#..........fuck it whatever I fixed it now

[serpentinegraphite]

While there are varying factors behind EFT in general and as a recent trend, i can at least highlight one factor in why it's so fucking prevalent in American healthcare (and presumably other industries): outsourcing.

A lot of healthcare facilities don't really do their own billing anymore? They go through a billing company. Sometimes multiple billing companies.

A small private practice has the staff to offer various health-related and perhaps even specialty services. But instead of keeping on regular staff for billing or whatever, they outsource to a company that specializes in medical billing, ostensibly to streamline the process (so that doctors aren't having to train billing staff; billing staff can confer with fellow billing specialists at the big Medical Billing Company and they can all be better at their jobs).

However, several things often happen with outsourcing:

• there's little to no direct communication between the providers and the billing staff. They're not in the same building. They're not at the same company. The billing staff probably don't ever talk to the doctors, possibly even the office manager directly. That's for the Medical Billing Company management to deal with.

• internal communication isn't much better. Billing companies don't like to escalate things to managers. And they don't like when someone doesn't know how to fix a problem. And it's not efficient to take the appropriate amount of time to solve every issue, especially when the employees aren't trained in medical billing or coding or perhaps even in the basics of American healthcare.

• underpaid employees are encouraged (okay, often required) to send the bill to the patient rather than solve the problem. Patients HATE bills. They'll call back and solve the problem.

• internal communication is REALLY bad actually. I was trying to soften the blow before. Sorry. Even when i worked at a comprehensive billing company, they had separate departments for patient calls and back office billing and front office minutiae. We weren't just discouraged from speaking with other departments about a particular issue, it was nigh impossible.

• many aspects of healthcare billing are actually outsourced to different companies! These days in the US, a practice will often outsource the labs to a lab company which may be or have an office in the healthcare facility. (The lab also, separately, outsources their billing.) Coding, billing, and patient calls are often outsourced to separate companies.

• that's already four different departments or even companies (plus the healthcare facility) for tasks that used to take place in the same building.

• those billing companies? Might also be subtly or overtly outsourcing some of their work too.

So, to recap: the front desk books your appointment. You get, let's say, uh some kind of blood test done (separate bill, separate company). The doctor checks you over. Then jots down some notes on your chart and maybe some basic deets for billing purposes.

Someone else, perhaps a doctor or nurse or certified coder (perhaps outsourced! though there is more liability in this step so that's less common) has to put in the billing information and the relevant medical codes.

That information goes to your insurance company (which definitely outsources everything they can't automate).

Then, it doesn't go back to your doctor. It goes to the billing department (outsourced), which isn't paid well enough to spend more than 5 minutes on your issue. They bill the patient because they're being timed down to the click on every claim.

You, the patient, now have to figure out a) which billing department you need (labs or surgery or just the doctor's visit), b) what the issue is (no one in the chain will give you more information than the automated denial), c) how to fix the issue (what's a prior authorization and since when is the patient responsible for it?), and d) who else to call because the first number you try is never right. Even if you do everything right, sometimes the phone tree will misdirect you. Sometimes you get a disgruntled employee on the first try.

This is both cheaper and more efficient. :) allegedly. :)

I think this is just a trend everywhere but I've been very frustrated this week by how much admin work is being outsourced to me as the patient/customer.

My orthodontist tells me I can make an appointment with the surgeon. I call the surgeon. They tell me I need a new referral. I call the orthodontist. They do a referral. I call the surgeon. Referral didn't come through. They tell me about their special unique system we have to use. I call the ortho again and walk them through the referral. I call the surgeon. They say the referral was missing some details so they have to do it again. I call the ortho.

The insurance company calls me about repair shops. I give them the name of the repair shop which I already gave them yesterday. They say they're not in their system but I can use them, but I have to call the repair shop to ask them to contact the insurance company. I call the repair shop and they say the insurance company is supposed to email them.

I feel like at a certain point these constant fetch quests become unreasonable?? Is it too much to expect these groups to communicate with each other instead of making me run back and forth between them???

[pinkiebieberpie]

YESSS THE PEOPLE WANT FARMER BUCKY !!!!

OH MY MY MY ઇઉ

(singledad!farmer!bucky x f!reader)

i'm happy to give the people what they want <33 i'm not much of a writer and it's more of a longer blurb/a few scenerios put in one longer post, but if you want to you can check my fic masterlist // inspired by this moodboard, enjoy!! reblogs and feedback is appreciated <33 (and yes the title is taylor swift coded, if you know you know.) ++ @bstorn wanted to be tagged.

words: 1.5k

warnings: death (mentioned), age gap (reader is in her mid 20s, bucky is in his early 40s), mention of drinking, mention of hair pulling, smut, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, outside sex (fuck being quiet, they are sleeping), unprotected sex, cockwarming and creampie (but also not really??? but it is here???)

life is messy. y/n's was actually very messy that's why she decided to move, leave her old life behind and change everything. how did she end up in a small town in the middle of texas? nobody knows, but she was there alone.

the first month was the hardest, she found a new job in a bakery, made a friend - her coworker, jessie but there was not really much to do, calm town, everyone knew each other, basically no privacy. after that first month y/n met bucky, a single father of two, a farmer and big enthusiast of chocolate cookies they were selling at the bakery. was he flirty? maybe. was he friendly? 100%.

it all started innocent.

"hi, i'm bucky, you new in town?"

"how do you like it here?"

"if you need any help feel free to reach out."

and y/n in fact did reach out, cause she needed help when her apartmet flooded. it was out of the blue the next day when bucky came to the bakery, but he was more than happy to help. that day y/n and bucky get to know each other a little bit more. she found out he has two daughters, annie (4 years old) and bea (6 years old), he owns one of the biggest farms in town and it's in his family since... forever, really. she was sure he is married, he was wearing a wedding ring, but that was just a habit - his wife died two years ago in an accident. the conversation was smooth, it was clear that the chemistry was there, but nobody made a move.

"all should be fine now." was what bucky said when he finished fixing y/n's plumbing problem. was she starring at him a bit when he was fixing her sink? yes.

"thank you, really, i had no idea what to do and i don't know that many people here... so i kind of had to ask my friendly neighbourhood customer for help." she chuckled and licked her lip a little bit.

"oh, it's nothing, actually i have a favor to ask, myself... it's okay if you feel like this is too much, but i have to help my friend out of town on the weekend, he has some problems with his animals and i can't leave girls alone, could you babysit? i can pay!"

"what? babysit? i- i never did that, but if your daughters are even half as kind as you, i bet they are angels, so yeah, i can do that, i'm not working over the weekend, you don't have to worry. and you don't have to pay me, it's favor for a favor."

was it a bit weird and a bit fast? for some people maybe, but both of them really felt like they could've trust each other. and that's how y/n became a babysitter for annie and bea. the girls were little angels, that was true. it became a thing that y/n was coming over to play with them and watch them, when bucky was working or when he was busy with whatever he needed to do. girls adored her. she baked cookies with them, they played outside together, she loved reading books with annie and bea and they loved to listen to them.

one night bucky came home really late, the girls were sleeping and y/n fell asleep on the couch too. closing the door woke her up and looked at bucky all sleepy.

"huh? you are home? i better pack my thin-"

"are you crazy? it's 3am, you are staying here, i will drive you home in the morning." he said it with a tone that left no place for arguing. she was a bit turned on by his voice, but no way she would ever tell bucky that. they were friends. only friends, with a weird chemistry, but still friends... but are you really friends when it's 3am and you are sitting on a couch with a man so much older, talking about life, drinking and being really and i mean really comfortable with each other?

that night went peaceful and quietly, in the morning bucky made breakfast for all three of the girls and when his kids were ready all four of them left his farm. first bucky and y/n dropped annie and bea at their preschool and then they made their way to y/n's house.

"you know, they adore you." bucky said while he way driving. y/n felt her cheeks getting a bit more pinkish. and she had no idea why, it was a compliment from his daughters, kind of, not from him. but at this point she knew she was falling for this man and there was nothing she could do about it.

✧✧✧

a few months passed and everything was going great for both bucky and y/n. they were meeting almost every weekend and more than one time during the work week. one day bucky invided her to a picnic at his farm, but... it was only two of them. the girls visited their grandma, and the truth was bucky wanted to spend some time alone with his... friend? his who? that was maybe a little bit more complicated than he wanted it to be. farmer was thinking about her all the time and he was ready to make things official. he wasn't in a relationship since his wife passed and that was over two years ago! he deserved to be happy.

when bucky asked y/n to be his girlfriend she was speachless, cause of course she wanted it, she wanted it bad. she wanted him bad, to be honest. soon she found out bucky wasn't always that sweet and caring man everyone thought he was. he was a very typical girl dad, he was making breakfast for his kids every morning, doing their hair, but he was also that type of man to pull your hair very hard when you were alone. and y/n loved it. every second of it.

their relationship was perfect, y/n loved waking up next to him almost every morning, she moved in really quickly. it wasn't even strange for the girl, they accepted it, after all annie and bea loved having y/n around.

one night y/n and bucky put the girls to bed earlier, because they planned a dinner. bucky cooked and prepared everything and all y/n had to do was to just look pretty when everything was ready.

"god, angel, you look stunning." was what bucky said when he saw y/n in her short, black dress. they ate their dinner, had some red wine and since it was warm summer they left home to sit outside. the moon looked marvelous and y/n looked even more beautiful in it's light.

it didn't took much for bucky to start kissing her. first her lips, then her neck, her exposed cleavage. y/n started breathing faster and then he dropped on his knees and rolled her dress up. first he was kissing y/n's thighs, then his lips were on her already wet panties. her noises were getting louder, then bucky took off her underwear. his lips were soft at first, teasing her, but when she buckled up her hips to him that was a sign he had no idea he was waiting for. bucky's tounge was making her more and more wet and she was only getting louder. her hands ended up in his long hair, pulling them hard when he added fingers to his ministrations.

