was apparently more chef than waitress these days but seemed happy to spend her days showing him the ropes. Here he was given answers. Mrs Wang almost jumping to give them to him before he even opened his mouth. Here he was given leeway. The first time he dropped a round of dishes, lassi and glass splinters showering the floor, he tensed, sure that this was what would break the spell and have him met with the usual scorn, only to be shooed away by a smiling Charles, broom in hand, and told to change trousers. It was nice. 

And then Edwin came in. Charles' impossibly wide smile changing, softening, met with an equally soft, if smaller smile in return. Monty couldn’t help but hate him. 

That smile was meant to be directed at him. He’d been given one job. When Esther found out that Edwin Payne was coming to her restaurant, she paid more attention to the place then she had during the whole last year combined. Everything had to be perfect. The night before Payne was meant to arrive, she’d sat Monty down and told him what would happen. Apparently, the best review given by him thus far was to a restaurant whose owner’s son was now visiting his house frequently. So Monty was meant to charm him, seduce him, do whatever was needed. Payne was old money and “those types never could resist pretty young things throwing themselves at them”, Esther's words, not his. But Monty had failed. He’d actually liked Edwin, he was handsome, charming and clearly a capricorn, and really Monty had always had a thing for earth signs. But the problem with actually liking him was that Monty got nervous, so he failed. While Charles, effortlessly happy, not-a-problem-in-the-world-Charles, got Edwin´s smiles and a booming restaurant and a mom that seemed thrilled to see him. 

Except Edwin´s smile was now directed at Monty. Deep breath. Focus. Bright smile. 

“Hey again, you.” Monty could only hope that didn’t sound as awkward as it felt.

“Hello Monty.” 

Edwin was just as Monty had remembered him. Kind and funny. It was easy to fall into a friendship with him. And it got harder and harder to be mad at Charles (Who he might not talk to a lot, but Edwin always talked about). Especially after he found out they weren’t actually together. Especially after he found out Charles did have problems. After he found out that maybe he had them, himself, too, because how could he ever have managed with Esther when it could be like this. So one day, after rush hour, when Monty finally got a break between tables, he went to talk to him. Deep breath. Focus. Bright smile(A smile that got easier every day). Monty thanked him. For asking Edwin to take a look. (For giving him a chance to find out how life could be.)

Restaurant owner / chef Charles / Food critic Edwin AU - continued!!!

Hi everyone! I just wanted to say what an incredible experience it has been seeing the chef Charles/food critic Edwin AU be so amazingly received and to have so many incredible writers collaborating with me on this! I expected the idea to get a few notes and peter out but it has taken on a life of its own and I couldn't be happier. I may or may not have gotten quite emotional about it, actually. It is truly such a joy to see everyone's different styles, writerly voices, and insights into all the different aspects of this story come together in such a beautiful synthesis to celebrate culture, food, found family, healing, and of course, the characters. <3 I'm so so so so beyond floored and honored to be working with y'all, and seeing where it continues to go! Thank you for "yes and"-ing - you are all brills!!!

Anyway, the previous reblog chain was getting SUPER long thanks to everyone's contributions (<3) so I'm gonna start a second reblog chain for everyone to reblog from!

You can read the AU from the beginning here!

The masterpost for the AU is here!

[innerunderrain]

Cathartic [Yan.Childe x OlderFem.Reader]

Cathartic: the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.

Warnings: Yandere themes, disturbing thoughts, delusions, non-consensual touching, age ape (Reader is five years older), drugging, mentions of violence, implied future noncon, Childe being a weirdo unprovoked, mature themes. (Let me know if I missed some tags!)

Minors DNI

[English is not my first language warning!]

Word count: 1.2k

-

Childe first met you when he was eight years old, his mother introducing you as the daughter of a longtime friend, declaring that you'd act as a caretaker to him and his younger siblings.

Childe and his siblings were more than capable of looking after themselves, but his mother insisted that you required the money considering your family's unfortunate circumstances. He didn't know much about your family, but he recalled seeing your mother on a number of occasions, her pale face and sunken eyes inscribed in his mind. He felt a little guilty that you had to look after his family, considering you were only thirteen years old and had always lived in the presence of your mother.

You were a sweet girl in every way, delicately soft-spoken, and had round eyes that reminded him of the deers his father occasionally brought home from a deliberately protracted hunting trip. You were somewhat admirable, even though you were noticeably reserved and only spoke when someone talked to you.

In addition, you had a tendency to trip over your own feet regularly and had a difficult time finishing each task. Of course, neither he nor his siblings ever voiced disappointment, opting to instead assist you despite your stubbornness.

But it all changed when he turned fourteen and fell into a crack into the earth, swallowed up by the abyss and forced to travel through such darkness. Something within the abyss stirred up his provocateur persona, generating his eagerness for battle to the surface, transforming him into a young man that lusted over violence.

Even though only three days had allegedly transpired after he plummeted into the abyss, yet he felt as though three excruciating months seemed to have passed by. His family turned him over to the Fatui's since they couldn't cope with his new demeanour, terrified at the new sudden monster that embodied itself into their son.

By the time he was eighteen, he had established himself as a prominent figure in the Fatui community and was well-known among his peers as a daring warrior who would do anything to relish a good fight. As you became twenty-three, your mother had already passed away in the previous years, and you couldn't keep up with your expenses with just babysitting, therefore you had to get a higher-salaried job.

He didn't fully understand the nature of your new employment, which was situated near to a Fatui station, but he was aware that it involved assisting the notorious Doctor of Snezhnaya in conducting experiments. He was fortunate enough to be stationed there and occasionally have the opportunity to discreetly observe you from a distance.

He felt a little ashamed to admit this, but his feelings for over shifted into a rather - mature, if that's how people would often consider it.

He wasn't sure if he genuinely liked you or if it was just the raging hormones of a teenage boy, but something within his chest would tremble, erupting the warm sensation he so desperately desired. He would feel rather warm, with droplets of sweat accumulating on his forehead, and his clothes would feel somewhat confining.

Fortunately, you managed to cross paths with him one day and approached him with a warm grin and a hug around his shoulder, asking how he was doing. That was possibly the happiest moment he ever experienced.

Childe would then greet you on a regular basis, following you around like a lovesick puppy and begging for your attention. He knew you didn't have the heart to dismiss him, so he'd run over to you, his hands grasping your fingers in a tenuous grip.

Despite being an overall immoral person, God seems to have favorites. Childe seems to be one of them.

One day, Childe's good fortune took over when he was forced to seek refuge within your cosy home owing to an unexpected snowstorm. He was stretched out on your sofa, a soft blanket encircling his body, and god. The blanket smelt exactly like you. He almost choked on his saliva at the notion of you lazing around aimlessly on the blanket with a book in your hand, a gentle smile engraved on your pretty face. Perhaps he'll have the chance to experience that domesticated moment one day.

Currently though, you were in the kitchen, humming a quiet tone as you pour hot water into two cups before placing two bags of mint tea into the scorching cups.

Childe marched behind you without a thought, hesitantly placing one of his hands on your waist, the sound of his heartbeat rapidly drumming against his chest.

"A…Ajax, what do you think you're doing?"

You uttered, your fingers scrambling to grasp his wrist and take his hand away from your waist. Childe only chuckled casually, apologising quietly as he drew his hand away, watching as you lightly smacked him on the shoulder with a light smile on your face.

By the time he was twenty, his touches had become more daring, and he frequently pulled and tugged at your flesh while murmuring phoney excuses whenever you reprimanded him. He felt like a depraved old man, but he couldn't resist because you're so alluring. You hardly changed, except for an inch or two of growth, as he grew larger and stronger.

He could no longer always follow you as closely as he had in the past, however, due to his duty as a harbinger. He made it a point to visit your home whenever he had the chance, requesting to stay the night and stating axiomatically how much he missed you.

Child would bring you exquisite presents from his journeys, including the most exquisite gowns and delectable teas, although he occasionally added a personal touch to the teas. You'd become lethargic whenever you drank the tea, denouncing it as drowsiness and falling asleep in front of him thoughtlessly.

