#I have two deductions from my paycheck now

[dadstarkk]

According to one of my coworkers, the dems (he actually didn't mention the party name, just said "they") are taking our money and giving it to the "illegals"

Can't imagine who he'll be voting for in November...

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 21.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: smut. what if we made a drunk sex tape. The next chapter will be the end.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Links: Masterlist The Letters (Bonus Chapter)

Tag: @his-mochi-cheeks

Your perspective on the other side of that patio door was a haze. You were drunker than you thought. Your quick stop at the empty bathroom just inside of that patio didn’t help sharpen your mind much.

The journey back to the grand ballroom, back to the party, had an odd buzz of excited whispering from groups of guests that you passed. Everywhere and all around you heads were leaned in close as they all giggled and whispered about some event that had transpired; some shocking party scandal. As you drew closer to your particular group of people you began to notice an occasional pair of eyes glance in your direction and just as quickly those eyes would look away.

The buzzing through your veins seemed once fully attributed to the alcohol suddenly felt just a little less warming and more chilling.

They were all very thrilled with whatever the news was. Highly amused in a sort of rubbernecker kind of way. Whatever had happened had no like effect on their lives. Whatever had happened would only ruin someone else’s life or worse, their career. You tried to make longer eye contact. You tried to gague what sort of a scandal it was this time. All the while wondering if you had done enough in your life to be on God’s good graces. If the $25 paycheck deduction for the local animal shelter had bought you enough good karma to save you this time.

With their whispered giggles and their snickering body shaking secrets group after group you passed seemed to be incredibly worked up as the gossip seemed to be spreading through the hotel like wildfire.

That chill in your veins had spread and brought a sinking feeling inside of your stomach. You felt made just a little queasy by it.

What if someone saw.

What if a right place right time eye witness saw you and Baekhyun out there on that patio just now.

What if a party guest out on a smoke break just happened to be walking back up the sidewalk at the exact right time and happened to look up at the exact right time and happened to recognize your super sparkly dress or his blue satin suit and what if, what if, what if someone in one of the apartment homes directly across from patio was putting their child to bed after a bedtime story and as they were drawing the curtains to shut out the nighttime lights they happened to catch the both of you in full on, middle school textbook visual description of heavy petting, just so happened to know a guest at this very party who just so happened to have seen you both walk out there toward that patio and what if, what if, what if a phone call was made or a picture was sent and they put it together that you and Baekhyun had been sleeping together all this time; even and especially when you were his direct supervisor and in charge of things like his schedule and his bonuses and his promotions and his performance review oh my god his performance review the one you got fucked on top of and ruined and then directed him, as his supervisor to forge just as you had directed him as his supervisor to engage in sexual intercourse on company property on company time you were at least guilty of time theft and extortion and sexual harassment and fraud. Charges like that, even with the best lawyers, even if you beat the charges, your reputation would be ruined and you could face thousands upon thousands of fines and lawsuits and maybe even go to jail. Could you survive prison?

You weren’t the type to brag. This was a reality of your situation. But fucking hell, you were too pretty for prison.

Phones were buzzing on tables; lighting up around the darkened space like twinkling Christmas lights and you suddenly remembered you had one of those too and you pulled it out of the clutch bag you miraculously still had with you.

Your screen was lit up with notifications. Several of your work group chats had several unread messages and the messages were still coming in.

Your eyes scanned the incoming words desperate to find the subject of all of this mess.

‘No way!’

‘Omg I can’t believe it.’

‘That’s fucking crazy!’

You’d come into this too late. You quickly unlocked your phone and began scrolling up through the apparently bombshell that began all of this commotion and after several seconds of scrolling you came across the beginning.

‘!!!!!’

It started with an appropriate commotion and the next message instantly had you exhale a long sigh from deep within your lungs that seemed to take ages for all off the air to fully exit your body.

‘Chet just got dragged out by security and he’s being arrested for peeping in the ladies bathroom. Someone said he was laying on the floor taking pictures up skirts! What a fucking creep!!’

The relief felt like a light switch was flipped; with the instantaneous flood through your chest.

As quickly as the relief came a different worry. Despite the answer to your question being answered you still scrolled line by line through the flood of messages as your team members and other people in the agency discussed the news with ravenous delight. Word after word your eyes searched for his name. You searched for any possible connected to your name even if you had your doubts that these people would suddenly forget that you were also in this group chat if they wanted it start badmouthing you and spreading rumors about the incidentals behind why Chet happened to be in that hallway outside of the ladies room in the first place and who it was that might have been spotted having that big drunken loser onto the floor of that ladies room; surely they wouldn’t be doing that sort of gossiping in this group chat.

You were a manager but you hadn’t always been one. You knew for a fact that the lower tier employees had their own group chats and even amongst themselves they most certainly had broken off into even smaller chats where all of the juiciest bits of gossip were spread around.

You’d reached the end of the messages and the occasional buzz of your phone and signaled the arrival of something else was just a mirror of the same sort of sentiment.

‘He always gave me a bad feeling.’

‘Glad I never went on that date with him.’

‘I can’t believe this.’

‘He should be fired. Those woman would have to work with him again.’

This wouldn’t work. There was one person who you would ask to make sure your name and Baekhyun’s name hadn’t been connected to this in any way.

You found Sandi laughing and chatting near the appetizers and small bites tables.

Oh …food. You’d forgotten about food. Your drunken head swam and your stomach growled the moment you saw it and you slinked up silently right beside Sandi with your own little plate ready to grab something to eat.

“Sandi,” you whispered harshly beside her and she jumped and placed a palm over her chest, “I need to talk to you.”

“Jesus—” She groaned with her eyes closed, “someone should put a bell on you.” She mumbled under her breath.

You popped something that looked to be potato based into your mouth and chewed, swallowing quickly so you could drill her for what she might know.

You’d filled up your little plate and grabbed her by the elbow, ignoring the weird yelp she made when you pulled her behind you to some quiet corner where you could hear everything she said while also looking deep into her eyes for signs that she was leaving anything out.