"c'mon sweetie, you are making really cute noises, but you can be louder than that... girls are sleeping inside you can be as loud as you can." he hummed, his lips still so close to your aching pussy. it was hard being quiet with this man, he was making y/n feel like she was floating with his fingers and tounge alone. after her first orgasm they moved to their bedroom. they ended up naked a second after the door closed behind them. lips and hands were everywhere. their bodies so close, lots of moans and gasps. it was a perfect mix between soft love making and rough fucking and it made y/n lost her mind. at some point bucky covered her mouth.

"shh... we are not outside anymore, girls are sleeping next door, you have to be quiet now, doll." he whispered into her ear as he bit it. he was moving inside her with a steady rythm. her hands were on his back, nails in his skin leaving marks, it wasn't long before y/n finished again. when bucky wanted to move she wrapped her legs around him.

"no, please, i want to feel you..." she purred in the croock of his neck. he hapilly obliged. and that's how they both fell asleep. bodies tangled together, their breaths steady and calm and the whole life ahead of them. maybe with more than just two kids in the future...

[skibasyndrome]

"please, speak to me" for the prompt thingy?🫶

Tinaaaa!!! Thank you so much for sending me this prompt! I'm extremely sorry for taking forever to write this, but here it iiiis.

Because I simply couldn't leave them in their messy little fwb situation, this is a follow-up to this drabble here.

Hope you'll enjoy! 💜💜💜

For the first couple of days, Wille is so caught up in replaying his last night with Simon that he doesn’t fully notice to which extent he’s being avoided. When he does, the realization hits him square in the chest.

Wille doesn’t think that, during the admittedly relatively short time they’ve known each other, he’s ever gone this long without speaking to Simon. They just clicked, right away, became friendly very quickly, became… more than friendly equally quickly. And up till now they’ve never gone this long without speaking, at least a little bit. Wille misses his friend’s presence next to him during the one lecture on postmodernism they normally attend together. And he misses the stupid jokes they tell each other in the cafeteria during lunch breaks. Wille texts Simon twice during the week following the incident. Both times, Simon answers quickly, but the conversations die down just as quickly. Wille knows he’s busy with exams, but this is different. Simon won’t admit that anything’s wrong, continues to throw Wille a quick smile every time they cross paths on campus. But before Wille has the chance to approach him, he’s gone again. It feels like something ended between them. And Wille doesn’t know what to do about it, let alone what to say. He can’t suggest they have sex again. Well. He would like to, but he won’t. Every time he thinks back to Simon storming off, he feels like an idiot. But any other suggestion feels almost more ridiculous. He can almost hear Simon scoff at him whenever he thinks of something new to say. They’ve never done anything else, they’ve been friendly at uni, then spent their time back in the dorms fucking. Anything beyond that feels like an imposition. In front of his mind’s eye, Simon is rolling his eyes and shaking his head at Wille’s suggestion for brunch on Sunday or a couple drinks Thursday night. And so he keeps them to himself, his silly suggestions. But by week two, Wille feels like he’s going to burst if he lets the scenario play out inside of his head another fucking time. He needs to figure this out, needs to fix whatever there is to fix. Right whatever wrong it was that Wille did. Even if this arrangement, whatever it was, is over for Simon, Wille wants them to part on good terms. And not have Simon think badly of him. He feels more than a little silly as he finds himself walking through the halls of the music lecture building. And even while he’s waiting outside of the room he knows Simon’s choir is practicing in, he almost gets up and leaves again two times. Scrolling on his phone is barely enough of a distraction. Especially when, from time to time, a few beautiful notes hit his ear, coming through the large door. This would be a lot easier if he didn’t immediately recognize the beautiful voice. or Or if he didn’t remember what other beautiful sounds that voice is capable of producing, under the right conditions. 

He clears his throat and rolls his neck, trying to banish those tempting images from his mind. He’s about to give up and leave again, go for a walk or go find something else to distract him from his own misery, when the door opens and a couple of students start streaming out. Wille immediately gets up from the random chair he’s found sitting in the hallway, straightens up, feeling weirdly caught and weirdly out of place. Before he can wonder if Simon will even notice him standing in the hallway like a lost little puppy, the door closes again. It leaves Wille standing face to face with the man he hasn’t gotten a proper look at in a very long two weeks. Wille raises his hand for an awkward wave and notices too late that he clearly must’ve interrupted a conversation between Simon and his choir teacher, who now looks between the two of them, visibly confused. Even she must notice that this amount of silence isn’t very normal. Giving Wille another once-over, she retrieves her key from where she was about to lock the door and hands it over to Simon. She tells him to leave it on her desk later before walking off. For a gratingly long moment it looks like Simon is about to run after her. When he turns back around to Wille he looks a little less panicked, albeit no less confused. His bag is casually slung over his shoulder, and something inside of Wille’s chest aches at the familiar picture. Instead of dwelling on it, though, he shakes his head slightly, takes a step towards Simon. “Hey,” he starts and tries to smile, but it must be coming off exactly as weird and forced as it feels, because Simon only nods at him. “Hey.” Simon’s own smile is late, seems a little out of place. Maybe there’s still time to run away. But when Simon opens his mouth to speak, a different sense of panic washes over Wille, so he simply has to blurt it out. “I wanted to see you.” The silence that follows Wille’s confession is clearly taunting him. Simon just looks at him with his brows furrowed. “And I wanted to talk to you,” Wille continues, and maybe it’s the way Simon’s gaze darts back and forth between Wille’s lips and his eyes that makes Wille go on.  “Because I missed you,” he says. And because he’s not made enough of a fool of himself.  “Miss you, I mean.” Simon only nods quickly and, for a second, Wille gets caught up in his eyes. It's been entirely too long since he’s gotten a proper look at them. If Wille didn’t know any better, the idea that he’s spent hours looking at them before would sound ridiculous.

Simon is the first to break contact. He clears his throat. “So…?” he starts, then trails off, lifting himself up and down on his tiptoes. “Can we talk?” Wille is practically pleading and, as if on cue, a student pushes his way past, apparently seeing no better path than going between him and Simon. “I mean, maybe…” Wille gestures towards the room and Simon catches his hint. He gives a curt nod, one that Wille can’t read. But he does turn around, and not to leave. He slips in through the door, Wille at his heels. And before Wille has any chance to take in the interior of the room, or think about what the fuck he’s supposed to do now, now that he’s gotten to this point, Simon is on him. Wille's back hits the door with a loud thud, his chest immediately colliding with Simon's. He lets out a strangles sound of surprise when he suddenly has an arm full of Simon. But even his moment of shock is cut short when Simon’s lips are on his. Finally again. Wille quickly melts into the touch, relishes in the way Simon licks into his mouth, almost like he's been plagued by the same desperate need that has rendered Wille sleepless for these past two weeks. Wille's arms close around Simon's middle, backpack and all, and Wille lets out a sigh of… something. Relief, probably, but also pleasure. This is what they're good at, this is a way in which they've always understood each other. This is what makes sense for them. So much sense that Simon has Wille heavily panting against his lips in no time, so much sense that Wille’s hands easily find their way into the back pockets of Simon’s jeans, like they’re two puzzle pieces. So much sense that it takes Wille a long time, many seconds, minutes maybe, to realize that this isn’t what he came for. Not really, not initially. He tries to pull back, not going far with the wood of the door right behind him. But Simon understands, moves back, then takes a big step away from Wille that causes Wille’s hands to slip out of his pockets. He weakly holds them at his side, suddenly feeling really awkward about just standing here. He clears his throat. “I…” It’s like Simon didn’t only take away his breath, but also his speech. Wille tears his eyes from Simon’s face, from the soft reddish hue on his cheeks, from his wet lips. “I wanted to talk about last time, what you said. I-” Simon interrupts him with a groan. “Can’t we just forget about this already?” He sounds frustrated, angry almost, but there’s a trace of desperation. Wille swallows hard, very unhelpfully notices Simon’s taste on his tongue. While every bone in Wille’s body is yearning to just get back to what they were doing, to get back to what’s always felt good, he knows he shouldn’t. Not like this. Not until he’s tried, not until-

Simon groans loudly again and moves towards the handle, trying to get past Wille. His rib cage contracts painfully at the sight, and his last resolve crumbles. “Wait, please, wait, Simon,” he tries, quietly, too quietly, but, fuck, how else is he supposed to say this. Without thinking about it, he goes in for Simon’s wrist, grabs it, squeezes once, then lets go again, suddenly terrified he’s making it worse. He back away from the door, stops blocking it. “I’m sorry, Simon, I don’t-” “Don’t say it,” Simon rushes out. As quickly as he reached for the door, he’s taking a few steps back again. Wille opens and closes his mouth again, entirely helpless. He’s not fucking following. He shakes his head, trying to make sense of it all. “But what you said then, and when you left-” “It doesn’t matter, okay?” Simon is pacing, and there’s too much distance between them for Wille’s liking, way too much. But he doesn’t want to reach out, doesn’t want to overstep, but, fuck he needs to fix this, he needs to understand, he needs Simon to tell him. He can’t keep wondering if maybe, just maybe…. When Simon stops pacing only to go for the door again, it bursts out of Wille. “Please, just speak to me!” He startles himself with his raised voice, and Simon stops dead in his tracks, head whipping around towards Wille. It’s Simon’s turn to gape at him, speechless.

He juts out his chin in defiance and crosses his arms. Wille’s heartbeat quickens when Simon turns towards him again. There’s a fire in his eyes that makes Wille feel like Simon is the one towering over him. For another few seconds, they just stare at each other, neither willing to be the first to break contact. It’s scary, tense, like any wrong move could shatter everything. Wille decides then and there that he’ll keep this up for hours if he has to, if it means that Simon isn’t going to run away again. But it seems like Simon has different plans. With a long, exasperated sigh, he turns away again. Wille watched his shoulders sag, watches him throw his head back in frustration. When he runs a hand up and through his curls, a silly part of Wille’s conscience wishes he could be the one doing that. “Look,” Simon starts, and Wille steels himself for whatever revelation might be coming his way. His eyes never leave Simon’s face, still. “I’m sorry, okay?” Wille feels his face fall. “I’m sorry that this isn’t what we wanted, I’m sorry that I said what I said, I just-” Simon tugs on his hair again and lets out a frustrated noise. “It’s okay,” he says, and suddenly all the fierceness drains out of his voice. When he twists his head to look back towards Wille, Wille’s pulse yet again picks up speed.