Tartaglia would seize those opportunities to further explore your body, his fingers sliding up and down your curves, tracing his lips on your neck. Snickering as you writhe and squirm under his grasp. Sometimes his impulses were so overwhelming that the only way he knew how to cope was to jerk himself off on your sleeping face.

Naturally, he made sure to avoid cuming on you, but every now and again, he couldn't help but chuckle at the image of you waking up and stressing out over the white liquid that soiled your sheets. But right now that wasn't a risk he was willing to take. It was quite cathartic to sit by your bedside, fondling and groping the curves of your body after a lengthy day, climaxing while consistently reciting your name as if it were some kind of holy mantra.

One day, you'll see all his efforts for what they were, melt into his arms, and squeal his name in ecstasy as you beg him to softly fuck you. But one day, it'll happen one day. But right now he's willing to wait. Ajax was a naturally patient man, and believes that one day, you'll come around. But right now, he's not taking that chance to possibly ruin that relationship between the two of you.

[odinsblog]

It was August 4th. It had been six months since Griner was pulled out of a security line at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo Airport. Officials found vape cartridges with traces of hashish oil—seven tenths of a gram, roughly the weight of a small raisin—in her bag. Griner told the court she hadn’t known that the cartridges were there; she’d packed in haste, while recovering from covid, rushing to join the other members of U.M.M.C. Ekaterinburg, the Russian team that Griner plays for during the W.N.B.A. offseason. (Top players can make six to seven times their W.N.B.A. salaries overseas.) Doctors in Arizona had prescribed her cannabis to help her deal with pain after more than a decade of sustaining injuries. She hadn’t meant to bring any drugs into Russia, and hadn’t realized what was happening to her as the nightmare unfolded. During her detainment at the airport, the translator had been withholding; Griner had to resort to the Google translate app to understand what people were saying. She’d been forced to sign papers without knowing what was on them, she said. Her phone was seized, and she was taken to prison. The maximum sentence for the charges was ten years.

Griner shared a cell with two other English-speaking women, in a prison that was once an orphanage. Her bed was too short for her to stretch out on. After breakfast, the inmates would go for walks in the courtyard; an old bust of Lenin looked on.

Somehow, she managed to hold onto some of that joyousness even in prison. When her teammate Brianna Turner wrote Griner, and told her that she was being made an honorary All Star, Griner joked that she would have “the worst stat line in the history of the All Star Game”—zero points, zero rebounds, zero assists. Griner’s sense of humor in her letters “did surprise me, but it does speak to the kind of the person she is—the life of the party, the one who always makes people laugh,” Turner said. Still, those who knew Griner best were worried when they saw the pictures and video of her in the courtroom. “My wife is struggling, and we have to help her,” Cherelle Griner told the media, explaining her decision to push more aggressively for Griner’s release after months of remaining quiet. When a planned call between Cherelle and Griner failed to happen because of a mixup at the U.S. embassy in Moscow, Griner sent a letter to President Joe Biden. “As I sit here in a Russian prison,” she wrote, “alone with my thoughts and without the protection of my wife, family, friends, Olympic jersey, or any accomplishments, I’m terrified I might be here forever.”

— Getting Brittney Griner Home

[shangchiswife]

hux- good little girl

summary: even though hux treats you like crap he's jealous when he sees you with your childhood best friend, Kylo Ren.

hux x reader, platonic!kylo ren x reader

warnings: cursing, making out

word count: 1241

Being General Hux's assistant was a tedious and meticulous job. And in general, being forced into the First Order was not anywhere close to your first job choice. But your salary made up for it.

When you were done with college, your advisors had advised you to enter the First Order. You had initially declined until the First Order had banged on your door to join or they'd kill your family. So you reluctantly agreed.

Even though the First Order's message was harsh you often found yourself curious about it.

You were a very ambitious person and once you joined the First Order you climbed and climbed the ranks and now were General Hux's assistant after hard work.

"Y/N!" an angry voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

You looked up to see a frustrated General Hux looking down on you.

"Oh, do you need something General?" you asked staring up into your superior's sapphire blue eyes.

"Yes actually, I need you to turn in your notes from the last battle with the resistance in an hour,"

Your heart dropped. You had forgotten to do those notes. Usually, you were so on top of your schedule too you didn't know what happened.

"You gave me until tomorrow, General that isn't fair!" you cried as anger bubbled up in your system.

"Watch your tone Y/L/N," Hux snarled as he got close to your face making you glare at him.

The rest of your co-workers stared at you almost with sympathy.

"You will do it immediately and if I don't expect it in an hour you'll be punished," the general said as he turned on his heel to stare at the other workers.

"What are you idiots looking at! You all have work to do so get going!" he barked as he stormed off.

You stuck up your middle finger at his retreating form.

"Fuck you, Hux," you mumbled.

You didn't know how you could bear to put up with him but somehow you did even when it was hard.

You stared at your datapad in front of you and sighed as you started typing away the details of the last battle.

When you felt a tap on your shoulder a few minutes later you felt like you were going to kill whoever was interrupting your work.

As you whipped your head around to scream at this person you were face to face with Kylo Ren.

Your angry aroma disintegrated and you put on a smile.

"Kylo! What are you doing here?" you asked.

You and Kylo were childhood friends introduced to each other by your parents. Your parents were always saying that you two would end up married but you never felt that way about him.

Once you joined the First Order you were so happy to see a familiar face.

"I had some time away from my knights so I thought I'd see you," his voice was robotic from the "threatening" mask he wore.

"That's so nice but I have so much to do right now, Ky because of stupid fucking General Hux," you growled.

"Why am I not surprised that he's the source of your anger," the commander chuckled at your anger.

"It isn't funny! I completely forgot about this one task and then he springs it up and says that instead of giving it to him tomorrow I have to give it in an hour well less than that!" you covered your face with your hands.

Kylo sighed and put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Nearby General Hux burned with jealousy.

Why was Kylo Ren touching the person that he was infatuated with?

He watched as you threw your head back in laughter at something he had said.

Your laughter was like music to his ears.

He knew that he didn't treat you well but he didn't know how to manage his crush on you.

He rushed over to where you were and put a hand on your shoulder and gripped it tightly making you yelp.

Both you and Kylo turned your heads over to General Hux who had a tight smile on his lips.

"General," Kylo sneered.

"Commander," Hux acknowledged as he looked at Kylo with disgust.

"Shouldn't you be with your knights training them?" Hux lifted his chin up haughtily as he stared at your friend.

"No actually because I have a break right now," Kylo said cooly as he put his hands behind his back.

"I see...well I have to borrow Y/L/N for a moment," Hux harshly grabbed your arm and pulled you.

"Don't touch her like that," Kylo spoke dangerously as Hux didn't turn back and kept pulling you as if you were on a leash and went into a secluded hallway.

"Don't touch me like that," you sneered as you rubbed your arm gently.

Suddenly he shoved you against the wall with his lips close to your ear.

"I am your superior, Y/L/N, remember that my dear," the ginger-haired man said as he traced your jaw with his gloved fingers making chills go down your spine.

You couldn't deny but feel an attractiveness towards your general even if he treated you like shit.

He then started to trace your lips.

His blue eyes bore into yours as he looked for a reaction from you.

You started to shiver.

"I think I need to wash this pretty little mouth of yours from all of the disrespect that comes out of it," the man continued to trace your lips as you said nothing and averted your eyes.

You couldn't help but feel turned on by this situation.

He brought his lips close to your ear again and nibbled on it for a moment before speaking. You closed your eyes with pleasure.

"I want you to be a good little girl and finish your work and stop talking to Kylo Ren," he said.

"Kylo's my friend though..." you whispered.

"Friends don't look at friends that way my dear," Hux stepped back and admired you.

"Why should I be taking orders from you anyway!" you shouted.

Hux put his hand around your throat making your eyes widen.

"Once again I am your superior, Y/L/N, let that stick into your head," he purred as his eyes looked to your parted lips.

"Just fucking kiss me already!" you blurted out as his eyes widened for a moment but he smashed his lips onto yours and you wrapped your hands around his neck.

"Y/N are you okay I thought I heard-"

The both of you stopped kissing at looked at Kylo Ren's figure.

From under his mask, you already knew that Kylo's jaw had dropped.