“What happened with Chet?” You looked into her face as you said it and she looked back at you with the slightest pause in her words and mannerism before she actually started talking. When she did move it was to narrow her eyes and she looked over your face and then down over the length of you once before her eyes were back looking in yours.

“Maybe I need to ask you what happened with Chet.”

You looked down at your plate and popped another potato thing into your mouth, quickly grabbing another one because goddamn these were delicious, and you shrugged your face every so slightly as you chewed. You let your eyes land inside hers for a few seconds but then looked away again. You weren’t sure exactly why this woman was able to read you so well but you were quickly melting before her weirdly knowing gaze.

”What happened with Chet?” She said again in a quieter whisper and you sighed in genuine defeat knowing that this was going to take some explaining. She was going to need the whole story from the over the top flirtatious hugs as a greeting that he always insisted on, to the overheard conversation of Chet’s plans to basically conquer you for the sake of his ego and nothing else, as well as the way he seemed to feel that he was somehow owed something from you when you’d promised nothing and never had even given him anything more than professional politeness.

You had found a quiet place for this and had each grabbed fresh drinks and once you got talking you could feel her growing more and more irritated by that man’s terrible behavior. You heard the quiet gasps of surprise and her genuine laughter when you recounted the mop-water incident. You did your best to gloss over the entangled involvement of your boyfriend in this situation; but there was honestly no way around it when you got to the events of this evening that led up to Chet being outright arrested for sexually deviant behavior and the weird guilty feeling that bubbled up inside of your stomach when you thought that maybe he might be punished for something he didn’t even really do; not really.

Yes he’d grabbed you by the wrist and your wrist was still sore right now from it. You didn't know what his plans were with you. You didn't know if the man was just stupid or if he was actually dangerous but you definitely didn’t feel good about him being blamed for something he hadn’t actually done.

Sandi was giggling. You were feeling conflicted and she was too overcome with laughter to be of any actual help. Drunk Sandi was fun for scheming and gossiping, but you were looking for actual help here. When she finally got her giggles under control enough to talk, she did and with her words came the familiar relief you often felt when you shared any sorts of your worries with this woman.

“He wasn’t arrested. He was escorted out by hotel security, yeah, but I never saw any police. I think they just all got excited, you know how rumors are.”

“And you didn’t hear my name or,” you lowered your voice significantly and leaned in closer to her, “Baekhyun’s name connected in any way?”

She was giggling again, leaning closer as she whispered just as you had, “No, I didn’t hear his name, or your name, but Ma’am,” she emphasized the title with an over the top seriousness in her voice, “the way he looks at you…when he’s dancing with you…”

Her eyes had gone wide as her words trailed off and her mouth hung open briefly before she lifted a hand to fan her face dramatically. You had to cover your own face as the snort of giggles broke free from your chest.

“I don't know how anyone would survive that. You are strong. And I’ve never felt more single and more alone than I did watching you two dance — ohhh I’m getting mad just thinking about it.” She stood up with her empty glass and reached out her other hand for you to grab so you could come with her, “Come on, we need another drink.”

You grabbed her hand and quickly pulled her close to you so you could walk arm in arm with all of your silly drunken secrets and shared giggles. Both of your steps were a bit unsteady but together you at least had someone to lean on.

“You know you really are the most beautiful woman here tonight,” you whispered into her ear and she snorted out loud.

“Shut up. I look like a potato. Did you really have to go all out like this? Can’t you consider the rest of us?”

“If you are a potato then you are my loveliest sweet potato,” you leaned a head on her shoulder and she snorted and playfully pushed your head off. The rejection, even if playful, it only made you grip her arm tighter and lay your head on her shoulder more forcefully.

“No, my sweet potato!”

“He better appreciate how lucky he is.” She remarked seriously with a severe look down in your direction and you looked up at her curiously and her serious expression softened and grew into a reticent grin. “I’ll kill him if he hurts you.”

Again and again, Sandi was on your side. Again and again she was such a good friend you even played with the idea that maybe this wonderful woman who you always thought of so fondly might very well be your best friend.

“Sweet Potato,” you called up to her loud enough so that you were sure she heard you call her. She didn’t really respond other than a Quick Look. You gave her a little shake, “Sweet Potato Sandi,” you called again and she laughed and said a very drawn out and extremely informal, “whaaaat?”

“Will you be my Maid of Honor?”

Your question stopped her forward steps and she turned with surprised eyes to look at you. You straightened your spine and looked her right in the face with confidence and sincerity and after a few moments her shoulders sagged and she lifted her eyebrows with a tiny shrug on her face.

“Me?”

You nodded in earnest.

“Okay,” she said quietly with the slightest pink growing across her cheeks and the tiniest smile that fought to break free on her lips.

Eventually though, the smile grew wider and she giggled out an excited squeal that you quickly mirrored with a quick little jump up and down while holding hands in delight.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married!” She whispered through the excitement.

“I can’t believe I’m getting married!” You said just a little too loudly. She quickly shushed you and laughed noisily to hide what you had just said.

“Who’s getting married?” A familiar voice called out over the loud music from the dance floor. Marci had overheard and she was smiling wide with glassy eyes and a curious yet very drunk slur deep within her voice.”

“My sister—”

“My sister,” both you and Sandi said at the exact same time and Marci’s eyes bounced from your eyes to Sandi’s eyes and back to your eyes before her smile sagged and she looked up into the space above her head as she tried to make sense of what she was being told.

“Her sister,” she said and “Her sister,” you said in unison and you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep from spitting out in laughter. Marci just blinked at you both with a sort of far away and very, very deep look of genuine and hopeless confusion.

“Whose sister?” She finally said and you leaned forward shouting over the music with a wide smile and you nodded your head excitedly, “yes!” You declared, purposefully deceitful and confusing.

You would be sure to add it to your list of many sins.

“Let’s dance!” You shouted and you and Sandi grabbed her hand and pulled the poor girl deep within the chaos of the heat and bodies of people dancing to the thumping beat of the dance song.

Time was a blur of songs and laughter. Occasionally, someone’s hands and someone else’s body bumped up against you.