“It’s okay that you don’t want the same thing, it is!” Wille has trouble listening with his heartbeat hammering away at his temples. “We can keep doing this,” Simon gestures between the two of them ”I’ll be fine, I swear, can we just not talk about-” Suddenly, it clicks. Oh. “Stop,” Wille says, quietly, carefully, and it must be such a stark difference in tone that it’s unsettling. Simon immediately quiets down, enough for Wille to take a step towards him. To finally close the distance between them. Wille doesn’t think his pulse has ever been this quick without him nearing a panic attack. Once again, he swallows. “You’re saying that you… like me?” Simon presses his eyes shut, lets his head fall back in a movement of aggravation. “Wille…,” he groans, but there’s no edge to his voice, no hostility. He rolls his head back, looks pained, but he doesn’t withdraw, stays where he is. “Yes, I like you. That’s the whole point, that’s why-” Oh. Wille doesn’t waste another second, doesn’t give Simon any more time to misunderstand him. With a fervor that’s entirely new in its intensity, he rushes forward. One hand on Simon’s neck, the other reaching for Simon’s arm, linking their fingers together loosely, Wille kisses him. He kisses him and kisses him and lets out a pathetic little noise when Simon presses back after a moment, returns the kiss with equal force. Fuck. Wille can’t keep it in any longer. A wave of relief washes over him, strong, intense, warm, just like Simon. Wille giggles into their kiss, breaks away from Simon’s lips. When he does, he doesn’t pull away, rests his forehead against Simon’s. And he simply can’t hold back his stupid grin. “I like you too,” he says and fuck, that feels a lot like butterflies. “A lot.”

Send me one of these prompts for a short lil story 💜

[evelyns-envy]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ switch daisuke!

overview - who knew pulling on daisuke's hair could make him so... different??

warnings - SMUTTTT. unprotected p in v, breeding kink kinda, hair pulling, dai being a huge switch, use of (y/n), (y/n) not being able to walk afterwards!!

okay so hear me out here...

we all know daisuke is relatively submissive right? okay now imagine you riding him, praising him n shit when you accidentally reach up and pull on his hair.

your nails gliding over his scalp, gently scratching as you tug softly.

bro becomes a whole new man istg (speaking from experience ;))

his eyes roll back in his head, and those pretty noises of his turn from his usual whimpers and babbles of nonsense into the deepest groan you've ever heard him make.

his hands are now resting on your waist, fingers digging into the skin as she helps you bounce harder.

your hips stutter for a moment, eyes widening at this new sensation.

"aughnn.. so fuckin' good (y/n).. ridin' me like a damn cowgirl- fuck. keep going."

bro NEVER talks like this

is usually dying laughing whenever he tries to dirty talk to you but whatever tf you js did to his hair made him so insane

instead of js letting you take the reins, he's now meeting your bounces by thrusting into you whenever you come back down

euphoric noises from you both

(swansea needs his help fixing smth but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard those.. uh... sounds.!)

for the first time EVER, you finish before him, and his pupils widen at the sight of your cum all over his dick

he's still guiding your hips through your climax tho (where tf did he learn ts)

once you've come back from seeing STARS, he flips you both over

you did NOT know he had that kinda strength

daisuke is now above you, hand holding the headboard and the other groping one of your tits (hes a tits guy fuck off)

hickeys all over your neck

"dai- mmnn- slow down jesus-"

to NO avail

if anything your whines make him go faster

"gonna let me put a baby in 'ya? hmm? nghhh- feel so fuckin' good baby."

he's NEVER talked abt breeding or anything WHAT is happening

"yes- yes! please.. gimme a baby dai-!"

you whine and whimper under him, roles being entirely reversed

his thrusts grow uneven and his breath ragged as he finally finishes

you can feel his cum pouring into you (holy shit.)

once he's back to reality, he slowly pulls out of you in order to now overstimulate you anymore than you already were

he flops down next to you, laying on his back with his arm behind his head

you're still panting, head thrown back into the pillow

"where the fuck did that come from?"

you whisper, looking over at him only to be met with those pretty brown eyes that you love so very much

"no idea. you're really gorgeous though (y/n). like zamn."

"i hate you."

"didn't hate me when i was fucking you senseless."

you smack his arm playfully, resulting in a giggle and more playful banter between you two.

"babe... can you so grab us a towel pakiusap (please)?"

"daisuke. i cannot walk."

"oh yea."

all of that... just from pulling his hair. you gotta start doing that shit more often..!!

(a/n - pakiusap is please in filipino btw (daisuke is filipino and i feel like he’d know some of the language idk)

[sammonroesangel]

Author's Note: AHHHH! I can't believe I'm releasing my first ever fic/headcannon/idk. This isn't the greatest, I kind of wrote it in a short time frame, BUT I hope you guys enjoy it! 🥹

You had been feeling sick for a few days now- massive headaches, exhaustion that left you wanting to nap every hour, and food aversions, especially to Hayden’s famous blueberry pie (which you used to love). So, like any normal woman whose sex life consisted of making love at like 5 times a week (mainly unprotected recently), you decided to order a few pregnancy tests on Amazon. You told Hayden right away because, let’s be honest, he was the practical one in this situation. He suggested ordering the tests online to avoid awkward run-ins with nosy neighbors or paparazzi. Living on a secluded farm had its perks, but shipping times weren’t one of them. It took a week for the tests to arrive, during which your suspicions grew stronger thanks to the morning sickness that hit you like clockwork every day. When the package finally arrived, he trudged through the fresh snow, retrieved it, and brought it straight to you. "Here you go, sweetheart," he said with a soft smile, though you could tell he was holding back his own nervous excitement. You grabbed a test and ran to the bathroom. Hayden paced outside the door, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. When the result showed positive, you walked out, teary-eyed and smiling, and showed him the test. His face lit up as he hugged you tightly, kissing your forehead. "We're having a baby," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. From that moment on, he was completely in dad mode.

================================================

Pregnancy brought out a whole new side of Hayden. He flat-out banned you from cooking. "You’re growing a whole human. The least I can do is handle dinner," he’d say, gently nudging you away from the kitchen. And it wasn’t just meals—Hayden insisted on taking over most of the chores, leaving you to rest and focus on the baby.

When it came to cravings, Hayden was an absolute champion. Wake up at 2 AM wanting cheese pizza and chocolate-covered pickles? No problem—he was on it without a second thought, even if it meant a midnight run into town. If you craved something else while he was already making dinner, he’d simply adjust. "Don't worry about it," he’d say, kissing your temple. "I’ll save this for later and make whatever you want."

================================================

Hayden quickly learned that pregnancy mood swings were no joke. One minute, you’d be laughing at something silly he said, and the next, you’d be crying because he was burnt to a fucking crisp in a movie he was in 20 years ago. One evening, you were in the kitchen crying over a broken cookie. “It was perfect,” you sniffled, holding up the two halves like they were shattered glass. Hayden walked in, took one look at the situation, and gently plucked the cookie from your hands.

“Sweetheart, it’s still going to taste the same,” he said softly, taking a bite and offering you the other half. You glared at him through your tears but took the piece anyway, pouting.

“It’s not about the cookie,” you mumbled, and he nodded, letting you vent about how everything felt overwhelming lately. He didn’t try to fix it; he just listened, rubbing soothing circles on your back until you calmed down.

Another time, you got unreasonably mad at him for finishing the last of the orange juice, even though he didn’t realize you wanted it. “You’re supposed to know these things!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms. Instead of arguing, Hayden raised his hands in surrender. “You’re right. I should’ve asked before drinking it. I’ll go get more right now.”

You felt guilty the moment the words left your mouth and tried to stop him, but Hayden just kissed your forehead. “It’s okay. I’ll be back in ten minutes,” he said, grabbing his coat. True to his word, he returned with not one but three cartons of orange juice. “Just in case,” he teased, earning a laugh from you despite yourself. Hayden also became an expert at reading your moods. If you seemed cranky, he’d quietly bring you a snack or run you a bath. If you were teary-eyed, he’d snuggle up with you on the couch and let you cry into his chest while he stroked your hair. He never made you feel bad for the rollercoaster of emotions—you were carrying his baby, after all.

“Your body’s doing something incredible,” he told you one night after a particularly emotional day. “I’ll take a few mood swings over what you’re going through any day.”

================================================As your pregnancy progressed and your body continued to change, it wasn’t always easy to feel confident. There were moments when you’d catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and struggle to recognize the reflection staring back. The swollen ankles, the stretch marks, the way your clothes no longer fit quite right—it all felt overwhelming at times.

One evening, after a long day, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, examining the curve of your belly and the way your favorite dress stretched tightly across your body. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the insecurities crept in. Hayden found you like that, staring silently at your reflection, and he instantly knew something was wrong.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping into the room. “What’s going on?”

You hesitated, trying to brush it off, but the lump in your throat made it hard to speak. Finally, you mumbled, “I just… I don’t feel like myself anymore. I feel huge and uncomfortable, and I don’t even look good in anything anymore.”

Hayden’s expression softened as he moved closer, wrapping his arms gently around you from behind. He rested his chin on your shoulder, looking at your reflection in the mirror with you. “Sweetheart, you’re growing our baby,” he said, his voice full of awe and love. “You’re doing something so amazing, and I wish you could see how beautiful you are to me.”

You sniffled, leaning into his embrace. “I don’t feel beautiful.”

He turned you around to face him, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “Then let me remind you,” he said firmly but lovingly. “I see the woman I fell in love with, the one who’s giving me the greatest gift I could ever imagine. Your body is changing because it’s creating a little life—a life we made together. That’s incredible.”

He kissed your forehead, then each cheek, and finally your lips, as if sealing his words with his touch. “I know it’s hard to see it right now, but you’re absolutely breathtaking to me. Every curve, every stretch mark, every little change—it’s all a part of this journey, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

His words melted some of your self-doubt, and you found yourself smiling softly. “You always know what to say,” you whispered, resting your hands on his chest.