"Oh," he said simply as he stared at both of your red faces.

"Use a condom," he said as he turned away and left with his robes floating behind him.

You burst into laughter as Hux stared at you with a small smile on his face.

He then pushed you up against the wall again as you smirked at him.

"What about my assignment?" you questioned as you batted your eyelashes at him. He put his hand on your cheek and stroked it.

"Have as much time as you need, now can we just get to the good stuff...if you want?" he asked.

"Yeah but make sure to have a condom I don't want to make Kylo's only request go to waste," you let out a loud laugh as he began to kiss your neck.

[moonctzeny]

Softer than velvet

pairing: magazine co-editor! mark lee x fem!y/n

genre: smut

warnings: office sex

word count:  2,926

summary: “Mark is a co-editor in the fashion magazine you work for, monopolizing everyones attention with his looks, including yours. Prompted by his vast knowledge about lingerie and his tendency to want to rip them apart, you invite him in your office, and you definitely put him to work”

a/n: inspired by the legendary scene from ‘Community’ and a discussion I had with my bf and best friend about lingerie.

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

He looked dashing again, as always. 

While Monday morning finds most employees in their tousled bed hair, dark eye circles and crooked buttons from hasting to be on time, Mark Lee looks like he jumped out of the fashion magazine you worked for. He was an editor, like yourself, yet the way he confidently strolled through the hallways, capturing everyone’s attention, had executives and employees alike toying with the idea of having him in their bed.

Mark’s shoulders looked even broader in the white shirt he had chosen for the day, neatly ironed and held together with a bright coral tie. A suede brown vest, that would look plain weird on anyone else that would dare pull it off, showed off his tiny waist perfectly, short enough for the workers on the welcome desk to whisper in admiration about his ‘cute perky butt’.

As one of Mark’s many secret fans, you wanted to join in on their giggling, but as his coworker you had to keep yourself from indulging in those dirty thoughts that kept creeping in your head. It was hard to deny this sweet distraction, that perks you up in excitement and turns up the heat of your body.  Like now, that he makes his way towards you in the main lobby, and you wonder how nice his pink locks would look between your thighs.

“Good morning, y/n”, he says when he’s finally standing in front of you, and you almost spill your mug filled with instant coffee in the sound of his raspy morning voice.

“Lee”, you address him almost coldy, but your smirk as you take a sip of the hot liquid gives you away. You can’t stop yourself from checking him out, his new high-end belt begging to be tugged on and used in other ways that it was originally made for. He bites his cheek when he notices your eyes laying on his crotch a second too long but he decides not to mention it.

“Are you going on a cigarette break soon?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes before making sure to lower your voice. “Didn’t you hear yesterday’s briefing? New boss is trying to cut them and apparently so must we. No smoking allowed here anymore.”

“Then you chose the wrong outfit”

He seems satisfied with the little yelp you let out, internally scolding yourself for getting so worked up over his compliment but hell, there’s nothing more you want than to fuck that smile off his face. If that’s what he wanted that’s what he’d get, but you refuse to look all fucked out here in the open just from the mere words of Mark Lee. Not when so many of your assistants were watching.

“We got assigned the lingerie issue together”, you change the subject and start walking towards your offices at the end of the floor. “ I need you to show me your picks later”

“It was hard finding anything worth including, except for Savage X Fenty nothing new is in the game. The La Perla designs are so outdated, and don’t get me started on Fleur du Mal.”

“Wow, you seem to know a lot about lingerie, huh?”, you exclaim, genuinely impressed, and you let him bask in his pride for a little. He runs his fingers through his hair and you catch a whiff of his shampoo, its scent coupled with his cologne highly addictive.

“I love fashion, and it’s kind of my job so I have to keep up. I’m not really a big fan of them, though.”

You raise an eyebrow at his confession, and halt as you arrive outside his office that is a little nearer than yours. Your body is leaning up against the wall, in a way that accentuates the curves of your body and Mark doesn’t try to be discreet in his staring. He might as well raise his hands, go through the layers and layers of palpable sexual tension between you and run them all over your body like you so desperately want.

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re pretty”, he starts, and you’re not sure if he’s addressing you, your lips or your decolletage.”But if we were getting down to business and I saw you in lingerie, all I’d think about is how to rip it off of you”

It takes every ounce of self control in your body and the thought of how much you need your salary not to pounce at him, and start removing his clothes right then and there. The masks of professionalism have vanished and so has your patience with him, so you fix his tie, tying it up a little tighter than it needs to be and you love the gasp that leaves his chapped lips. 

“Since you are so knowledgeable Mark, I’m not sure if the lingerie I’m wearing is off-season. How about you come to my office later to hand me your picks and give me your honest opinion?”

He chokes on thin air, the angry veins on his neck twitching from the lack of circulation to his head as he huffs out a chuckle. 

“I’ll be there before the meeting starts”, he promises before slipping inside his office, his hands brushing yours as he slides past you. You bet he thinks he’s smooth, but his reflection on the glass door of his neighboring office betrays him, catching him in the act of staring at your ass as you walk away. You wink at his reflection and he winces when he realizes, but you’ll forgive him. This sweet distraction in the name of Mark Lee was all you needed this boring Monday morning, and you can’t wait to see if your coworker is as skillful as he talks himself up to be.

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

The wait wasn’t long, but it sure was painful, your mind wandering at the conversation you had with Mark this morning and eyes checking the time every five minutes. You’d almost miss his figure in your absentmindedness, standing outside your office, nervously shifting his body weight from one leg to the other. 

The glass separating your office with the main hall was tinted, with a few stripes of clear glass on the very top, giving you a limited view of the people hurrying past. Through those lines you also saw Mark, hesitating to knock and giving himself what looks like a pep talk. You think it’s adorable and decide to take him out of his misery, getting up yourself to open the door.

His mouth drops open when you do, looking like a deer in the headlights with his big doe eyes and binder that is placed -strategically- over his crotch. You smile politely and motion him to come in, your meetup not seeming strange to any passerby, as you have worked together many times in the past. The moment he turns the knob behind him to close the door, Mark drops the designs from his hands, pictures of lingerie flying in the air and landing across the carpeted floor. You barely manage to turn the lock before he pushes you backwards with a hand on your jaw, until you feel the wood of your desk digging against your ass.

You close your eyes and immediately are braced with the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth, the strong aftertaste of cinnamon candy tingling your tastebuds. Bringing him closer by his tie, you let him lift you up the table, legs wrapping around his waist and you verify that he was, indeed, already hard behind that binder. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that”, he murmurs in the kiss and tugs on the roots of your hair suddenly, forcing your head to tilt back and thus expose your neck.

His breath is hot over your collarbones and the feeling of his hardness is driving you insane, so you let your blazer fall from your shoulders before taking off his vest. Mark helps you out by loosening his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt, but you stop him when his chest is almost half-exposed.

“Don’t take it off, you look sexy like that”

He blushes from your compliment, momentarily letting go of his surprisingly dom persona.

“I thought I was supposed to examine your outfit though?”, he asks cheekily and you remove your blouse, revealing the teddy that’s been hugging your body.

It’s black, with a mesh body and velvet lining over the cups and crotch area. The adjustable straps help your boobs look full and round, the velvet strips that are going down, parallel to your body lines, make you look as curvy as ever. 

Mark looks a little lost, like a kid in a candy store and he clears his throat before speaking up again. 

“I need to feel the fabric”, he states, almost too seriously for the situation you were both in currently and he runs his fingers from your belly button upwards to your abs. His fingers toy with the lace adorning the cups and he finally squeezes your boobs. He chuckles at the naughtiness of what you’re doing right now, breaking character, and you’re reminded of how young Mark really is. You free your right boob from its constraint and the sight of your nipple, hard and erect for him, immediately sobers him up. 

His mouth has stayed open in his trance, and you take advantage of it by placing your fingers over his lips, then slowly pushing them in. With his tongue wetting your fingertips, and his big eyes glued on you, waiting for your next move, he really resembles a puppy, and you gloat in the sudden gain of control over him.

When you feel that he’s had enough, or rather, that you’ve had enough, you push your digits out of the comfortable rim of his mouth, coating your nipple with a light layer of his spit.