You had somewhere deep inside of you, a quietly nagging voice that did its absolute best to remind you of things. Proper things. Managerial things like respect and your position as a person to admire and trust amongst these people. Sandi aside, most if these people had to take your instructions at face value and answer your questions, and at times respond to your professional demands. You knew deep down that you could not sever that image of yourself.

And you thought you did pretty well. You laughed with them and danced with them and shared in the joy of the evening while still keeping whatever parts of your mind you needed to keep intact for the sake of the dynamics of the team.

You experienced a few moments of control. You had a handle on it for a couple of songs worth of time; you began to trick yourself into thinking you could handle anything, even while drunk.

But when you saw Baekhyun, a switch was flipped.

He was with some friends; the same ones as before. A group of rowdy young men you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet but he seemed quite close with them.

You saw them laughing together, exchanging in some sort of noisy banter; it felt quite different from the playful way he acted with you; this behavior seemed much more daring, much more primal. If you had to compare it with something you’d aliken it to a group of almost feral, unsupervised boys left to their own devices on a playground together. Had they been younger, you would not have been surprised at all to see blood drawn.

One such ‘game,’ (and you hesitated to use such a word as there were discernible no rules) involved messing with some party favor on the table in a way that was never intended to be used. The result was one unsuspecting member of the group, who hadn’t been paying enough attention to his friends given the amount of danger he should have felt by sitting beside them, this one poor man was smacked right in the back of the head. At least it didn’t seem too painful of a prop to turn into a weapon. He wasn’t the original target but had been smacked quite dramatically nonetheless for the crime of sitting too close to your sweet boyfriend who had actually been aiming for another person.

The result was the same. Someone was hit. Everyone erupted in raucous laughter and a swift punishment was enacted on the offender.

You watched as they all grabbed your boyfriend by the collar, bent him over at the waist and unleashed a folly of smacks upon his back.

The entire thing was loud and violent. Baekhyun’s yells could be heard over the music and he came back up pink in the face and laughing noisily ready for whatever revenge the rules of this game allowed.

There was alcohol involved too. Apparently there was some step in the game that involved shots of alcohol. You couldn’t make sense of any of it.

You knew you were staring but you felt enraptured by his behavior.

Who was this man?

Where did your boyfriend go?

Was this really the same tender man who held you in his arms and night and declared his never ending love and adoration for you?

He was noisy and crass and annoying and he delighted in the ridiculousness and stupidity of this whole thing.

You weren’t sure which one of them noticed you first. But there was a sudden and dramatic shift in the atmosphere that came over the entire group and it manifested as a literal wave of change that surged from person to person starting from someone in the far right edge.

There was straightening of suit jackets and smoothing of hairstyles that had been messed by the ruckus. There was frantic tapping and wide eyes that motioned in your direction followed immediately by whichever onlooker quickly looking toward Baekhyun. Hands were on him, someone was motioning in your direction and their faces had a look of urgency.

They were calling his attention to you because you were looking at him and this in itself was significant to this group of men.

You wondered what they knew about you and about Baekhyun. What all he had told them and was any of it was enough to be used against you in a court of law.

Baekhyun’s eyes found yours and you had already begun to make your way off the dance floor to the table where you’d kept your drink and your bag along with the other girls’ things and you watched the atmosphere of Baekhyun’s group take on a much more secretive vibe.

They were, every single one of them, absolutely terrible spies.

There was an intense whispering happening. It all felt very dramatic. There was someone slapping Baekhyun quite hard on the arm and laughing as if whatever situation he had been placed in was too funny for non-violent enjoyment and Baekhyun turned to the slapping man, quietly bickered back and forth in an annoyed and scolding manner.

Your table was very close to them all and you’d reached for your drink to take a sip when out of the corner of your eye you saw a genuine stumble as a human man surged in your direction.

Someone had pushed him.

They all turned to look away from you the moment you curiously looked at them and Baekhyun completed the two final steps that it took for him to be standing right beside you.

“So…” he said under his breath. He was whispering to you and his cheeks were as pink as his eyes were glassy. Baekhyun cleared his throat and inhaled again, keeping his voice very low so you were the only one who could hear him. “My friends are pressuring me to ask you to dance and it would make their fucking nights if you said yes.”

You were sipping on a beer and you peered your head around his shoulder, catching at least four faces seconds before they abruptly turned away.

You looked back into his face with genuine amusement and you quickly licked your lips and swallowed away how obviously entertained you were by this.

Baekhyun watched your face and a single eyebrow lifted over his eye before he inhaled to whisper again. “You see, they all think I have a crush on you,” he added.

You recognized the upper hand you had in this situation. Should you give them all what they wanted? A bunch of silly men who wanted nothing more than to encourage and possibly humiliate their friend with his little crush.

“Do you not have a crush on me?”

Baekhyun leaned then, allowing his whispered answer to heat the skin of your cheeks with every word that puffed from of his lips.

“Baby, I do not have a crush.” He said the word with a deep and significant drawn oh emphasis on the last word. Then, from parted lips came the air from deep within his lungs that fanned over your face and smelled like the usual sweet scent of him paired with an obvious scent of all of that alcohol that surfed through his bloodstream.

“I am in love with you,” he urged with his focus locked tightly with yours.

His eyes held onto yours until he leaned in close enough for the darkness in his whisper to coat the back of your neck with goosebumps.

“Dangerously,” he growled and when he pulled his face back and his eyelids sank down hard on the after effects of that one word that sounded more like a warning than a term of endearment.

You set the beer back down on the table and reached a hand out to lightly touch his forearm; letting your hand trail slowly down the length of his sleeve until you reached his fingers. From the table of men you heard light gasps

“Let’s make your friends happy then.”

The moment your hand made contact with his and you took that first step toward the dance floor you heard a sound like a commotion coming from the group of men. It was half a cheer and half a groan and you turned back to see several of them taking shots of alcohol and wincing as it went down.

You looked back at Baekhyun in surprise but your boyfriend's face was the absolute picture of innocence.