“That’s because I mean every word,” he replied, pulling you closer. “And if you ever feel this way again, you just come to me, okay? I’ll remind you as many times as you need.”

That night, as you lay in bed, Hayden pulled you close, wrapping his arms protectively around you. His hand rested gently on your belly, where your baby was nestled safe and sound. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back was calming, grounding you in his love and reassurance.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair. “I love everything about you—your strength, your heart, your laugh, and yes, even the way you’ve been stealing my pillows lately.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your insecurities slowly melting away in the warmth of his embrace. “It’s not stealing if I need them,” you teased, feeling lighter than you had in days.

“Fair point,” he chuckled. “Anything you need, you can have. Always.”

As he continued to hold you, Hayden started humming a soft melody—one you recognized as a song he often played on the piano. The sound wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing and full of love. You smiled, closing your eyes, feeling a tiny flutter from your belly as if the baby wanted to join in.

“See?” Hayden whispered, his voice filled with awe. “Even they know how amazing you are.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but this time they weren’t from sadness. They were tears of gratitude, of love, of feeling completely cherished by the man who was not only your partner but your greatest source of strength.

In that moment, you realized something important: no matter how much your body changed, no matter how many ups and downs you faced during this journey, you had Hayden by your side—your anchor, your cheerleader, and the person who would always remind you just how much you were loved.

As sleep began to take over, you whispered back, “I love you, too. More than anything.”

And with that, surrounded by Hayden’s love and the gentle promise of the life you were building together, you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the beautiful family waiting for you both just around the corner.

THE END

================================================OH MY GODDD AHHH YOU MADE IT TO THE END!

[moonshine-nightlight]

Bad Case of Loving You! (I love a werebear hehe)

@snowkissedmonsters thanks! lol i think the story was partially inspired by ur comic about the new neighbors being a werebear and a cheerful witch. not fully the dynamic i ended up with but still a fun one. i enjoyed writing the dialogue for this way too much. chapter 1 is complete but i need to finish more of it before i can think of starting to post it (and finish the incomplete stories i have out there) but its a high contender for one of the next stories i might put out.

“You know what, please don’t—” You run your fingers through your hair and then down your face. “Look, now’s a very bad time.”

There’s a pause where Dion just takes in your defeated expression as you brace yourself for magic lies and cursed flattery like all the—“Okay,” he says with a shrug. He holds something up to the window. “Here’s the book I said I’d get from my sister.” Dion sets it down on the tall planter next to the door when you stare at him blankly, making no move to open the door. He’s not quite scowling, but his brow is furrowed in the way it always gets when he thinks you’re being ridiculous and overdramatic. “Good luck with,” he gestures vaguely in your direction, “whatever’s going on.”

You finally pull yourself together enough to breathe out a sigh of relief. “Thanks.” A close call, if he had started saying anything to close to what he does in your dreams, you’re not sure you’d have been able to stop yourself from pluging your ears and screaming in frustration. “Great.” Then, instead of weirdly milling around near the door, trying to think of some other reason to get to you, Dion turns around and starts walking away. “Wait.” You put your hand on the door, edging it open just enough to stick your head out. Dion turns to look at over his shoulder, frowning. “You’re actually leaving?

“Yes?” Dion turns half way and looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes! But, no, I mean,” You decide to risk opening the door further. Dion makes no move to accost you. Hope starts to rise up within you. “How do you feel today?”

“How do I feel today?” That bored, dry, even tone is finally gone. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Dion’s landed at exasperated with an edge of angry frustration—a common state of being when you were around. He leans to the side and looks behind you to say, “Hane, what’s their problem?” His eyes move back to you. “Did y'all get high on some wizard shit last night? Because if so, I am definitely gonna leave now.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder for emphasis.

“Oh no, you’re not. Get in here.” You can’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders in a half hug. “Thank god you’re immune!”

Dion tries to brush you off with an annoyed growl. “Immune to what, you weirdo.”

You hold onto him as you pull him inside, so relieved by this proof that you hadn’t ruined the whole town. “Thank you!”

Dion looks around bewildered while you cling to him but you don’t even care. At least he’s being normal and you don’t have to hear him come on to you only to have him take it all back once you fix this. You think you’d die. Or at least not be able to face him for a several days. “Someone,” Hane says, looking pointedly at you, “love potion-ed the town.”

“By accident!” you reflexively protest before beaming at Dion, “But you’re good! You’re so perfectly normal.”

[faghubby]

Office Policy

I sat listening to the same old things, Cost cutting, PTO, blah blah. I swear they did this every 6 months. I know I was drifting off. My mind on what to ,ake for diner. When I felt a hand onnmy knee. I quickly jolted back to reality. Mark a younger good-looking guy who worked in Actually I didn't know what he did. His hand slid up my leg. I slapped his hand and made a noise.

"Andrea you had a question?" Maria from HR said stopping her babbling. Embarrassed I came up with.

"I was wondering about how we could" I started when Mark's hand continued up his fingers now running over my panties.

"Solve the vacation issues" I finished as Mark slid even closer to me. Andrea went on to explain how vacation times had been denied last month due to too many people requesting at the same time. I tried not to make a scene and quietly begged Mark to stop.

"What are you doing, stop it" I whisperedgrossly. His reply was to push my dsmp panties aside and pushnhis two fingers into me. My legs I had been pushing together to stop him now parted.

"Stop" I said biting my lip. Mark continued for another ten minutes or so before the meeting came to an end, he quickly just got up and left.

Great just like my husband he didn't finish I got up and made my way to the ladies room. I was so excited, I fixed my panties but I couldn't masterbate not at work. So I relaxed and went to my desk. As soon as I logged in I got an email.

"Meet me in the third floor conference room now" from Mark. I couldn't I was married. I will go put an end to this I thought and went downstairs. The conference room had no windows. I knocked then opened the door. Mark grabbed me as soon as I opened the door. He pushed me against the wall.

"Stop this right now" I said softly. As his hand cupped my breast.

"Tell me you don't want this" Mark hissed in my ear. As he lifted my skirt.

"Take off your panties" he whispered. I pushed them down letting them fall around my ankles.

"You have such a great ass" he said as his fingers pushed into me again. I let him do whatever he wanted. I wanted to kiss him. I couldn't no this was just. What sex? Did thst make it okay. Mark had my blouse open and my bra unclasped as he finger fucked me. Taking my breast in his mouth. God I wanted him. I came on his fingers burying my face in his chest to muffle my whimpers. I could feel his excitement thru his slacks. Was he going to fuck me? I fumbled with his belt. But got his pants open letting them fall I reached into his boxes and grasped his manhood. He was bigger then I thought I couldn't close my hand around it I stroked him softly.

"Fuck me" I moaned.

"Show me how much you want me to" He told me. I dropped to my knees. I hadn't even sucked my husband in years. But I took him in my mouth. I stroked and sucked his cock. Without warning he came in my mouth. I had never let anyone cum in my mouth. I spit into the garbage can.

"You need to work on that. But don't worry you will get lots of practice" He told me. What an arrogant prick I thought. He then smiled and kissed me. Not a peck a deep tounge probing passionate kiss. Even after I had just had his cum in my mouth.

"I have to go" he said softly grabbing my ass. Before he fixed his pants. I was practically naked alone in a conference room at work. I quickly put myself together and rushed to the ladies room to wash out my mouth and fix my hair. I was still so horny when I went home. Paul wasn't home yet. And our daughter Amy and our son John had basketball practice. I went to the bedroom and pulled out my little pink toy. I rubbed it against my clit thinking about Mark. Then wondered I put it in my mouth sucking it. Trying to take more. It tasted like me I didn't mind it wasn't like a man it was sweet. I managed to take most of it while I fingered myself. Then plunged the toy into my soaking wet slit I cried out as I came. I got changed putting on sweats. And started dinner. But could not get Mark out of my head. I kept trying to see how far I could stick things down my throat as I cooking. Spatula handle, a banana. What was wrong with me I had cheated on my husband and I just wanted more.

I waited until dinner, homework was done, the kids where in bed. Then I dragged Paul to bed. He kept saying 10 minutes. But I needed it now. I surprised him buy sucking his dick. I realized how much smaller he was then Mark. I didn't know how big Paul was we never measured it or anything. Then Paul did the thing I needed he flipped me around and went downtown me. Man this man had a magical tounge. E made me cum for the third time today. Then he climbed on top and made live to me. As he kissed me I thought of Mark. He didn't make me cum he never did. But I loved this man.

I ran into Mark the next morning as we were walking into work. He gently grabbed my elbow in the crowd and steered me to the stairs. Once the door closed he kissed me. I didn't even have time to think.

"No skirt, have to be difficult" He said with a smile. He had my pants down and my panties off. Holding my hands above my head. He shoved my legs apart and drove his cock into me. HD lifted me off the floor and fucked me against the cold concrete wall. He was so big he filled me. I just kissed him as he took me. He came hard and deep inside me. He placed me back down kissing me agsin before vanishing out the door. I again found myself rushing to get dressed. Then heading to the ladies room. My make up a mess. I was actually late by the time I got upstairs.

The next morning I went prepared, leaving early. Not doing my makeup. Wore a skirt, put clean panties in my purse. But no Mark. It wasn't until almost the end of the day when my supervisor came and told me HR wanted to see me. God had we been seen on camera or something. I was nervous when I knocked on Maria's door.

"Andrea" Maria said with a smile getting up to greet me.

"Great news, a position opened up in accusations and your name is on top of the list" Andrea told me.

"Really, what position?" I asked not even sure what they did up there. Andrea stepped very close.

"Personal slut" she hissed. Kissing me. Startled I stepped back.

"What?" I managed to say.

"Mark has requested you be moved to personal slut, just one more interview." Maria unbuttoned her dress.

"I don't understand?" I stuttered

"Yes you do, you are going to lick and suck my pussy until I let you go" Maria told me. She continued to get undressed. She was a beautiful woman but this was. Personal slut?

"What's it going to be fired or" ahe leaned back on her desk., "Come on" she encouraged I stepped towards her I couldn't lose my job. I knelt. I had never been with a woman I just started to do what Paul did to me. Maria loved it she came fast. I had never been with a woman but I loved it I was soaking wet when instead up. Maria just fixed her dress. As she started to talk about my new duties. As she moved I thought about how she had not put her panties back on.