“So?”, you mewl seductively, “what do you think?”

“It needs to be softer, I think”

You stop massaging yourself, tilting your head in confusion by his critique.

“Softer? What is softer than velvet?”

Mark smirks back at you, hand leaving your breast and travelling south. 

“I can think of something” 

He finds the buttons over the crotch of the teddy, the pieces of fabric they’re holding together damp with your arousal. You shiver when you feel his fingers easily gliding through your folds, teasing your entrance and pinching your clit.

A whine leaves your lips as he removes his fingers momentarily, falling on his knees in front of you. Suddenly remembering where you are, you stretch your body a little in your paranoia, checking if anyone is standing outside your office, witnessing your dirty meetup. But Mark is quick to bring you back up to heaven, with a flick of his tongue over your clit.

“Mmmm, so soft”

He looks so fucking delicious looking up at you, tie discarded on the floor now and lips coated with your wetness and his spit. You can feel the scruffiness of his 5 o’clock shadow slightly scratching the inside of your thighs that are so sensitive and shake in pleasure. Reaching your hands back for any form of stability you knock down some of the stationery, but how can you care when Mark draws circles with his fingers on your entrance?

He pushes in his index, then his middle finger as well, setting a pace that is as slow as it is sinfully pleasurable. Your small office is filled with the sounds of his kissing and slurping, but you can’t ask him to be quiet when you struggle to lower your moans as well. The feeling of the soft pads of his fingers massaging your walls and his tongue sucking on your pussy makes you light-headed, your nails digging in the wooden surface and desperately chasing your high. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and you bite your fist so as not to make a sound, but Mark’s not done yet. 

He places one hand sturdily on your hips, the other cupping your left boob, successfully helping you keep your balance. He keeps lapping up your arousal, sucking on the swollen bud and you swear you see stars. You’re thrashing around in your overstimulation, too close to screaming from pleasure and you grab Mark’s hair to push him away. 

His eyes are blown out from arousal, mouth gasping for air and chin wet with your juices. The desire to have him is animalistic, and you force him up by his collar, replacing his place on the floor.

“My turn”

Unbuckling his belt in swift moves, you manage to free his member from his boxers, bright red and leaking for you. Placing his tip on your tongue, you can taste the saltiness of his precum, and Mark sighs at the warmth of your mouth. You rest your hands on his thighs, looking up to see his pretty face contorted in pleasure when you swirl your tongue around his length. 

“Oh my god, just like that”

Determined to return the favour, you gulp around him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You ignore the burning feeling on your knees and throat and keep him there, until tears are threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. After bobbing your head over his cock, listening to his swears over and over again you can tell he is close, and you start jerking him, slowly picking up your pace.

He lets out a guttural groan when you start palming his tip and he slaps your hand away, taking his dick in his own grasp. “Show me something worth cumming for. I want to see your body”

You fumble with the cups of your lingerie, trying to free your boobs but it’s hard, with the straps getting in the way and the fabric being too sturdy to stretch so far. Mark gets impatient with you taking so long, so he crouches forward, bunching up the mesh in his fists and ripping it in half.

Shocked yet turned on by his action you let the garment drop from your body, leaving you in only your skirt that is bunched up over your hips. Passing the mounds on your breasts you let your hands move lower, and you start to play with your pussy for Mark to see. You’re still so sensitive from your orgasm earlier and you let him know, moaning his name as you expose yourself fully for him.

As he moves his wrist frantically over his shaft, his eyes are glued on your lower lips. They are a raging red at this point, and he’s losing his mind over the look of pure lust painted on your face. He wishes he could paint it with something else but he knows you’re in the workplace, yet nothing can keep him from entertaining the thought.

“Where do you want it?”, he huffs out just a second before he’s reaching his own high and you open your mouth, giving him a silent invitation. He moves his hips closer to you, tapping his tip over your eager tongue and he watches intently at the ropes of cum that are slowly filling up your mouth.

You raise your thumb on your lips, collecting the drops that are spilling from the corner of your mouth and you swallow before Mark can even hand you the metal bin next to your desk. He seems to be in complete ecstasy, chuckling for no reason as he puts his softening member back into his underwear and helps you back into your clothes (or whatever is left from them).

“I’m sorry for ripping your lingerie”, he mumbles finally and you want to coo at how cute he sounds, “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise”

You laugh lightly, helping him at picking up the pictures of the lingerie pieces that are scattered on your floor. “It better be one of your picks”, you tease him, waving the burgundy set you were holding and he licks his lips, picturing you in it.

“Sure. How about I give it to you over some dinner this weekend?”

His offer excites you, so you nod in agreement, and you shuffle awkwardly in the heavy atmosphere of the room. As you pick up the last picture, placing it neatly inside Mark’s binder, you feel his hand wrapping around your waist, bringing you close against him. Instinctively, you kiss him, allowing yourself to get lost in the movement of his lips, that mostly taste like you and you nibble at them lightly. Mark was in the middle of squeezing the softness of your ass, humming in appreciation, when a beep comes simultaneously from both of your phones. It’s the meeting he was talking about this morning and you groan for having to let him go.

He hands you a piece of gum when you both enter the hall and you take it, praying that no one will smell his cologne all over your skin, or notice that you’re going commando under your clothes. One of your co-workers and Mark’s buddy, that you address with a nod every time you cross paths in the office kitchen catches up to you, and throws an arm over his shoulders.

“Mark, my man, you’re glowing today! Wanna grab a bite after the meeting?”

The boy turns his head in your direction, giving you a once over and winking your way, before answering with a smile that is so evident in his voice.

“Nah, thanks. I already ate”

[princeandcrow]

The Prince and The Crow - update

Apologies to my readers, there will be no update again this week 😭

As well as trying to finish off another fic, I have also got a bit stuck, and keep getting confused over the timeline. TBH I'm not sure when the next chapter will be posted, but rest assured I am still writing! This fic is like my baby, and I don't want to rush it or put out inferior content, so please be patient with me.

While you wait, here's a little bonus snippet, no smut just pure fluff, (well maybe insinuated) also posted on Ao3. You could also check out my pinterest board for the fic.

~💀🖤💀~

Petronella hates shopping, but Severus wants to treat her...

‘What about this one?’ Severus holds up a charcoal blouse that Petra had pulled out to try on before noticing the price tag. ‘It’s too expensive.’ She dismisses. ‘Try it anyway.’ He insists.

Petra hates clothes shopping. Clothes, she loves; the way that the right outfit can make you feel. Some items of clothing are like wearing a comfortable blanket, others can express something about yourself, and some outfits can make you feel like you rule the world. Shopping, on the other hand always makes her feel stressed, and anxious. There’s the crowds, the awkward social interactions with the sales staff, the discomfort of trying on different items of clothing, memories of being forced into tight, scratchy, frilly, ugly gowns, and of course the shame of not fitting the standard conventions of “attractive female physique”.

Severus on the other hand seems to be in his element. Scanning through the racks, and perusing fabric samples, he could be picking out potions ingredients in an Apothecary. ‘We actually have a similar blouse in a tailored option for the same price, if you were to opt for softened cotton instead of silk.’ The sales assistant puts in. ‘Can we see the fabric options.’ Severus asks. Petra scowls at him as the assistant fetches the samples. ‘I said it’s too much.’ Petra mutters. She was already buying a new tailored suit, and she didn’t like being frivolous. Her Professor’s salary was more than enough to cover her costs, and she had managed to save a little over the past few years, but she liked to donate to various charities, and wanted to put some aside for Harry too, just in case.

‘Then let me buy it. Severus says casually. He holds up a fabric sample. ‘This shade of grey is perfect for you.’ He states, his gaze lingering on her eyes. Petra rolls her eyes and pushes the fabric book away. ‘Oh. That is soft.’ She says, feeling the delicate fabric between her fingers. ‘That’s cotton?’ She preferred cotton to silk anyway. Severus smirks. ‘No.’ She tells him firmly. ‘I don’t need you buying clothes for me.’ ‘What if I want to.’ ‘I’m not a doll.’ Petra scowls. She is starting to get a little worked up now. ‘Give us a minute.’ Severus instructs the assistant, who nods and makes himself scarce.