“Even this is part of the drinking game?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiled sweetly but his bottom lip twitched like it does when he’s being just a little less than honest.

The smallest laugh broke free from your chest. You didn’t want to encourage this, but dammit he was cute when he was acting up.

If either of you had been less intoxicated you might have worked out the timing of this better.

You hadn’t even noticed that the upbeat pop song was about to end until you’d pulled him well onto the dance floor and turned around to face him ready for some manager/ex-secretary appropriate moderately close enough to touch maybe hands and forearms and the occasional only when absolutely necessary waist or chaste hand on a shoulder dancing, when the final happy and peppy beats of the song ended and the lights in the room went surprisingly dim as the notes of a new song began.

If you’d been in your right mind you’d have waited before agreeing to dance with him until you’d cleared the song.

If you’d been in your right mind you might not have gotten genuinely excited once you realized that this particular song; this sexy sultry deep r&b beat and with sexier lyrics; this was a song that you, in fact, had danced to before.

You had, in fact, learned a set of moves to this song, a set of rather risqué and rather provocative moves that you’d learned as part of a group dance fitness class at your local gym, appropriately titled Bad Bitches Dance Fitness.

You had your doubts back when you clicked to sign up for the class. But the instructor had a way of bringing the bad bitch out of you. When the first notes of this song started and you set your face for this, you made sure you looked right into his eyes as you struck the first sexy pose that opened the dance, you learned that not only was the bad bitch still inside of you; but apparently all she needed was some alcohol to come out.

Baekhyun was surprised.

You could see it in his face. His eyes widened and his lips parted as his eyes followed your sexy little prance in a full circle around him and when you reached a fingertip to touch his lips, dragging it down slowly down his chin over his chest, opening your hand to scrape your fingernails straight down the length of him it took him an honest to god moment to recover and react.

You stopped at his belt, thank God — not through any good sense on your own part, but the next move of the dance required you to bend at the hips, slip a bare thigh out with a pointed toe and when you flipped your hair up and let your body roll all the way back up, it was against his warmth as you did it. It was punctuated by the sharp exhale you heard come out from his lungs and the desperate darkness you saw deep in his eyes. The dance went on. It was risky as all hell with plenty of touching and even more flaunting certain parts of your body for the man.

It was dark enough now that not every single bit of this could be seen from all parts of this grand ballroom. The dark lighting and occasional strobing lights gave the illusion of some privacy. His table of friends was close enough though. From somewhere in the direction of their table, you could make out the hoots and hollers from the group of young men who seemed to be very excited to have been the catalyst for this kind of situation.

Baekhyun kept up with you. Despite the fact that he did not know the dance; he was enough of a musician with an obvious background in dance as well to know what might come next. He knew how to anticipate your next move and he moved his body with yours, despite the occasional hard clench you saw in his jaw and sharp gasp for air he took when you did something particularly bad.

You lived for those moments. The bits where he was overcome and so close losing his control.

You didn't have to let your hands travel so slowly over him. You didn't have to grab ahold of your own breasts the way you had done and make an expression that very likely reminded him of fucking you. These bits were never covered in the class; but you had very much lost control over yourself to the alcohol.

Every one of his reactions made you smile. It was a satisfied, truly naughty smile and you looked into his eyes, laying another hand just over his chest as you leaned in close to his face. Your eyes slid from his eyes down to his lips and you leaned in so close. It was dangerous. You swore you could feel the breaths from his mouth against your own. You felt the body heat coming from his smooth skin. You could taste the sweetness of the alcohol on his labored breaths.

You turned your head at the last moment. It was all part of the dance. This was just part of the tease. If you had a chair to sit him down in, you might even sit on his lap, straddling his thighs, letting him feel the way your hips would roll into him to the beat of the music.

But Baekhyun didn’t know the dance. You gasped when your backward step was interrupted by his strong arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He pulled you back into him roughly and your legs parted enough for his firm thigh to slip fully in between your thighs. You felt the dress resist on one side but on the other, that damn slit gave you permission; encouraged you even, practically begged you to straddle his thigh and grind your hips against him. You rubbed against the heat between his legs and you felt him there. Hot and hard and so very teased by you — all night long — nearly at a limit. The temptation was stronger than anything you’d felt before. You wanted to feel that friction pressing into your skin. You wanted his stuttered moans pushed deep inside your ears when you ran the palm of your hand over the rigid shaft you felt below the suit fabric.

A pair of eyes to your left caught your attention. Someone had genuine curiosity written all over their face and someone else’s own dance was interrupted as their eyes wandered over to this strange pair of dancers who really ought not be so close to each other right now, not like this, not in public, not when they shared a strictly professional relationship that never ever crossed any lines. Sure it was quite dark and alcohol was likely the culprit but still…

You needed some distance. He was so warm and he felt so good and his hand around your waist had traveled, slipping his hot hand down your ass and over to grip roughly into the flesh of your bare thigh. You’d had enough sex with this man to know what sorts of touches were a prelude to something more. A touch like this, with as hard as he felt between his legs, this was him drunk and him much too affected by your teasing. This was him having had enough of this. This was him wanting to fuck you.

You felt his hot breath exhale slowly over your ear. There was a throaty moan at the end of it, “f-fuck, baby,” he whined.

This had to stop. You needed to get out of his arms. You took a step back, placing a firm hand against his abdomen, you pushed yourself back hard and you stepped out from between his legs; disguising the movement with another body roll thanks to the perfectly timed out-tro it fit perfectly with your exit.

You had to bite down on your lip and control your breaths. It felt like they were pushing and pulling at your lungs with too much force and Baekhyun’s eyes snapped quickly into yours with that same darkness deep within his blown out pupils.

Your focus was wandering. It had been too much. It had been too obvious. Anyone who had even half paid attention would be able to tell that not only were the two of you already quite deeply in love with each other but the chemistry you felt between him and yourself on this dancefloor alone surely would have told them all that the sex had to be mind blowing.