"As a company slut. You may be aske to please several executives even at the same time" Maria said.

"Maria I can't I am married" I stuttered.

"No one says you can't sleep with him as well" Maria commented. "But it might be better if you just started cuckolding him"

My head was spinning. What was I going to do?

"Some men will expect to use your ass as well" Maria continued. I had never even let Paul use my ass.

"There are several company sluts you are not special, you will recieve a raise and a clothing allowance" Maria handed me some papers to sign. I squirmed in my seat.

"Your horny little slut aren't you" Maria smiled seeing my discomfort. I just blushed.

"Strip" Maria laughed. I was naked in seconds.

"You will have to learn to get to strip. Men like a show. And sexy lingerie is a must" Maria told me he'd hands cupped my breast smacked my ass. She examined me.

"Bend over" she commanded she walked around the room. She approached and applied lube to my ass. Her fingers pushed into my ass. She removed them and pushed something harder and bigger in. It hurt then it set.

"You like the plug slut? You want your ass stretched?" Maria laughed. She had me stand and applied nipple clamps with a chain. And led me out of her office. Everyone was gone. I was terrified as she walked me down the hall. She knocked on a door then entered.

"Good I was hoping you where still here" she said a older man in his 60s turned and looked at me.

"This is Mr Lewis" she told me and left. He casually walked across the room. Handed me the glass of whiskey he was drinking. I downed it in one gulp. He glanced down. I hesitated and he pulled the chain on my nipple clamps I dropped to my knees and fumbled with his belt. He just stood there as I dropped his pants and underwear. His cock still soft I took it in my mouth. He moaned as I made him hard. He wasn't very long but thick. I struggled to open my mouth wide enough.

"That's enough" he told me. I stopped and stood.

"Over the desk" he commanded as he finished getting undressed. I leaned over the desk. He came up behind me. His hands on my hips he slid his cock into me. A deep sense of relief washed over me. As I was so wet. He fucked me slow his little pot belly rubbing my ass. I came as he fucked me. I could feel my own juices running down my thighs. Then he came adding his to it. I got dressed in my gym clothes that I had left in my desk and went home to husband.it was late he was worried. After a long conversation I explained everything. He just sat there in shock. I reached over and stroked his cock.

"Baby I love you" still stroking him. "But I need this, I don't know why but I do." Paul unzipped his pants.

"I can't I mean it's sore" I told him. He just nodded as I stroked his cock. "He was really big, they both are"i told him. His little 4 inch dick squirted there was so little cum I thought after how much my bosses had cum. I kissed him and went to shower.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

@sunsetandevningstar wanted to see some of the Maddie Fix-It from my WIP list. She confronts Tommy at a farmer's market after eavesdropping on a conversation he has with a vendor he knows. I channeled a lot of protective sibling rage into this, but also Maddie is ultimately a sweetheart so it doesn't last.

“You broke his heart!” She’d really intended to keep calm, but she also wants to throw Tommy in front of a moving semi. “You idiot, you fucking idiot, how dare you run away from him? He’s had enough of that his entire life, you weren’t supposed to do it, too.”

Tommy looks shell-shocked, which is fair. He probably hasn’t had a lot of crying, upset, angry women confront him in the middle of a farmer’s market on a Sunday. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have done something so stupid.

“I didn’t mean to—” he starts, and she cuts him off with a shake of her head and a finger in his face.

“No! That’s not how this works,” she says, trying to swallow around the burning rage in her throat. “No one means to do it to him, but they do it anyway, and then he moves on and thinks that maybe, maybe this is going to be the time it doesn’t happen. Because he’s a good person, and he thinks other people are good, even when we’re not.”

She wipes her eyes, because she can’t see Tommy’s face anymore. When her vision’s clear, he looks shattered, which gives her a kind of vicious satisfaction.

“I’m a runner,” she says, watching the way his gaze drops to the concrete between them. “I ran from home, I ran from him, I ran from my ex, from Chimney, from our daughter—and only one of those times was a good idea. And I thought maybe that means it’s the right choice every time, and it’s not. I don’t know when it worked out for you, and I’m glad it did, but that’s not now. That’s not him.”

Tommy’s jaw is clenched and trembling, and she’s short enough that she can see tears roll down his cheeks even with his head down. The part of her that wants to avenge her brother’s heartbreak seems to have been appeased, because she just feels sad for him. They’re about the same age, but he looks so young and sad and lost.

“He doesn’t always do things in the right order or say the things he really means, because he gets excited,” she says, stepping closer and putting her hands on his ridiculous biceps. “But I thought you understood that.”

“I do,” Tommy says, his voice raw and choked.

“I know,” she says, feeling her eyes burn with more tears. “I was scared, you know? My baby brother was throwing himself into another relationship, and I got worried. But I saw you two together, and I stopped being scared. I let my guard down with you and let you into my life and my daughter’s life and trusted you with my brother’s heart, because you seemed to understand him better than anyone else I’ve ever seen him with. Whatever you’re thinking about yourself is coming from a monster that’s been feeding you lies. What I saw, what I heard, was something real.”

When he finally looks at her, she stands on her toes and pulls him into a hug. She’s gotten really good at making up the difference of a foot in a hug and taking care of her giant of a brother, but Tommy collapses into her and she puts a foot back to keep herself from toppling. She wonders if anyone has hugged him at all since the break-up, if he’s been isolating himself from everyone the same way he’s isolated himself from the 118. She knows it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do.

“C’mon,” she says, rubbing between his shoulder blades. “I know our five minutes aren’t up, but you need to sit down.”

[trash-tzar]

*taps the mic* Hi is this thing on cause @fluffypotatey gets it i think based on tags below

I think a lot of s2 Jayce/s1 Viktor media focuses a lot on "Viktor finally gets appreciated the way he deserves" when in fact we should be focusing on "seeing s2 Jayce shows Viktor how much Jayce has *always* cared about him"!!!!!!

Viktor not only being uncomfortable with s2 Jayce's energy but ALSO realizing that shutting Jayce out the way he likely has is going to absolutely *wreck* Jayce. So yeah he goes running to s1 Jayce because he's familiar and comforting and s2 Jayce is scaring the fuck outta him a little!!! But also because he realizes he can avoid at least *some* of this by fixing some shit RIGHT NOW!

And ofc in my heart once Viktor explains the whole thing and is emotionally vulnerable Jayce crumbles and drops whatever council bullshit that was looming/he was already involved in based on the point in the timeline.

Anyway I'm s1 Jayce's #1 lover and defender and I hate the exclusion and active bullying of him from s2 Jayce/s1 Viktor works!!!!! He is not the inferior Jayce he just doesn't KNOW shit yet.

While I'm talking to JayVik nation I am a FIRM believer that s2 Jayce's intensity would freak s1 Viktor the fuck out.

S2 Jayce meeting s1 Vik would fix things but it's because s1 Vik goes running back to his Jayce after meeting this extremely well meaning but intensely overbearing Jayce who is scaring him a little bit tbh and his Jayce is so familiar and comforting that he just sticks right by him until s1 Jayce goes "ok what the fuck are you ok" and they all talk about feelings and maybe fuck about it then the s1 boys send s2 Jayce off like loving married parents waving to their kid on the school bus on his way to his first day of class and then everything's fine.

Yall are WAY too confident in Viktor's ability to get through his emotional constipation overnight

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Random Headcanons (18+)

Mirage!Donatello x reader

A/N: It feels like a day or two since I’ve done something for Donnie, so here’s a quick one for you. Enjoy

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Mentioning of sex, mentioning of rough sex, mentioning of oral - male receiving.

Donatello is very much a calm and level headed lover, and a just as calm and level headed boyfriend, if not more. He is very good at telling you what is on his mind, being something nice and sweet, very emotional, or something more spicy. Because, oh boy, this man could really say some earth shaking spicy stuff when you least expected him to.

You could be sitting with Donnie, as he sat hunched over his latest project, talking without him looking up from his work. You could be talking about something that had annoyed you that day. That one colleague from work had really been pushing you mentally, and now you just needed to let Donnie know about it, just to feel some kind of emotional relief from your frustration and stress. Then, still without looking up at you, cleaning off his screwdriver with a cloth, Donnie would suddenly say something along the lines of; “do you need me to get it out of your mind, or do you just need some oral? Or do you need something stronger?” That wicked smile on your face was enough of an answer for Donnie.

Donnie usually liked to have, what could be called “sex in the moment”. Let's say that you were cuddling together, and at that point the mood was just right, allowing Donnie to drop straight into you, and take you from behind. Or let’s say that you were in the mood, but Donnie was busy reading a comic book, or a manual for that machine he was fixing up. At that point Donnie would very much encourage you to do whatever you wanted to him, while he was getting the last few bits fixed. Yes, that has let you to either suck him off, or bounce back against Donnie, while he worked on one of his projects.

One thing you found really fun, was how you and Donnie could have had the most, nasty, lewd, back arching, legs far up over Donnie’s shoulders sex, but if you asked him about it - what he thought of it, or how it was - he would always just smile at you, wrap and arm around you in order to pull you close, before telling you; “I was amazing, just like always”, as if the two of you had just made love, and he haven’t just turned you into a pretzel, fucking you to heaven and back like an absolute beast.

[killianjonesapologist]

I wrote a small fix for these two basically detailing what happened after Rafe tried to drown Sarah and him going to Barry so ik it’s not what I’d usually do but idk this is my account so I do wut I want 😛

Includes!- swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of hearing voices, hurt/comfort, angst, very briefly beta read, Rafe Cameron psychosis

“BARRY! HEY MAN OPEN UP!” Barry comes grumbling and stomping over to the screen door.

“Shit bro chill the fuck out— aye man what happened to you, did your daddy whoop your ass?” He rested a hand on Rafe’s  shoulder, noticing the tears spewing from his eyes and the bruises littering his cheeks.

“I… Barry I…” he hesitated, Barry would of course understand, but something as extreme as attempted murder on your own sister would be something to process. 