‘Petronella. Breathe.’ Severus says, holding her hands. ‘I’m not trying to dress you up. You are beautiful in everything you wear – even the t-shirts that look like they’ve been worn every day since 1972.’ ‘Some of them have been.’ She responds, calming a little. ‘I don’t care what you wear, as long as you are comfortable. I just want to…’ He clears his throat looking a little embarrassed. ‘I would like to do something nice for you, but buying you something would also make me feel good. I come from less than you remember. Being able to spend money on this sort of thing… I enjoy it.’

Petra thinks for a minute. ‘I’ll try it on.’ She relents. ‘But that’s the last thing.’ Even the off the rack version is quite flattering, and she has to hold back a small smirk at Severus’ gaze roving over her curves. The tailor makes up the custom version to her measurements in the soft dark grey cotton while she is making her other purchases.

‘You look altogether too pleased with yourself.’ Petra sneers playfully at Severus as they stroll back through Knockturn Alley towards the pub. ‘Do you have any idea how good your tits look in that blouse?’ He smirks. ‘Why do you think I let you buy it for me?’ She responds, biting her lip.

They skip lunch and head straight for their room on the top floor of the Leaky Cauldron.

[alecxaheart]

Falls At 4419 | Bang Chan Oneshot

✎ Genre : Strangers to Lovers AU, Fluff

✎ Pairings : Bang Chan X Reader

✎ Word Count : 2.1k words

✎ Synopsis : Who could've thought that your ride to love life starts at a bus stop.

✎ Requested.

You had the usual tiring daily routine for the rest of your life. Your weekday mornings start with your alarm clock greeting you "good morning" in the most annoying beeping way as possible. What a gentle reminder, too, to tell you that it's almost time for work.

" Work again? " you groaned at the thought, hands reaching out to the bedside table to turn off the alarm.  Once you did, you forced yourself out of the bed and start preparing for today.

You were completely exhausted due to the stack of work your boss gives you.

It's to the point that it made you sleep deprived, haggard or just messy in general. You don't even know if you ever managed to cover all of that, physically, with make-up. However, when it came to your words and actions, it's noticeable when one paid attention. It's a good thing that Ms. Han was blind to that, or else you'll be told that you're lacking and higher chances of you getting fired.

But aside from every negative thing about your occupation, so far your performances were praised by your co-workers. Salary has never been a problem, in fact, you've been paid higher than expected. Maybe it's from the plus being Ms. Han's pet-sitter — for the love of all things, it had to be a cat.

You're almost done preparing for work. With your feet taking a quick slip into your black heels, you're on your way out of the house. Clacking noises could be heard each time your heels meet the pavement.

As you were headed towards the bus stop, you felt something vibrating from your purse. Opening it, you found your phone ringing. The caller ID displays the name of your boss, Ms. Han. What could be the kind of good morning greeting I'll receive from her today?

You answered it and placed it to your right ear, immediately hearing your name. " Assistant (L/N) (Y/N)! " Ms. Han called out through the other line.

" Good morning to you too, Ms. Han. You have matters to discuss with me at this time? " You replied, stopping at your tracks as you've reached the bus stop. All you need to do now is wait for the bus and keep yourself together with whatever Ms. Han may throw at you.

" I'm assuming you've already done the project for today, " You hummed in response. There was sound of a slight slip from the other line, you assumed that Ms. Han was drinking tea. " Make sure to deliver that presentation well. After that, I want you to attend the board meeting this afternoon on my behalf. Send them my sincere apologies for I have other more important business matters. "

So much for being trustworthy..

" Noted, Ms. Han. " Your ride finally came. Once it opened it's doors, you hopped in and tapped your card at a machine.

" Also, fix this week's schedule. Cancel everything on Friday, " Ms. Han added. You ended up seating at the very end of the bus, beside the window. It just happened to be the only row of seats that's vacant.

" Got it, Ms. Han. Anything else? "

" Ah, right. After the board meeting, take care of Eliza, " Her cat – you should've seen that coming. " Don't worry about the ride to my house, my driver will be picking you up. " She continued, taking one more sip at her tea. The ride was never a problem, but her cat is. Nevertheless, you accepted it since you both needed the job and money.

It didn't took that long until the conversation finally ended. When she hung up, you deeply sighed and looked out of the window. Spring was almost over, the atmosphere started to get colder. The cherry blossom trees began to slowly wither, every petal that has fallen decorated the road and sidewalk. It was both exquisite yet melancholic. Could you ever compare yourself as a cherry blossom? To bloom all over again yet someday, you'll wither once again. Possibly.

As you were gazing outside, your eyes widened as you saw someone else's reflection who sat beside you. His airpods plugged in his ears as he bobbed his head to the beat. You never knew or felt that his presence is already there, not until right now.

He's the same guy you meet each day whenever you took this bus. To be honest, he's eye-catching ever since the first time you saw him. He had the usual black outfit. Curly brunette headed, tall nose, dazzling dark brown orbs, lips — Okay, let's stop fawning over him. In conclusion, he has very well defined facial features. It was obvious that he's one of God's masterpiece, many should've envied him with that.

Despite of him always being your seatmate when the seat next to yours is vacant, you both never conversed with one another. Even with him having an eye for you from the start, no one even dared to start one.

Although, maybe today's a bit different.

The bus abruptly stopped in its tracks as the stop light just switched to red. The driver groaned and scratched the back of his neck.

At the back of the bus, there's you who is silently staring at the window. Awfully close to the window. However, when the bus hit the brakes, your forehead bumped onto the glass. " Ouch! " You groaned in pain as you held your forehead, checking if it bled and to ease the pain. The curly brunette noticed this and paused the music he's playing on the phone. He shifted in his seat to face you, " Are you okay? ". Your eyes met his worrisome ones and it made your heart skip a beat. He's more dashing when he's this close to you. It also made you more timid towards him that you began to stutter, " I- I guess I'm okay.. ".

" Let me see, " He reached out to your hand that's covering your forehead. His hand accidentally touched the sore part in the process, causing you to wince in pain. He whispered an apology before carefully taking your hand off and scan your forehead. He sighed in relief, " Thankfully, it wasn't such a big impact but it did turn red. You can place ice or put an ointment on it as soon as you get off, ok? " You responded with small nod and smile, your heart melting at his kindness.

He carefully placed his hand on your head and light pushed it back, gesturing you to rest. You gladly complied and he smiled, showing his dimples. It was cute, you thought.

" Does it still hurt? " He asked.

" A bit but bearable, " You replied, closing your eyes.

" How about a small talk to distract you from the pain? "

" Sounds good to me. "

" My name's Chan, you? "

" The name's (Y/N). It's nice to finally know you, Chan. "

And that's how everything started to blossom, at the end of Spring.

After that day, you started to anticipate what's going to happen on the next days that you never complained about the annoying beeping clock at dawn ever again. Especially and specifically, on the bus. Your mornings now start with you enthusiastically getting up and preparing for work. Chan happened to bring more interest into your life.

You don't know what kind of sorcery Chan does to always know how to remove your stress or just to make your days better in general. However, you don't mind it. Instead, you're really thankful for it.

You blossomed more in Fall, like a cosmos flower. You bloomed while the rest withered.

You excelled so much at work. The company was at its rough times, yet you handled everything outstandingly that you were praised by the whole company. Even Chan was happy for you, which mattered to you most.

" I knew you were exceptional ever since the beginning, " He murmured while hugging you securely, smiling. You, too, smiled brightly and blushed at that.

It's not only you who blossomed this fall. Your love, too, bloomed in Fall.

You never knew that the potential crush you had for Chan back when he was just a seatmate at the bus would grow. You fell head over heels for his giggles, smiles, kindness, goofiness, just for him. It keeps getting stronger as more time passes that you couldn't control it anymore. This was a first ever since you started working. You never really paid attention to your love life since work was always in the way. You're foreign to this feeling, you're clueless on how to handle it.

This love is the most amazing feeling, you'd be honest. Yet you fear that you'll be rejected or wouldn't be loved back. Then love would be the worst feeling.