Your eyes caught movement at your table; of course you’d had plenty of witnesses there. Beside your table stood a group of silently staring men with mouths gaping too surprised to give any sort of reaction and back at your table, you watched sweet Sandi lift a hand to her mouth for a noisy wolf whistle and she started cheering and clapping. The girls beside her cautiously lifted their hands to clap and laugh and the encouragement had a sheepish smile pulling up to your lips and you gave the group the smallest little drunken courtesy. Leaning into their compliments as if you had intended to put on such a show with that dance all along.

Beside you, Baekhyun had a hand on his hip and had just ran a palm over the length of his face, no doubt doing his best job of fixing whatever expression he might have; whatever secrets he might accidentally be showing that should not be shown.

His lips pulled into a smile when you smiled at him and without any other moves to make that could signify to all of your onlookers that the make believe, pretend, it was all for show, movie scene was over now, you lifted a hand in his direction and held it up for a high five. A high five was just the move to get that point across. People that slept together regularly didn’t give each other high fives. This was as platonic a move as you could think of. You were sure he would tease you about this for weeks.

“Great dance!” You said through false brightness loud enough for all of the people waiting for you at your table to hear.

He looked at your hand and then back down at your face and back up at your hand again before he lifted his own hand to give you the weakest, most pathetic excuse for a high five that you've ever received from anyone. His face had the uncomfortable kind of wince that a teenager might sport after being embarrassed in front of their friends by a supremely uncool parent.

Back at the tables you both parted ways and in between Marci’s questions, drilling you about where you learned to dance like that, your ears caught the occasional low guffaws, snickers of laughter and teasing quips bellowing out from the group of men that accosted your boyfriend.

“Man…a high five.”

“That’s rough, buddy.”

There were side conversations and occasional condolences. Some of the men had more hope that others and you were pretty sure they didn’t realize just how loud they were all talking.

“Don’t give up hope, dude.”

“You see the way she dances tho?”

“She a baddie.”

“Way outta his league.”

“If a girl like that gave me a high five I’d just go home and never come out again.”

“Shhh — he’ll hear you.”

You reached for your clutch and pulled out your cell phone; keyed out a short text message and hit send as you pushed yourself up from your seat at your table and let the girls you were going to take a quick bathroom break.

Your message sat unread for long enough for you to make it clear across the dance floor toward the hallway with the bathrooms. You may have imagined it but you could practically feel the change the moment he had read it. You could feel the heat of his eyes watching as you walked away from him. When you rounded a corner you turned back and found his eyes easily as if you’d always known his focus would be only on you.

‘Bathroom by our patio has a lock’

You were walking through the lounge areas past the smaller groups of party goers who congregated there; seeking a little more peace and quiet for some whispered and intimate late night conversations.

Your feet carried you easily through the spaces and with each step as your heels hit the tile floor and echoed all around you it felt like the bang bang bang of a hammer as your hips swayed and you walked with the confidence of the kind of baddie who might propose a forbidden rendezvous such as this.

It was the alcohol. It was the dance. It was the way he smelled and the warmth of his breath as he moaned into your ear. It was the taste of the alcohol on his sweet breath as you inhaled against his face. It felt forbidden, doing something like that with the eyes of so many people on you both. It was the grip of his fingertips as he held onto your thigh and pulled you hard against his dick.

There was no one around. You’d journeyed through several spaces that were completely empty by the time you reached this bathroom door. You pushed the door open and stepped inside rewarded with the silence you knew you’d find in here.

This was a big party but this hotel was so massive the odds of any lost guests finding their way to this end of the building were astronomically small.

The inside of this bathroom had a cozy yet still tasteful feeling. You could tell it was a luxury hotel by the heated hand towels neatly rolled on the surface of the immaculately clean countertop and the floor to ceiling wooden doors that closed off the bathroom stalls. You walked by the cushioned bench and full length mirrors to stand in front of the sinks.

Your reflection looked back at you and you scrutinized the expression you saw in your own eyes. You hardly recognized yourself. Your skin was just a little bit damp looking from the dancing and you were flushed all over. The flush seemed to be more than just from the alcohol, more than just from the dancing and the exertion. It took a couple of deep breaths through your parted lips and a couple of blinks and only then did your mind clear enough for you to actually see yourself clearly. So this is what you looked like to him. So this was the look in your eyes when you wanted him badly enough to seek out a place of privacy even if that place was a bathroom of all places.

You had to inhale a deep breath and look away from the mirror. You felt too crazed for this level of self discovery. You could feel the desperation bubbling up to your surface, your own once carefully curated resolve made so flimsy and weak by a little alcohol … and by him. The light was bright but not harsh and you leaned a hip against the marble countertop as you watched the door for signs of movement.

Baekhyun’s arrival at that bathroom door came with a sound first. Two soft knocks against the wood made with a single knuckle.

You leaned forward and pulled the door handle open and he stumbled a bit until he was leaning against the open doorway with his eyes cast downward, not yet looking at you and definitely not coming inside with nearly the urgency that you would have expected of him right now.

You reached a hand out and grabbed ahold of his. He gave you his hand without protest and when you pulled you had his eyes looking up into yours as he took two steps inside where you urged until he was standing fully inside this silent space in front of you. The door closed behind him.

His brown eyes were on you and his lips were parted as he breathed through those parted lips and after a few moments of watching your face in silence he closed up his mouth and his head sagged back just a little bit.

Having him here in front of you did something to the anxious energy you’d been feeling before he came in. He wasn’t touching you at all except with his eyes but just looking at his beautiful face pulled a smile to your lips and you backed against that countertop again and leaned against it as you simply let the warm feeling take over your chest as the smile grew.

His expression was changing. His face had looked quite collected and controlled when he came in here but the longer he looked at you the more you saw. His focus refused to stay up in your eyes as his had dropped slowly over the length of your body.

“You —” he breathed out with his eyes down on your bare thighs, “you might actually kill me tonight.” He pulled his eyelids up and narrowed his focus on your face as he spoke.

“You know exactly what you’ve been doing to me. Looking like this — in this fucking dress. Dancing like that. Teasing me and then leaving me. Making me — making me desperate.” His hands flew around with every other sentence, pointing and gesturing all over as he ranted.