“C’mon, spit it out country club.” He gave him a gentle shake as his grip on Rafe shoulder tightened 

“Sarah she— and then I tried too— and then Topp he—“ the words broken up between choked out sobs, his palms hitting the sides of his head, making an attempt to quiet the voices screaming at him.

“Look at me man, calm. down. Ok? Just breathe bro, breathe” he extended the last syllable and took a deep breath of his own as an example, Rafe trying to follow his pattern.

“Just in and out. Ok? Now tell me what’s up.” 

“Sarah, she uh— she’s just always against us you know, like, she just doesn’t understand that we’re trying to be a good family for her. She has to keep running her mouth and disrespecting all dad has done for her. I— I couldn’t take it anymore. She wouldn’t stop fucking arguing with me 

and I—“ he rambled on as the tears eventually bubbled up again.

Barry nodded at his every word, taking in every piece of information. He had grown accustomed to all of Rafe’s mannerisms, his nervous stutter, the way he tapped on his head and neck, his fluttering eyelashes trying to blink away tears. He moved his grip from his shoulder down to his hand, taking it in his own. 

“Whatever you’ve done, I’ve done worse. I’ve told you this.”

“I tried to drown her.”

Barry stayed silent for a beat. Shit. Rafe knew he had fucked it up. He should never have come here. He should never have trusted him.

“Come on,” Barry said, gesturing to his open door.

“What?” Rafe’s confusion was visible. Did he miss the attempted murder part?

“What, are you gonna deny a place to sleep away from your dad? Just come inside.” 

He followed behind Barry like he was told, the instant warmth of the smokey trailer was a comfort he had grown to love in the past few months.

Once they got inside Barry pointed at his couch, signaling for him to sit. The gesture was a bit degrading, Rafe so easily taking to this dog-like command, but he didn’t mind with Barry. He would never let anyone else talk to him in the way Barry did, though. 

They both took their seat next to each other on the couch. Barry rested an arm against the back of it while still keeping hold of one of Rafe’s hands in the other. 

His mind had been racing but he was only able to conceive one thought,

“These hands… these god given hands. The same ones used to kill and hurt. The hands he used to drown his own his sister. The weapons on his wrists that Barry held so delicately. He was dangerous, everyone on the island knew it, but Barry would forever be the one thing that made him less of a monster.”

[leilasmom]

𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖'𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨. (𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕣)

pairing: stalker!jake x reader (f)

synopsis: It all started when you met Jake Sim—the campus golden boy everyone adored. Charming, new, and impossible to resist, you quickly become his obsession. But as you fall deeper into his world, you realize the person you're falling for isn’t who he appears to be. And soon, you're trapped in a game you never agreed to play.

warnings: stalking (obv), manipulation, explicit smut, violence, physical and mental abuse, toxic jake, non-con and dub-con scenes!!, more to be added. (none in this teaser tho)

word count: 1.2k

author's note: hiii, im completely new to writing and especially posting as this is my first fic. dont know how much attention this will recieve but i'd appreciate some constructive criticism to improve!

release date: tbd

now playing: mind games by sickick

It all started when you met Jake Sim. He was the campus guy—popular with the girls, adored by the professors, the kind of person everyone gravitated towards, but still had the kind, innocent, and nerdy element to him. If there was a charity event, Jake was organizing it. If someone had tech problems, Jake was fixing them. He had this effortless way of making you feel like you were the center of the world when he spoke to you.

You weren't immune to it, either. As a new freshman, you’d heard his name long before you met him. So when you found yourself at a party a month into your first semester trying not to look out of place, Jake was the last person you expected to notice you.

You weren’t even supposed to be at that party. Crowded rooms filled with loud music and drunk strangers weren’t exactly your thing, but your new friend/roommate Ava insisted. She was the kind of girl who thrived in any social setting, the life of the party, effortlessly magnetic, something you learned the first day you moved into your dorm. With her status as an upperclassman, she knew everyone worth knowing and had declared that you had to go to the “first party of the year” because it was “going to be epic.” So, naturally, she dragged you along.

Now you were nursing a watered-down drink in the corner of a house that smelled like cheap beer and vanilla-scented candles. Ava stood beside you, casually pointing out all the people she deemed “important”—guys and girls she seemed to have endless stories about, whether those memories were good, bad, or in between.

“Oh!” she said suddenly, nudging you with her elbow. “That’s Jake Sim over there. Real nice guy, everybody loves him.” 

You followed her gaze across the room. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, talking to a group of people who seemed completely captivated by whatever he was saying. Even from a distance, it was easy to see why. He had that kind of face—sharp jawline, warm smile, the perfect amount of confidence in the way he carried himself. His dark hair pushed back slightly over his forehead, like it had been styled that way on purpose. 

You nodded without saying anything.

“You know,” Ava smirked, “I feel like he’s been eyeing you across the room for a while.” 

You blinked, startled. “No he hasn’t.”

“Oh, he has. He’s doing that thing guys do where they pretend to listen to the conversation but keep glancing at you like you’re the main event.”

And who’s to say you weren’t the main event? Sure, this was your first official college party and the atmosphere felt a little out of your comfort zone, but it’s not like you spent your whole life as some awkward wallflower. You’re hot and you have what it takes to make men gawk and stop to stare at you on the streets. Even if you were oblivious about it. Even if you didn’t care. Plus you were a new, young face to the campus. And what do college boys with raging hormones love more than some new, hot, fresh meat?

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off. I mean, yeah, Jake was cute, but you weren’t going to entertain the idea of him eye fucking you across the room from your very tipsy friend who definitely should take it slow with the alcohol. You came here to accompany your friend, not for some popular boy. And that’s what you were going to do. At least that’s what you told yourself.

You couldn’t help sneaking another glance in his direction. Sure enough, his eyes met yours for probably the hundredth time that night. Your breath caught for half a second as he smiled. Not a quick, polite one, but the kind of cocky and sly smile that made it seem like he knew something you didn’t.

“See?” Ava whispered, “Told you.” Before you could argue, Jake excused himself from his group of drunk friends and started making his way towards you. Your instinct was to bolt, but Ava was quick to grab your arm, holding you in place. “Oh my god, he’s coming over here.”

“Shut up. Don’t make it weird,” you hissed under your breath.

“Me? Never,” she said, but the mischievous glint in her eyes told a different story.

Jake stopped a few feet away, holding a red solo cup in one hand, the other casually tucked into his pocket. “Hey,” he said, his voice so smooth but unassuming that for a second you didn’t know if he was talking to you or Ava, until his eyes eventually met yours. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jake.”

You hesitated for a moment, your throat dry. But Ava on the other hand, ever the social butterfly, was already beaming with her response. “This is _____. She’s a freshman. And she’s my new roomie.” 

“Ah, Jake said, his smile widening as he held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Freshie huh? Welcome to the chaos. If you ever need a hand settling in, don’t hesitate to ask. I know Ava over here wasn’t exactly the most put-together during her freshman year,” he playfully teased.

Ava rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah yeah, whatever,” she replied in defeat. You could tell they shared some history together, though the details weren’t something you cared to uncover at the moment.

You shook his hand, feeling his strong grip and his overwhelming gaze. “Thanks,” you managed to mumble, your voice quieter than you intended.

Ava, clearly delighted, nudged you again before stepping back. “I’m going to find another drink. You two have fun.” She shot you a not so discreet wink, one Jake clearly noticed. He responded with a low, undeniably attractive chuckle that stirred something inside you, something you knew you shouldn’t be feeling. 

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you alone with him.

Jake tilted his head slightly, studying you with an intensity that made you want to fidget. “So, what do you think of the party?” 

“It’s… loud.” 

He chuckled and you awkwardly laughed in return. “Yeah, not really my scene either,” he admitted. “I was actually about to head out. Want to join me? I know a quieter place where we can talk.”

You hesitated, something about his directness caught you off guard. You’d been in similar situations like this before—situations where boys had tried to talk you into following them to their rooms and the like. Now, you weren’t inexperienced when it came to men, but a one night stand with someone you’ve been conversing with for about 45 seconds didn’t seem like something you were interested in at the moment. But that wasn’t what Jake was implying. You could tell he wasn’t like other guys in the past, the ones who were all too eager to make their intentions clear. There was something different about the way he carried himself. 

And something different, there definitely was. But we’ll get to that part later.

Jake was patiently waiting for your response while you contemplated. You looked up at him and he smiled again, that disarming, perfect smile, and for a moment, you forgot why you were even questioning it. 

“Sure,” you replied, not realizing then that this was the moment that everything in your life would change.

[gnohomotho-blog]

Just a game

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x fem!reader

Summary: Just you, your wannabe boyfriend, and the start of an encounter that will change your life. With one phone buzz.

Warnings: Mainly a beginning of something more, mentions of stalking and spying, some rude language, mentions of doctors and ignorance of the ethical codex. Please have fun! Responsibly.

"I'd like that very much."

The voice of your companion echoes through the room, flaps against the wall and hits you in the face. It jumps on empty hospital chairs, the doctor's desk, all white and plastic, as dull as whatever the words are dancing on your eardrums with.

You brush your hair behind your ear. All too aware of how mannquine-like and empty the face in front of you looks. Your own head is reverberating. Your lips purse.

"I wouldn't."

The chair under you doesn't move. You wish it would. Carry you away on its little legs. You wonder how chairs could graze freely on some kind of chair-free plane, free from the shackles of architecture---you hear the doctor's words again, and you hear yourself thank them, apologize, plan to take the errant papers and leave the door open behind you. Always planning. Always going away.

"What? Y/N, I...what? Let's talk abou this. Please, stop acting like this! Don't do this to me."

The voice is broken, and you truly do try to care beyond wondering about a chair's natural habitat. Truth be told, all you manage instead of a grand exit is silence. You stand up - silently. You thank the doctor - silently. And you walk out of the door, muttering some native curse words under your breath and pondering whether vending machines truly are as deadly as the statistics say. He made it about himself, again, you think to yourself.

"I can't believe you...no, wait, I fucking can."

You're tired. You feel violated. You would like to crawl into a bed, had you had a safe one to do in. Hug a cat, if you had one. Hug a crow, if you could. Anything.