Although, your faith and hope will never be taken away from you until the day hasn't came yet, until there's a possibility. You'll keep hoping on his small gestures you'd like to think are hints. You'll put your love for him in the hands of faith. And with that, you became patient with him. Waiting for the time that the true feelings will start to unveil.

______________________________

찬의

Channie

Hey (Y/N)

Are you done with work?

Almost

Why do you ask?

I'll pick you up, ok?

I'm on my way there.

'That's first, yet weird.

But I don't mind.'

Alright, be careful

Seen 7:02PM

______________________________

A month has passed, you two grew closer than ever. Yet occassionally, there would be a hint of awkwardness between the two of you. One would act weirdly, stutter or get nervous around one another. You hoped that it wouldn't ruin your friendship. You valued this friendship more than anything else.

Heading towards the front doors of this company, you could see Chan's figure on the other side. Waiting for you to come out. Once you did, he turned to face you and greet you with a sweet smile. You smiled back. " Let's go? " He said as he offered you his hand. You nodded and timidly took it into yours. That's another first.

Both of you exchanged the usual conversation. Asking about each other's day, telling short stories, joking once in a while, then some comfortable silence here and there, it felt just right. It's already dark out, the city light and streetlights being the only source of light, while the moon is having the pitch black sky to itself. The streets aren't as busy as it was in the daylight. You could hear the rustling and crunching of autumn leaves as it was carried by the wind or getting stepped on.

The two of you eventually reached the bus stop, taking a seat as you wait for a bus. " Do you know the number that bus has? " Chan asked out of the blue, eyes boring on the street. You hummed in confusion, he chuckled. " The bus we always took, especially in the mornings. "

" Ohh.. To be honest, I'm completely unaware of that. " You answered, scratching the back of your neck. Once more, he chuckled then gazed at you while your attention was somewhere else. A bus was coming in your peripheral vision. Once it was in front of you, you scanned for it's number. At the very end, it's written..

" 4419, " You turned to Chan, only to find him staring at you with adoration. You two stayed like that for a few minutes. His eyes were so soft, looking ever so luminous and sparkling underneath the light. He took out a flower he plucked from earlier, placing it behind your ear. Not even tearing his eyes away from yours. " Beautiful, like a cosmos flower, " He whispered, but it was enough for you to hear it clearly. You've felt like you're continously falling, yet Chan still has his grip on you. The same grip when he first held your hand back when you've bumped your forehead on the bus. Loving, gentle yet firm. Telling that he's willing to fall with you. " I love you, (Y/N). "

With just those 4 words, you were filled with so much joy and shock. You froze on your seat. For a second you panicked on what's the right word to say, asking if an I love you too was enough or is it already too redundant.

Although you knew that Chan's anticipating an answer as the clock continues to tick, and waiting is dreadful. Chan will love and cherish anything you say to him. Just the thought of you being truly his will bring him genuine happiness, and that's enough. No need for further more explanations. Then you've came to the conclusion, that there's no other words that best describes your true feelings for him. Simple yet genuine, " I love you too, Chan. "

Now, a love fully blossomed at the end of Falls.

End.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Progression. 

Pairing: Yandere!Best-Jeanist/Reader.

Commission for the lovely @99shadowcat99.

Word Count: 1.6k.

Synopsis: You’re sure Hakamada only has your best interests in mind. You came to him in a time of need, after all, and as a hero, it’s only natural that he’d want to see you improve. You’re sure he does, you only wish he didn’t have such a cold way of showing it.

TW: Toxic Relationships, Financial Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, and Slight Stockholm Syndrome.

It probably didn’t help that you’d been at such a low point, when Hakamada first found you.

It was something you couldn’t deny, something you didn’t try to deny, not when it had such a lasting impact on your relationship. He’d pitied you, back then, met you when you were broke and desperate and willing to do just about anything for a recommendation, a place to stay, a steady wage and all the stability he and his agency could provide, if you just managed to worm your way in. You could only be thankful he’d decided to interview you personally, despite his position. You never would’ve gotten the job, otherwise.

You’d never admitted that to him, not out loud, but that was something you liked about Hakamada - he picked up on little details, no matter how subtle. He noticed up on your willingness to work overtime, your erratic apologies whenever he called you into his office, regardless of the reason why. Your chronic lateness, your reliance on the charity of your coworkers whenever the staff went out for after-hour drinks. You’d never told him, but you never needed to. He was more than willing to help you, whether or not you let him know how much you appreciated it. He was a Hero, after all. It only made sense that he'd do whatever he could for someone in need.

The job hadn’t lasted, you weren’t really cut out for it, but Hakamada had.

Some days, you could even convince yourself he’d done it out of love.

Tonight, the task was easier than it usually was. In his penthouse, standing in front of the full-body mirror he’d had brought in and installed just for you, it was easy to fall into the idea that you were the object of his affections, the apple of his eye, someone he cared about and someone he cared about genuinely, especially when you were already dressed in clothes he’d bought, wearing the jewelry he’d been generous enough to pay for. You knew it wasn’t much, for him. Even if everything he gave you was designer, expensive enough to make your heart speed up and your throat go dry, it wouldn’t make a dent in his salary, and he seemed to like providing for you more than you liked being provided for, honestly. But, you couldn’t refuse. Hakamada had done so much for you, he was still doing so much for you. If he wanted someone to spoil, you couldn’t refuse. And, while you were on the topic…

“Are you ready, beautiful?”

You couldn’t let him know you were so reluctant, either.

You hadn’t heard him come in, but that didn’t stop you from leaning into his touch as you felt his hand cup your cheek, its twin coming to rest on your hip. He was gentle, if nothing else, his chest barely touching your back as he leaned forward, eyes scanning over your reflection, searching patiently for something to correct. You didn’t mind, submitting yourself to his scrutiny with minimal resistance. He was a perfectionist. He looked at everyone like a project, and you weren’t an exception.

Still, you tried to sound confident when you answered. Even if that meant lying through your teeth. “I think so,” You said, smoothing over your outfit one last time. “It’s a Hero’s gala, right? It’s not like anyone’s going to bother paying attention to me.”

“If you’re on my arm, they will.” He always sounded so stern. This wasn’t your first event, you’d gone plenty of times as his assistant and as his partner, but Hakamada liked to be thorough. Before, he’d dug the heel of his palm into the base of your spine, pinched your cheek whenever your attention started to drift, and even after his valet had already arrived, he’d still spend the better half of the drive searching for loose threads and stray hairs to aggressively correct. Now, to fix your posture, he was kind enough to stop at squeezing your hip, his free hand nudging gently at your shoulder. It was merciful, in comparison, but it was still difficult not to feel like a prized mutt, locked into a muzzle and dragged onto a pedestal. “Keep your back straight. You remember everything we went over, don’t you?”

Of course. He’d only spent the past three hours drilling it into you. “I do, Hakamada.”

There was a pause, just the slightest bit of hesitation. “Hakamada?”

To your credit, you caught your mistake a second after he did. “I mean, I do, Tsunagu--”

“You’re really going to address me like that in front of journalists?”

Your eyes dropped below the mirror. For whatever reason, you didn’t want to look at him, anymore. “I’m sorry, Tsun��.”

Luckily, that seemed to satisfy him. Hakamada let out a heavy sigh, and you could feel him shaking his head, more out of disappointment than genuine annoyance. The gesture was familiar, as was the anger-tinged guilt that accompanied it, but he still took his time, letting the feeling brew before he bothered to speak. Sometimes, you had to wonder if he did that on purpose, if he knew he was only making you feel worse by trying to act so forgiving. Most of the time, though, you pushed the thought out before you could dwell on it. You’d only be making things worse for yourself, if you started thinking about things like that. “I’m just trying to help,” He started, the mantra already engraved into your mind. “You’ve come so far since I first found you. All that progress shouldn’t go to waste.”

It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need you to agree. It shouldn’t, and as far as Hakamada was concerned, you didn’t get a choice in the matter. “I know. I’ve come too far to backtrack.”