You felt an unparalleled satisfaction from hearing his many complaints about you from tonight. You knew you were acting up. You knew you had been teasing him and then leaving him wrecked and part of you had been so very weak to him that you simply could not keep yourself under control around him, not when you had been drinking so much. Your only link to reality had been those moments when faced with the very real possibility of exposing your entire relationship to everyone in here that you retreated from him. Running away, giggling the entire time for just how very naughty you were being.

You couldn't stop.

It was wrong of you.

But it was fun. He was fun to tease and the long list of grievances he was airing right now only pulled your lips into a wider smile that you tried your absolute best to bite down on to blank away. It didn’t work, of course. He saw.

“And you’re smiling,” he said with a lift of his eyebrows and his lips pulling into a smile that didn’t have any humor behind it. He closed his eyes as he lifted a hand to rub over the length of his face.

The same naughtiness that you felt pulling at your strings and making you do these terrible, awful, inappropriately teasing things to him all night long pushed you to take a step forward, into his space.

You reached a hand out and dragged your fingers down the front of his shirt. You could feel the warmth of his chest below the fabric. You moved your hand lightly down the length of him dragging fingers along the edge of his necktie, reaching the very end of it you felt the folded edge of the fabric; that strip of unassuming fabric that moved with his breathing. With your fingers at the bottom you only lightly touched the very tip of his tie, the arrow that pointed downward, that part that laid just above his belt. You touched this spot again and again, letting your aim grow sloppy; letting your wandering hand graze lightly below the metal buckle of his belt and all of the warmth and heat you felt there.

“I’m going to get my hands on you,” his lips pursed and he blew out a stuttered breath that shook his bottom lip on the exit and he bit down on his lip briefly as his eyes followed your moving finger. His lips flew open and his tongue darted out to dampen the dryness on his bottom lip before he inhaled a sharp breath to continue his threat, “and there won’t be any stopping me. There will be no party we have to get back to. No songs that just ended.”

“No… fucking … high fives.” He exhaled through the curse word and you took a step into him.

You hooked his belt buckle with your index finger and gave the smallest tug, pulling your bottom lip into the smallest little pout you could manage as you looked down. You should probably pretend to be at least a little bit sorry. It took you a few moments to really sink that pout in deep and it managed to stay put when you looked back up into his face.

Baekhyun scoffed and he shook his head in disbelief. He lifted a hand up your face, bouncing the tip of his index finger lightly twice over the softness of your bottom lip.

“What are you doing? What is that?” His brows were furrowed and his teeth bared, “are you — are you pouting right now? Do you have something to pout about? Something like, oh, I don’t know, a three hour boner, perhaps?”

Your silly attempt at repentance vanished and you pulled your chin inward with the smallest itty bitty eye roll escaping against your will and through the doubts you clearly displayed on your face you mumbled under your breath, “I don't think — it was that long—”

Baekhyun's face flattened. His eyelids and his eyebrows settled into a completely serious expression and you could still feel the doubts and disbelief bouncing around inside of your head, “I mean…three hours—”

Baekhyun’s sudden movement cut off whatever nonsense you were speaking and he grabbed ahold of your right hand, pulled it forward palm open and he planted your hand squarely on top of his, very obviously, fully erect dick. The interruption and presentation of evidence pulled your jaw open as you held him in the palm of your hand and slowly moved upward along the shape of him.

“Did anyone see you come in here after me?” Your whispered question had pulled his eyes open. They had drifted closed with you touching him like this. As it was now, you hadn’t located his tip as he seems to have tucked himself somewhere behind his belt in attempt to just live with his new reality and what you had done to him.

“No idea,” he breathed through short gasps.

Your hand had reached as high as you could move without removing his belt and slowly, with firmer pressure, you moved your hand back down. You felt the push he gave with his hips into your touch.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked it with much of that same teasing smile on your voice and he shook his head quickly back and forth as his left hand flew up to lean against the bathroom door. After a few seconds you heard an audible click when he locked it.

You gasped in surprise when he moved and reached for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and easily lifting you up to sit on the marble countertop. The stone was freezing beneath your bare thighs and your skirt moved up high enough for a peek of your panties to show. It didn’t matter, he pushed his hips between your parted legs with the same roughness as he handled you. He pulled you into him with strong arms and fingertips that dug into your ass and every push, every bit of friction had your legs parting more; had you needing more than what was possible through the layers of clothing that separated your bodies.

“No,” he leaned in close to your face and spoke in a dark whisper, “but I might want to disrespect you a little while I fuck you.”

You didn’t have any time to form a response because his open mouth covered your own. He kissed you roughly and deeply. His mouth devoured yours hungrily and all you could do was gasp for air when he pulled back, sucking your bottom lip deep inside with the pull of his mouth until he let up enough only for his teeth to bite down. You tasted alcohol on his tongue and on his breath and you imagined you tasted the same.

You felt the culmination of tonight’s frustrations in his kiss. You felt consumed and had by him and when the hollow of his mouth released its hold on, you gasped out loud to feel his lips at your neck seconds before those same parted lips hovered just over the skin right above your jugular. He seemed to play with you there, his lips popping light kisses; his tongue darting out to taste the saltiness of your skin and only when you’d let yourself drift into this tenderness, only when you’d relaxed your shoulders and leaned into him as he kissed and tasted your skin, only then did he do it. Without warning; with the next soft and contented moan that left your lips his muscles tensed around you and his fingertips dug in hard again. At the same time, he pushed his face into your neck, right on the same spot he had been tasting, he suddenly bit down. His hard wet teeth were sinking in deep and he was biting down very hard. He made your breath catch in your throat. Your gasp was a half whine, half whimper interrupted by the shock of the pain you felt when he did it. He made your brain feel fuzzy and dizzy. Maybe it was the surprise, or the alcohol or maybe you hadn’t had enough of a chance to catch your breath.

You would have a mark — red or even the blue color of blood vessels burst just below the surface of your skin. You would touch lightly at this spot and feel a slight tinge from this.