You mumble to yourself in hushes as you finger the coffee machine, knowing whatever it serves up will just make you feel sick. Your companion is catching up. A tall, imposing kind of boy. Not that it mattered. You never did find pretty boys pretty.

"Boy," you think to yourself. A boy. A boy who can't get his toy to work, and now he's wasted all those friendship tokens and used up all his faces on you, you ungrateful little...

"Y/N, look, what the hell---I really tried, I went all this way, I took you here, I'm just trying to help!"

He really did sound like a little boy tearing at his mother's skirt. His dark black hair fell into his forehead, his neat sweater leaning a bit to the left. You notice his lips and wonder, whatever possessed you to even begin to think of a future with them?

"Help. You wanted to help yourself. Fix your little broken toy and have something to fuck. Did it get tiring? Pretending to care?"

The coffee machine whirred in what you hoped was something of an agreement. You turn around and face the man, boy, whatnot, and try to look put together. Some old couples begin to notice the commotion. An old lady with a dog in her purse is not doing a very good job of looking disinterested in what, ironically, resembles a lover's quarrel.

"Wow, that's low. Y/N. I was there every time. I did so much for you, you didn't have to ask."

"You insisted. You didn't listen to any 'no thank you'. You dragged me here. Every time. Promising you..."

Your lips twist a little in disgust, but mostly, you don't feel anything anymore.

"Promising you love me, with that big "but" of yours. Well, good thing we have it on paper now - I can't love and I can't fuck, I suppose you've bet on the wrong horse - losing in game and losing in love. Fancy that."

God damn it, not the tears, not the tears, you feel your eyes glisten and your stomach tighten. Hair falls from behind your ear, shielding your face. A tear rolls down.

"There's nothing wrong with me, nothing that you could fix by blunt forcing it. I was so stupid, it's my fault. Really truly my fault. I thought...I thought for a moment it could be something it obviously never could...It was never your responsibility to try or to fix anything, and I was so incredibly naive to think you'd adjust pace to something you obviously have no interest in if you can't violate it in a matter of minutes."

Slug and salt. Fire and gasoline. Lungs and carbon monoxide. That's what you are, you think. You don't realise nor would you know, that the whole time, someone was watching you. Someone noticed the way you held your stomach the entire time you spoke, as if shielding and soothing something vulnerable and tender. The way your eyes shone when you stood your ground. The way your pupils seemed to beckon a new visitor with glimpses of a world beyond this one with its unimaginative hospital corridors and dull white waiting rooms. He watched your legs as you held yourself up, seeing the coffee machine did half the work. He watched them buckle a little bit and you adjust. Your tights reflected the light, just as you did. His eyes trailed up to your skirt, your hands, your waist. Your hands, he found those most beautiful. They spoke with you. They had the fingers of a piano player and the fervour of a boxer losing a match.

Now they rested on your stomach again, shielding. Your body closed off once more. Your voice became more monotone. He could gather from the hushed whispers that this wasn't your boyfriend nor husband, but in a place like this - perhaps an ex? Or soon to be, he smiled the most innocent of hidden smiles before resuming a neutral, dignified expression. A baby's father? You did rest your hand on your stomach quite a bit...but the conversation you had in front of him wasn't enough. Now he was intrigued.

The way your lips pursed and remained a tad open when you thought of what to say, the way your eyes narrowed and your mouth made a perfect tiny shape when you found your words. Things you'd never think about yourself, oh, he was intrigued.

Intrigued by the girl with the long fingers and the gentle touch. The girl with fire in her eyes that draws you into the depths of a frozen river in the middle of the night and never makes you wish to leave.

How convenient was it that some people have the power to pull a few strings and Waltz into the very same doctor's office you walked out of and Waltz straight out again with your full medical records.

..............................................................................................................................

You were walking home when your phone buzzed. You thought you blocked your ex-companion, you checked the messages and yes - his communication, circular and either blaming you or himself were still safely stored in the same blocked folder. No, this was an uknown number that you couldn't even see.

"Seriously?"

You sigh into the cold evening air and adjust your stance for a better look at the phone screen. An odd, jittery, almost chilly feeling envelops you and you shiver - that sensation of being watched washes around you and touches your skin. Going up and down your arms and calves. Stopping at your chest. You look around, but there is only dusk, cold, melted snow. A few lights from other houses. A streetlamp here and there. Nobody. You lean your head into the phone again, stepping away from the road you were walking on.

"How are you feeling, Y/N?"

The chill shot through your calves straight into your stomach and through your ribs to your head. It's him again, just a different number, of course. Oldest trick in the book. You wonder if you should reply, but think better of giving him further attention. Just as you put your phone away, it buzzes again.

"You seem cold."

You turn your head and scan every single shape around you, chills shaking your body as you do. This wasn't funny. This was so far from funny you are actively wondering where you left your pepperspray and whether or not setting a match to your deodorant would do the trick, should it come to it.

"I'm fine, leave me alone, stop texting me from other numbers, I know it's you." You quickly type trying to watch the surroundings more than the screen. It buzzes almost immediately back at you.

"I'm not him. And you seem cold. Tights and a skirt in your condition, walking alone in the dark and the snow. It isn't very wise, is it?"

Although text messages don't convey tone, you can feel the patronising air and boundary tear emanating from your screen. You hurry your legs to get out and back home as fast as you can.

"Please don't run in your condition. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

"Fuck off." You whisper and break into a sprint. You don't hear steps or running behind you, you don't hear cars or anything but the sounds of the night. But a calm shrill sound does break the silence the moment you stop to catch your breath. Almost at home, almost--

"And please, if you may be so kind, don't dissobey me."

..............................................................................................................................

In-ho wasn't omnipotent nor could he predict your movements, listen in on your thoughts, or stalk you without issue. He knew he'd lose you if he gave himself away. He knew he'd scare you if he revealed all he knew and he was enough of a gentleman to understand the basics of what constitutes harrassment and stalking. In-ho was also in control. Always in control. Of people, of power, of his surroundings, of the entire games. And of course. Of himself. And if he wasn't, and he started to slip, he would relinquish that control by any means neccessary. As he told himself now, it's nothing. Just a game. Just a bit of back-and-forth and fun. He's not enamoured, he's simply interested. It's not attraction, it's a need to study. It's not need, want, feeling - no, it is cold, simple fascination and control. Cat and mouse. Nothing more. And he's comfortable in this role, of course. Watching a player from up top, sipping his drink of choice. This is exactly the same. But why does it feel so very different? His heart. Racing. His hands. Typing. Erasing. Typing. Oh, he wants to show you he knows everything. He wants to show you the plans he has for you. He wants to take you from the cold street and hold you so tight your breath and heart belong to him, even as you struggle. He wants to make you yearn for his gloved touch more than the cold air outside and beg for a touch of his skin, his caress, his own body against yours. He wants you to instinctively shield yourself again, just so he can catch your wrist and hold it down, exposing you to him, defenseless and his.

He wants you to yearn for it. Shiver. Fear. Need. Beg.

He wants those beautiful, deep eyes to gaze up into his and drown.

[11queensupreme11]

ARE YOU KIDDING ME, CU WOULD ACTUALLY CHEAT ON PERCY?????

Would he at least feel bad? Apologize? BEG for forgiveness?!

he wouldn't feel bad.... right away, at least.

because again, he's very stuck in his (ancient) ways. in his eyes, he didn't do anything wrong! he's innocent!

but then percy starts to ignore him..... she's no longer smiling at him.... no longer having that playful banter or responding to his playful and teasing jabs....... no hugs, no kisses, no cuddling, no "welcome home!" when he comes back..... the palace is suddenly very cold and devoid of it's previous warmth

THAT'S when he has his "oh shit" moment 💀

but he won't do anything yet! he's got the pride and ego as big as a god's. he feels like shit but he's too proud (and nervous and scared, very very scared) to apologize. at this point, he feels guilty but he still doesn't really GET IT yet. yes, he acknowledges that his actions hurt percy, but he's still in the "i was only relieving my urges, i didn't do anything wrong" stage, just much more quiet about it now

he'll cave in after a few months and FINALLY apologize, but at the point, percy's done with him. remember how emer was like to fand "fine, u can have him", percy will be like too, but she'll be 10000% serious about it. she's not gonna change her mind as quickly as emer did just cuz cú chulainn apologized. his side piece can have him. that's fine. she never wanted him anyway. she only accepted her situation because she had no choice, but she DID at least care for cú chulainn, but now? after what he did? nah, she's done

and cú chulainn fucking PANICS, but only internally. there's no way percy's be serious right? she's gonna just let him go? just like that? haha, dumbass you can't divorce him, don't you know???? oh, but that's okay with her too??? he can have his affairs, they can just be married by name, the love's all gone??? now he's really panicking and it's showing. this idiot's gonna be scrambling to fix his mistakes.

and now he finally, finally, fiiiiinaaally gets that "oh shit. maybe sleeping with another woman really was wrong of me. maybe i really am a shitty husband cuz now my wife doesn't even CARE ABOUT ME anymore and i miss her so much" moment 💀💀💀💀 but at that point, he's waaaaay too late.

like i said, he's put himself in a loveless marriage now. his only choice is to either divorce percy and set her free (unlikely) or do whatever it takes to fix this mess which is gonna take a couple of centuries 💀💀💀💀💀💀

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️

114 for ⚖️:

---

He didn’t mean to do anything. He was sold the body. He had no idea. He didn’t go looking for trouble. He didn’t know anything ahead of time. His worst crime, really, was being overzealous for Halloween. If this whole thing has been about giving people back the energy they deserve, what the hell did he ever do to deserve this? 

As glad as Buck is that he’s been able to secure his loved ones’ futures, he wishes he could go back to a time when he didn’t know any of this existed at all. Ignorance is bliss, or whatever.

Eventually, worked up and exhausted and unable to calm his mind, Buck goes searching through his medicine cabinet. Not for anything disastrous. Just like night time cough medicine or drowsy allergy tablets. Something to help him along. He just needs to sleep. He thinks one, long restful sleep will be good for him. That’s what this must be. The inability to feel relieved from the punishments? It must be sleep deprivation. He’s been overdoing it. 