“You’ve come too far to throw it away.” That was something you didn’t like, when you’d worked for him. It was all or nothing, with Hakamada. A mission was either a success or a disaster. His newest sidekick was either a prodigy or a wash-out waiting to happen. Failure wasn’t an option, not when the slightest mistake meant disrepair. “Things have gotten better for you, haven’t they? You’ve enjoyed your time with me?” It was a question, this time, but he didn’t want an answer, even if he paused as gloved fingers trailed over your side, only leaving your skin for a moment before he cupped your jaw, tilting your head back just far enough for the change to be noticeable. Just far enough to force you to look at your reflection, whether or not you wanted to. “It’d be such a shame if all of this had to come to an end just because of a few insignificant, avoidable mistakes.”

Suddenly, your throat went dry, your heart drawing a little too tight in your chest. It'd been happening more than it should, lately, considering how careful Hakamada encouraged you to be with your health. “You’re… This is going to end?”

He always seemed to enjoy it, when you said things like that. Maybe it was your tone, the softened desperation you didn’t try to hide, or maybe he took it as a confession, a sign that you cared for him, or that you cared for what he could provide, at least. You hoped it was the latter. He liked it when you were desperate, and you liked to pretend that he didn’t. “Of course not, dear,” He soothed, his disappointment suddenly gone and replaced with something more assuring, something more sentimental. As sentimental as Hakamada was capable of being, anyway. “I’d sooner lock you up completely than ever let my little muse run off. Besides...” He trailed off, a light chuckle fading into a scoff. “Even if I did lose you, I wouldn’t be able to let you go, not entirely. It wouldn’t be fitting for my partner, past or present, to go back to living in some tiny apartment, struggling to make ends meet. It’d be embarrassing, for both of us, and I don’t know if I’d be able to stand the distance.”

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to. Hakamada was distracted, now, pressing a light kiss into the dip of your shoulder before he pulled away, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit. “We’re already running late. When you’re ready, come find me. I’ll be waiting.”

You didn’t turn around. You heard the door to his bedroom close, his footsteps growing more distant as the seconds ticked by, but you didn’t feel the need to watch him, you didn’t want to see him, his face, how unaffected he was by the doubts that plagued you like some ever-lasting, unshakable waking nightmare. You knew it wasn’t healthy, objectively. You shouldn’t have to wonder if your boyfriend really likes you. You shouldn’t have to practice your smile, lower your voice, contort yourself to fit his standards of perfection, your needs be damned. It wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t even pleasant, but…

He was right. You didn’t go back to the way things used to be. Starving, working yourself to the bone to make rent, letting any Pro-Hero who showed an interest turn you into something soft and toothless and malleable. It was easier to be with Hakamada. It was easier to let him have his way.

It was easier to tell yourself that you’d still be allowed to leave, if you wanted to.

With that in mind, you turned on your heel, starting in the direction he’d gone off in. You would stay. You had to stay.

You wouldn’t know how to be yourself without him, anymore.

[footballfanfictions]

The thrill of the chase - Chapter Two

Pairings: Mason Mount/OC, Ben Chilwell/OC

Authors Note: Sorry that this has taken a little longer than anticipated and thank you so much for all the love for the first part.

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

One of the main drawbacks of working with social media, is that you are always on social media and you’re constantly bombarded with information and images that make you feel downright crap about yourself.

I’d been asked to take over the instagram page of one of the high profile players at the club and his entire feed was just one supermodel and influencer after the other with the odd footballer thrown in to balance it out. They were all so stunning that it truly made me feel awful about myself, how could it not? My salary was pretty good for a new graduate but not quite good enough for weekly manicures, lip fillers and hair extensions and my time management wouldn’t stretch for that either, I barely made my eyebrow wax appointments.

I was trying to avoid looking at the player’s DMs while I posted a few pictures from the pre-season training sessions to his feed, but the notifications pinging every few minutes was getting quite annoying.

Has it been Brianna with access to his account and not me, she would have gone straight to his messages to read them. I preferred to live in blissful ignorance to the sleazy ways of the men around me. I already felt like finding a good guy was absolutely hopeless.

I had been renting a flat and I was saving for a deposit to buy a house, hoping that by the time I had saved up enough to buy that I would have found the right person to live with. If I were to attempt this alone, with London house prices I would be around  60 by the time I had saved enough alone.

The message notifications continued to come in and whoever Sam was, she was really keen.

I logged out after posting the final image and prayed I wouldn’t have to go into it again. The less I knew about their private lives, the better. It would be pretty awkward to be sat in the staff and players’ family box at a game knowing that the wife of someone I knew was cheating was close by. Best to steer clear of those complications.

Brianna hadn’t visited my office at all and by 12 I was both worried and hungry and decided to go looking for her.

I tried the kit room first but it was empty and surprisingly tidy. Dave kept a tight ship and liked everything to be in its place but it wasn’t often possible with the sheer volume of kits that needed to be looked after.

As I backed out of the kit room and closed the door, I felt something hit me in the back.

“Sorry” mumbled the voice from behind me. “I was looking for Dave, I need a new top.”

I knew who it was but I didn’t really want to turn around and look at him.

“They’re not in there, I was just looking for him and Brianna too.” I responded in an emotionless tone, shrugging.

“Why are you being so weird?” he asked.

I turned to face him then and gave him a look of contempt before I answered him. “Maybe I just don’t enjoy spending time around footballers?”

“No offence love, but I think you might be in the wrong job if that is the case.” he put his hand on the door, next to my head where I was practically pinned against the door by how close he was to me. Only then did I realise that the training top that he was wearing was ripped, front he shoulder to his navel, the material hanging and exposing his toned chest and abs. I tried to look away but he had caught me looking and was now smirking.

“Maybe it’s just you that puts me off.” I shrugged as I ducked under his arm, escaping from my position between him and the door.

“You really don’t like me?” He huffed. “I don’t remember doing anything to offend you personally.”

“Maybe I’m offended that privileged young lads get money, fame and praise just for kicking a ball around a muddy field. Try something more impressive, like curing cancer or performing life saving surgery, ending world hunger, ending wars.” I groaned in frustration. Maybe that was the truth of it. Why should he get all the praise and admiration that he got, just for playing a sport? There were so many incredible people in the world doing, or working towards the things in that list that never got half the praise that Mason Mount did for kicking a ball.

He looked a bit dumb struck.

I went in again, “Maybe I don’t like you assuming that I should be into you, just because you’re Mason Mount, England and Chelsea midfielder. Maybe that’s what the girls in the club that throw themselves at your feet are into, but it’s not for me.”

I made to leave and he grabbed my hand and mumbled, “Sorry, I’ll leave you alone from now on.”

I didn’t respond. Just pulled my hand from his and stormed off towards the boot room, leaving him outside of the kit room in his ripped shirt.

“Fuck it smells like feet in here.” I complained, walking into the boot room with my nose pinched between my fingers in disgust.

“When I said that I liked shoes to dad, this is not what I meant.” Brianna laughed.

“What are you doing in here, I didn’t think boots were part of your job?” I asked, perching on one of the benches while Bri sat on the floor, sorting through a massive pile of boots to try and match up the pairs. They were in all sorts of bright colours and differing sizes. If I had to guess, I’d guess that she had been at her task for hours.

“Dad and the boot guy had some sort of emergency” she shrugged.

I laughed at that, wondering what kind of emergency you could have that involved kits and boots. Maybe they hadn’t ordered the right brand or something and one of the stars wasn’t going to get his cash from his boot deal if they didn’t find him the right pair.

There was a little tap on the sliding glass door that lead out onto the pitches and stood there was the guy from the other day that had held the door to the cafeteria open for us. He looked a little sheepish.

“Are you going to let him in?” I asked Bri, trying to unbury her from the pile of boots by throwing some of them into a pile, all of the orange ones in one corner, the yellow in another pile and pink in another and so on.

“Oh yeah.” she said, standing and brushing herself off, and adjusting her skirt that rode up her thighs slightly. The guy had noticed and I watched as he tried to look away and then down at his feet. At first I hadn’t thought that his shyness was that genuine. Footballers were all confident cocky little shits in my book, I’d never met one that was shy and unsure of himself.

Bri unlocked the door and let him in.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but only one of these fits” he said, holding up a pair of lime green boots and giving Bri an apologetic smile.