Oh, he was everywhere.

You were quickly overwhelmed.

You could feel your heart racing inside of your chest and that overwhelming feeling felt like it might just burst through your skin. Every touch felt like more than the previous. He was constricting and tightening and he was lifting and pulling and pushing and the room spun; it spun in the confines of this tiny bathroom it spun and it seemed to come to some sort of a comeuppance. He was standing and lifting, his arms clung so tightly around your waist you lost the air inside of your lungs and when you opened your eyes he had found the padded bench and perched you right on top of his lap. You had somehow lost the panties.

“I want to fuck you so badly,” his breathing was rapid and heavy and his face was buried somewhere in your chest. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“You have to take your pants off first.” Your breath caught when you felt his mouth open up over your nipple; right on top of the sticker that covered it and he pulled it into his mouth, sucking, soaking it with his spit and biting with his teeth.

“You’ve got me so fucked. I’m going to cum the second I get inside of you.”

He won. His efforts won over the stupid sticker and you felt the sting of the sticky glue pull hard against your skin; against the most sensitive spots. “I don’t want that. I’m not ready for this to be over.”

You cried out from the pain as he ripped it off with his teeth in a single motion. “You feel so good. You taste so good. You’re so fucking hot.”

As quickly as the sticker was gone and the sting radiated through your nerve endings his mouth was there, pulling your breast into his hot mouth, sucking and biting. Pulling away and leaving you soaked.

You moved your hips over his lap. The firmness lined up perfectly with you; everything about Baekhyun always fit you perfectly. You could feel that desperate friction bumping against your clit with each pass. You chased that feeling, grinding your hips over him again and again, pressing your center atop his stiffness and delighting in the wild grunts that escaped the back of his throat as you did it.

”Don’t,” he breathed out, “don’t you dare,” he was whining with his arms wound around you tight, holding you down, making you stop the movements. You knew what he was saying. You could feel the change in him.

“So take them off, Baek.”

You pushed off of him first. With the way this was going he would cum in his pants before you got to feel him inside of you. His arms relaxed enough to let you go and you stood in front of him, the dress somehow still on, although pushed up very high on your thighs, but both shoulder straps pulled down and your bare breasts exposed, every single mark from his mouth and fingertips flashed flush and hot on your skin. You still had on the stilettos and he stared at you blinking and breathing and begging himself for just a few more minutes of control.

With each of his breaths came small facial twitches. His eyelids pulled down on the exhale and his eyebrows pulsed on his forehead. His eyes closed and opened again and his lips twitched, “You are unfair,” he whispered.

At last, you heard his movement. His hands were at his belt and the quick sounds of that metal buckle and the slide of his zipper resisted against the pressure behind it. He lifted himself into an unsteady standing position and pushed the pants off completely, leaving them crumbled on the floor beside the suit jacket, and the tie, and the shoes.

You lifted a hand behind the dress to find the zipper.

“Leave it on,” he said, reaching for you with both hands; you were spun in place and the heat and warmth of the length of his body warmed your back as his hands wrapped around your waist, one gripping your breast roughly and the other he slipped down between your legs. He coated your back. Behind you, behind your ass you felt him slipping easily between your legs. You were too wet for any resistance at all.

You were moving. He was walking and pushing you forward back toward that padded bench he had been sitting on but his fingers slipped within your wetness as he did it, bumping against your already too wet; too worked up center made it so hard to focus on much.

He moved you; pushing your shoulders down and holding your waist up tight, making you bend down in front of him and your hands hit the bench in front of you, your knees resting on the edge of it and your ass in the air. There wasn’t any dinigity in this. This was fucking. It was desperate and animalistic. His palms ran over the curve of your ass, pushing the fabric of your dress out of the way, slipping fingers in between your legs roughly as he did it. You felt more than desperate. Each of his touches was superficial. Each time, not quite enough. He was so close to you though and his knee nudged hard against the inside of your own knee, making you spread your legs further for him.

Baekhyun was shuffling behind you. Fidgeting with something and whatever it was, it didn’t last long enough for you to care because he was back behind you, this time his movements felt more purposeful. You felt the pad of his thumb dip between your folds and he rubbed over your clit. It made you whimper and moan and push back into him. He knew how to make you cum but he wasn’t doing it. Perhaps it was to buy himself some time to calm down. Maybe he was paying you back for all of the teasing.

“Baby, you are dripping.”

You knew you were. You could feel it. With how long and drawn out this evening had been; with how much you had been denied by him; you were sure you’d be a complete mess.

You felt the soft roundness of the tip of him, slipping in between your wetness as he pushed himself between your folds. This — this was what you needed. This was what you wanted him to do. The action made you squirm and push against him. You needed to feel this again. As he pushed in again, he was also touching you only this time you heard something unexpected. It was a striking and familiar sound that rang out. You knew this sound. This was a cell phone camera shutter. It made your eyes open back up and you looked behind yourself for answers.

Baekhyun was holding your phone and he leaned to reach for you; covering your entire back with his heat and weight he pushed the phone screen forward into your line of sight and you saw it. You saw the picture he had taken with your own cell phone. “Do you see how fucking pretty you look? So wet and needy.” His whisper into your ear had you reeling. He was still moving behind you, pushing his tip against your clit again and again; but not yet entering you.

Your eyes took in the image on your phone screen. His dick in the shot, pushing inside your wetness. Each push from him felt that much more intense with this image in front of you. You felt close to losing control and your eyes drifted closed as you dropped your head and gripped the sides of the bench tightly.

“Do you want a video?” He whispered this next question just at the moment when you felt the building pressure from his actions against your clit. He knew he was bringing you closer as he asked you this question. Your head was swimming. You couldn't process what he was asking you. “Do you want to see what I see when I fuck you?”

Did you want that?

Did you?

You reached for the phone, grabbed it and held it up for him to take. You felt his thumb replace his dick and he was rubbing again. The wetness between your legs increased and your breathing grew frantic.

“Is that a yes? Can I record a video of me fucking you?”