Buck finally finds some Benadryl, and slides a foil sheet of packaging out of the box. This will help, he thinks as he presses his thumb to pop one through its casing. It has to help. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” a familiar, smug voice fills the bathroom. “Do you fight fires with a water gun? Because that’s what you’re doing right now?”

Buck nearly drops the gel capsule in surprise. He turns to look at Nemesis. She’s leaning in the doorway, smirking.

“Is something fucking funny?” Buck demands. 

She shrugs. “Nothing has truly been funny to me in centuries.”

“That sucks,” Buck replies flatly. “I feel for you, really.”

“Ditch the pills,” she says. “That won’t fix anything. I’ve come to help.”

“Okay, for one, it’s Benadryl. For… Well, second, you ruined everything! I don’t trust your help! This whole thing was a fucking trap!”

“Well, it was an open door you walked through, sure,” Nemesis says. 

“Yeah, at the end of the maze you dropped me in!”

“So dramatic,” Nemesis sighs. “I always end up choosing drama queens.”

“Oh, yeah,” Buck scowls. “I’m just overreacting to the destruction of my personal life.”

“You shook on it,” she reminds him.

“What do you want from me?” Buck sighs. “What can I do to make this less painful?” 

“Well, it’s sweet that you’re asking,” Nemesis drawls. “But I’m here to tell you that you’re taking on a bigger project. Some fish that need to be fried.”

“And you can’t do it?” He asks.

“That’s what you’re for, kid. Or don’t you get it yet? I don’t want to do these things. But they need to be done, or there’s chaos.”

“So the quota we agreed on is changing, is what you’re telling me?” He asks. “Now I have to go after exactly who you want me to go after?”

She nods. “Or those pretty little futures aren’t guaranteed.”

“Who is it?” Buck asks, feeling snared. 

“A few politicians,” she says. “Some operating out of D.C, one out of Florida, and another-”

“What?” Buck demands. “No! I can’t just go jet setting. I have work.”

“Oh,” she nods. “I forgot to tell you. You should probably quit that.”

“Quit?” Buck gapes. “I’m not quitting!” 

“Well, really, your schedule isn’t your own anymore,” Nemesis says. “If you were some cute little travel blogger, I’d say, sure, continue. But firefighter? Won’t fly.”

“I can’t do that!” Buck protests. “I won’t!”

“Alright,” she nods. “Then don’t. Go look into one of their futures and spoil the whole thing. I hope you’re comfortable with what you see.”

“I-I can’t do that, either!” 

“Those are your two choices,” she says. “Or, there’s a third. Feel like this until it drives you to… Well.”

“This is cruel!” Buck shouts at her. 

“You think I care about cruelty? After all I’ve seen?” She laughs. “Even you are beginning to numb to it.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No, I could never-”

He’s cut off by the sound of a key turning in the front door lock. Buck goes rigid. This is horrible timing. There are only two people with his spare key. Eddie and Maddie. He doesn’t want either of them seeing him like this.

[brokemaw]

HE IS NOT UNLIKE A CHILD,  shuddering beneath the weight of a mother's disappointment and scorn.  Worse than a beating.  Watching Claire fill up that glass of wine to the brim,  only to drink deeply  —without pause,  the angular nature of her chest rising and falling like a panicked animal's.  Until the wine is gone,  washed down her throat  —rage blazing in the depths of her eyes.  Is she drunk?  Can she even feel it?  Why the hell did he go on and open his mouth?  

Sharp snap of an empty glass shattered against a nightstand  —and Claire's hand,  well,  it's bleeding.  It's cut with glass.  Alo winces at the sound as Claire continues,  unrelenting.  Returning every fragmented sentence Alo manages with an entire litany of bitter realities that Alo always felt,  but apparently,  needs to be reminded of. 

He was hearing too much truth.  Too much brutal honesty.  Dissected,  stretched on a metal tray  —the cycle of hurt,  the snake that eats itself.  The way that they all did it to one another.  It wasn't just their enemies.  He was just as monstrous as the creature staring at him with her blazing,  bloodshot eyes.  Maybe he's worse for the guilt that still gripped tight at the back of his throat,  as if feeling it could absolve him of anything.  What was worse than a lying dog with too-many-teeth?  Alo's chest is rising and falling with that same ragged panic.  He is more doe than wolf now.    He wants to badly to put his hands over his ears so he doesn't have to hear her.  He wants to pick out his own eyes so he doesn't have to see her.  But wants to run,  head-first,  toward the open French doors glowing with morning light behind Claire.  He could get out of the city.  He could run until he met water and keep running until it all stopped.  

Alo never got so lucky.  The greatest joke of his life,  sometimes,  was that he must continue on.  While Claire spits at Alo to fix it before bringing the dark bottle of wine to her bruise of a mouth.  She drinks with too much gusto,  as if desperate to drown out whatever riot rattled in the chasm of her chest.  He can feel her disgust with him.  Her shame.  He was unworthy of being by her side because he could not fight the guilt that reared its head whenever he acted within his nature.  If there could ever be such a thing  —unnatural as he was,  useless as he managed to be. 

His knees feel weak as he watches Claire finish off the bottle.  There are tears in his eyes,  stinging,  but he'll wipe them away with the back of his hand because he can't afford to have Claire see him cry.  She's torn him apart at the chest.  He's bleeding here,  standing in a growing pool of his own blood.  And she was right for it.  Claire was right,  Alo was wrong.  He could not deny it no more than he could deny himself. 

And she speaks,  and it hurts more than all of the shame  —all the embarrassment,  disgust.  She speaks and it just about fucking breaks his heart.  And he hates himself for it.  He hates how much he cares about her.  The fact that it's her words alone that inspire his bottom lip to quivering,  shaking hands rubbing at the sides of his face.  He makes a noise  —a small one.  Strangled in the pit of his chest. 

❛  I ... Okay  —okay.  You're right.  You're right.  ❛   He manages in a thick voice,  rubbing at his glassy eyes to quell the constant sting of tears.  He looks at his own feet.  He should have just walked away,  left her to her bottle of wine and cruelties.  But she was right about everything.  And he was wrong.  He missed the goddamn mark.  Grappling with a vicious urge to throw himself on the ground and beg for forgiveness.  But who does Alo really want to be forgiven by?  Where would it actually count?  His own frustration with the endless knot of feeling in his chest makes it difficult,  near impossible,  to speak.  But he does.  He does.    

❛  M'not tryin' to make you tired.  I just...  ❛   I'm scared.  I'm so scared,  Claire.  What do I do. Tell me what to do.  Tell me what to do!  Alo's trembling hand smooths over the tremble of his mouth.  Glassy eyes stare ahead,  at nothing but his own grief.   ❛ ... I'm sorry,  Claire.  I'm sorry.  ❛ 

Like clockwork,  a hard knock at the door.  Concerned.  Impatient.  Before anyone can respond,  Alo hears a little mutter of: "fuck it" before the bedroom door is swinging open.  Cee stands in the threshold,  bewildered pale blues darting from Claire to Alo  —the broken glass on the table,  the blood staining Claire's hand wine red.  Her broad hands grip the doorframe.  When she speaks,  she cries out.  Panicked. 

❛  —What's going on?  ❛

Claire feels the heat rise in her chest, a wave of anger and indignation that nearly buckles her knees. Alo's words—"I try for you. I do"—echo in her mind, reverberating like a mockery of everything she’s endured. I try. The audacity. The utter smallness of it in the face of what she’s carried.

Her grip tightens on the wine bottle as she pours herself another glass, the liquid sloshing precariously close to the rim. She doesn't care. The anger steadies her hand as she brings the glass to her lips and takes a deep, punishing swallow. The wine burns its way down her throat, sharp and acidic, but it’s not enough to drown the bitterness swelling inside her. She swipes the back of her hand across her mouth, her movements brusque, almost violent.

Her mind begins to churn, pulling her into the deep, familiar waters of her own pain. Memories surface unbidden, flashing like shards of broken glass. Her ballet instructor’s hand cracking against her thigh, the sharp sting of it, the shame that followed. The cold, clipped voices of her teachers, always finding her lacking, always expecting more than she could give. Her mother’s silences, her father’s distant stares—how they both seemed to look right through her, as though she were nothing but a faint outline of a person. And no matter how hard she worked, no matter how much she achieved, it was never enough.

Never good enough.

And now, what is she? A caretaker. A problem-solver. A fixer. Always doing, doing, doing for others. Always cleaning up their messes, bearing their burdens, and somehow it’s still not enough. They all want more. They expect her to endure, to absorb their chaos, their anger, their pain—and to never, never lash out in the aftermath.

Her chest heaves with the weight of it all as she slams the empty glass onto the table, the sound sharp and final. She doesn’t care if it shatters. Let it break. Let it all break.

She looks at Alo, her gaze sharp and unrelenting. He’s crumbling before her, shrinking into himself, his words faltering and fragile. But she feels no pity for him, not now. His guilt means nothing to her. Not when he has the nerve to ask something of her in this moment. Tell me you won’t do that again.

Her laugh is bitter, humorless, escaping her lips like a bark. “You hurt Kerry before you beat up the boy at the bar.” She spits, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You've already hurt him plenty. And he hurt you back. And we all just hurt each other. You think I don't understand it? I've thought of all the things Cilla was doing to me... what everyone does to me. But I will not put my actions on other people. We're all monsters.” She shakes her head, her hair falling into her face as she looks away, disgusted. The alcohol is beginning to sting. She hasn't eaten properly. She was supposed to eat Cilla's dinner. But now her mouth tasted like copper. Rage. Her voice quiets now when she does speak again.

“You want me to promise? To say I’ll never do it again? Fine.” She leans forward, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “I promise. But you messed that boy up. You marked Kerry's record as much as I did. You fix it. He's all yours, anyway. Take him back. Fix it.”

Her voice cracks, and she takes a shaky breath, her fingers trembling as she picks up the wine bottle again. She doesn’t bother with the glass this time, drinking straight from the bottle, the bitterness of the wine mingling with the bitterness in her throat.

“I’m tired, Alo,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I wanted a companion in all of that. Someone who already understood the burden of being used.”