“Oh shit” she said, taking the pair from him and inspecting them. “I’ve given you one 10 and one 9.5.” she looked through the pile of lime green boots until she said “aha!” triumphantly brandishing another size 10 boot. “Here you go my love.”

That as just Bri’s way, she called everyone little pet names all the time, but he didn’t know that and he was blushing profusely and I was almost certain that his hands were shaking as he laced the boots up.

“Thank you so much.” he mumbled, looking like he was about to die of embarrassment. He turned to walk back out of the sliding door, but hadn’t realised that Bri had shut it behind him, so he ended up walking straight into the glass, hitting it with enough force to emmit a cracking noise from his nose which was suddenly streaming with blood.

I jumped up from my seat and crossed the room to him, avoiding the piles of boots the best that I could, not wanting to add myself to the casualty list.

I had an unused tissue in my pocket, that I took out and pressed to his nose. It was instantly bright red and the blood poured straight through it.

“Bri can you go and warn the medical room that we need to bring him down?” I asked.

She nodded in agreement and rushed out of the room.

I put my arm around his waist and guided him back over to the benches. He sat down and I slipped my cardigan off. It was a very thin material and already a deep shade of red. I didn’t let him protest as I replaced the tissue with my cardigan. It was the best that we had, and he looked like he was in a lot of pain.

“I’ve never seen anyone get that flustered before.” i laughed, sitting down beside him. He managed to give me a pained grin.

‘It’s Bri isn’t it? Is she why you were waiting by the canteen door the other day?” I asked gently, patting him reassuringly on the back. “I wanted to send her out of the room so that I could ask you, and also to reassure you that you shouldn’t be embarrassed about this. I’ve seen Bri do a lot more embarrassing things. She’s always falling over and hurting herself. You would make quite the pair.” I laughed.

He shook his head and mumbled “I can’t ask her out”.

“Why the hell not?” i scoffed.

“She has a boyfriend doesn’t she?” he shrugged, looking really sombre.

“Ah no, not anymore. Things are definitely over between her and that prick, and between you and me, if she ever gets back together with him, I’ll give her a matching broken nose.” I bumped shoulders with his, trying to cheer him up, just as Bri came back into the room and told us that the medical room were waiting for him.

“Can you come with me?” he asked, not talking to Bri, but to me instead.

“Sure, I would do anything to get out of work this afternoon. Our twitter page today is just full of fans that are disappointed that we didn’t use the Hazard money to sign Messi.” I laughed, getting up and guiding him towards the door.

“Can we catch up later?” I asked Bri before leaving the room, she nodded and told me she would be free all evening.

As we walked down the corridor I said to him “See, no plans to see a boyfriend” and he blushed again.

One of the medical assistants rushed out to meet us and guided him into the room exclaiming “Billy, what the hell? How have you done that?”

He shrugged, clearly feeling embarrassed about how he had injured himself. So when they looked over at me for clarification, I shrugged too.

Billy wasn’t the only player needing the use of the treatment room. As he sat down on one of the chairs, I noticed that Ben was in there too.

The medic went about dabbing Billy’s nose and he cried out in pain.

“Sorry about your cardigan.” he said, looking down at the red material on his lap. He didn’t need it now that he was getting patched up.

“Honestly don’t worry about it Billy.” I grinned.

The medic then mumbled something about needing something and left the room.

That gave Billy a bit more confidence to talk about what had happened.

“And thank you for the advice about your friend.” Billy seemed a bit happier as he said that, and I could see Ben out of the corner of my eye looking over at us as Billy spoke.

“Please tell me you’re going to ask her out!” Ben laughed.

I turned to look at him and smiled. “You know?”

Ben nodded and looked at Billy with a horrified expression “Oh god, you asked her out and she punched you.”

I shook my head. “Not exactly.” I said.

“The boyfriend was here for some reason, and he punched you?’ Ben went on, standing up and coming over to Billy. He walked with a slight limp.

He stood in between us.

“Why are you in here if you don’t mind me asking?” I looked down at his leg while asking the question.

“It’s my hamstring, nothing too serious.” He smiled.

“Don’t laugh at me when I tell you how I did this.” Billy warned, pointing at his nose. “I walked into a sliding glass door that I thought was open, all because she gave me a pair of boots and called me love.” he groaned, covering his face in embarrassment.

Ben laughed and clapped Billy on the back with his hand. “Oh mate, no wonder you’re embarrassed.” he then addressed me, asking “Just how cringy was it?”

I shook my head before answering him, “I honestly don’t think it was that bad. Bri is pretty oblivious sometimes and I don’t actually think she realised the real reason for you hurting yourself. So if you were to pluck up the courage to speak to her, I wouldn’t even bring it up.”

_________________________________________________________

The next day, I was looking out at the training pitches while I waited for the coffee machine to finish making my drink when there was a gentle tap on my door.

I crossed the room and opened it, expecting it to Bri or maybe even the club photographer giving me some new pictures of the squad to use, but it was Ben.

“Hi, are you free?” he asked, giving me one of his sweet smiles.

“Yeah come in.” I said, stepping back into my office and letting him pass me so that I could hold the door open.

“That coffee smells nice”. He remarked.

“Do you want one? Or did I put you off the other day?” I smiled.

“Ah no thanks, and no you didn’t put me off. I’ve never really liked the stuff. I like the smell of coffee, it just doesn’t taste as good as it smells.” as he spoke I realised that he was holding something in a plastic bag.

He realised that I was looking at it. “It’s your cardigan. I washed it for you at home. Think I got all the blood out but it’s red so I can’t really tell.”

I was for once, speechless. It was a small gesture but it was really kind all the same. I thought about making a witty remark about it actually being his mother or an employed cleaner that washed it for him but I just couldn’t bring myself to.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that. It’s only an old primark cardigan.” I said, taking the bag from him.

I suddenly felt a bit flustered in his company. He had that charming smile and didn’t really look like a cocky footballer to me. He didn’t act like one much either, he was just kind of like the guy next door, or the guy you would see on Tinder with a picture of him with his mates at the only photo on the profile so you couldn’t tell which one you were swiping for.

In all honesty, he kind of reminded me of my ex boyfriend Rory. He had the same sort of look, and they had similar accents. Maybe it was nostalgia that made me find being around Ben comforting.

‘I think your coffee is done.” he said, gesturing to the machine.

I nodded and walked over to the machine, taking the cup and adding some creamer and sugar. As I stirred the cup, he leant against my desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Something is bothering me if I’m honest.” he said.

“What is it?” I asked curiously.

“Mason said that you told him that you hate all footballers because we’re privileged and get too much clout for what we do.” He looked slightly disappointed in me. “Thing is, I don’t entirely disagree with you. Maybe we do get paid too much for what we do, and maybe doctors and nurses deserve way more praise than we do. I also don’t think that you hate all footballers. You were really kind to Blly yesterday and he won’t forget that in a hurry. You really helped him.” he continued.

“I don’t hate Billy, and I don’t think I hate you either.” I said quietly, taking a sip of my coffee.

“That is interesting.” he grinned, as he took one of my hands and guided me over to him, to stand in between his legs where he now sat on the edge of my desk.

Instinctively I put my coffee cup down and he put his arms around my waist.

“It’s interesting?-” he cut me off before I could say anything else, by pressing his lips against mine. The kiss is soft and gentle and lasts only a few seconds. He testing me and my brain is going in so many different directions. Am I actually going back on all of my principles and kissing a fucking footballer right now? And am I only doing it because he reminds me of my ex?

He moves to pull away, breaking the contact between our lips and I let out the tiniest whimper before putting my hand on the back of his head and pulling him back in for more. This time his tongue slips past my parted lips. My hand at the back of his head grips a generous handful of his hair and one of his hands makes its way to my bum.

My body feels like it is on fire. It has been a bloody long time since anyone kissed or touched me, and I hadn’t quite realised just how starved of affection I had been until I got a taste of it, a taste of him.

The telephone on my desk started to ring,and although I tried to ignore it, I just couldn’t. My job meant a lot to me and if it were Marina or someone of equal importance I would be chastised for missing the call.

We broke the kiss at the same time and I apologised to him. He grinned and fired back that I didn’t need to apologise and that he needed to get back to training, and by the time I picked up the phone, he was gone.