You nodded your head. You already felt it. Your legs were shaking and you felt the trembling as the wave of climax took your breath and your functioning mind and you cried out. It took you a second before you opened your eyes and your phone was gone from your hand.

He pushed inside of you then; in a single rough fluid motion and the inundation took you by surprise, making you cry out again. The sounds, the low grunts with his effort, the deep moans of pleasure, the whispered curses that flew from his mouth, all of the sounds from him hit you just as hard as each rough thrust into you. You felt a mess. The slight pain mixed with pleasure you felt with each thrust had you grasping to hold on to something. There was a new sensation. Something different and unexpected and he did something with his hand, pressing with his thumb in between your ass as he fucked you and you felt crushed; you felt dizzy and overcome and he was shaking and trembling; holding on so tightly to you in this way that made you lose every single thought inside of your head along with every bit of oxygen inside of your lungs.

You both must have lost your damn minds, doing this here, in this place.

You knew the oxygen must have been returning because this thought popped into your head after a few moments of clarity. Baekhyun plopped himself down onto the bench beside you and wrapped his arms around you waist, pulling you to sit down on top of his bare lap. You could still feel the mess spreading between your skin and his skin but you were too spent to care much. He was holding you tightly into him and you leaned your head back to rest against his shoulders, leaning your temple against his.

In front of you Baekhyun held up your phone. The screen was illuminated with the filthiest thumbnail of a video you’ve ever seen in your entire life, outside of occasionally desperate porn videos that you watched sometimes when you were lonely and frustrated with life.

You could feel every rough exhale from his lungs warming your neck and you turned your head to look at his profile out of the corner of your eye.

He pressed play on the video and it came to life, the real life, sinful sounds of the sex you’d just had with him. You felt oddly transfixed watching this. Not nearly as embarrassed to have this view of yourself as you thought you might have been and you felt even more surprised to see what he had done while in the height of both of your orgasms that had pushed you so over the edge at the time. The ball of spit from his mouth that landed right over your asshole. The thumb he pushed inside. Your mouth flew open and you turned to look at him.

His eyes were down on the phone and he was blinking slowly as he licked his lips and bit down. You lifted a finger to point at the screen.

“Is that what that was?” It came out as less accusatory and more of a curiosity. And you saw the tiniest grin pull at the corner of his mouth before he leaned his chin over and playfully bit you on the shoulder.

“Can I have this video too?” He whispered the tiny request and looked over at you after you didn’t respond immediately. “You can say no.” He said softly with a shrug. “You can just delete it if you want to.”

“Don't forget to delete it again from your recently deleted folder, if you do.” Something in his voice sounded quite pathetic and sad as he reminded you about the importance of being diligent when deleting your sex tapes. “I’m sorry I got drunk and spit on you and put my thumb in your butt and made a drunk sex tape with you, if that’s what you’re being quiet about.”

You covered your mouth just in time to catch the snort of laughter that erupted from your chest. This man’s post nut clarity was hitting him very hard and very quickly. From between your legs, and all over his bare lap you felt the wetness move out of you with every laugh and his face turned into a genuine wince as he seemed to hold his breath when he felt it too. You tried your best to stop the laughing but you were too amused by this nonsense.

“You can send it to yourself,” you finally said after recovering from the manic giggling. “I’m not being quiet. I am in shock.”

He bit down on the inside of his bottom lip and the smile on his face grew wide and self satisfied and he was moving his hands very quickly over your phone screen as if you might change your mind and take it back any second now.

“But you liked it,” he sing-songed with a playful shake of his head and you heard a buzz somewhere from the floor where his own phone was still tucked away inside his pocket.

“I have it now,” he said triumphantly and he abruptly turned his head to face you with a bright playfulness deep within his eyes. You looked back at him curiously, feeling that something was brewing here.

His smile widened and he, very slowly, and very annoyingly, lifted a hand up into the air in front of you, palm facing you. He held it up with that same wide smile on his face. This wasn’t a sweet smile. This was a teasing smile. His eyes were full of mischief.

“Great sex,” he whispered and those same eyes looked crazed as he motioned toward his waiting hand with the smallest whine that came from the back of his throat when you didn’t instantly give him what he wanted. He gave his raised hand the smallest shake for emphasis.

“I’m not doing that,” you said, pulling yourself up off his lap as you headed away from him toward the bathroom stall so you could clean up the mess you had all over the lower half of your body.

“Oh come on,” he said, standing up and following you. “Do it. Great sex. I said ‘Great sex.’ You have to do it. I feel,” he inhaled a trembling and very dramatic breath, “extremely cheated right now.” His hand was still up and he was chasing you around the bathroom with it.

You tried to close the stall door but he pushed his thigh through the space and after a few seconds you saw that same hand push through, palm up, stupid and expecting — no — demanding that you cooperate.

You would never know peace in your entire life if you didn’t do this.

You were also certain that you would never know peace in your entire life if you did it too, because both scenarios would encourage his ridiculousness.

You lifted the quickest hand and slapped his palm.

“Woo!” He shouted, “Got the high-five!”

[coffe-book-club]

✩‧₊ coffee, coffee, coffee *༄

info: boss tom kaulitz x staff manager fem! reader

summary: your boyfriend and boss of the coffee shop where you work, decides to take away your role as staff manager after you broke two coffee cups, without even notifying you.

disclaimers: none in particular, just a little bit of agnst and a little bit of a love quarrel. mini one shot

the moon had taken over the dark blue sky adorned with numerous shining stars, it was now closing time and i was near the counter bending over the floor to pick up the ceramic shards of the cappuccino cups.

by mistake a boy had bumped into her and with the loss of balance the tray had slipped from her hands and she had dropped the cups, her owner was finishing cleaning the shot glasses and was watching her in silence, but she knew he was angry.

tom was walking towards her with an expression of fury, his lips were clenched together and his cheeks were flushed, the other employees looked on in shock, this is the first time they saw him angry. tom looked at her for a few seconds before asking her in an ice-cold voice: “how dare you be so clumsy?!”

she look up slightly, her face flushed with embarrassment as she continue to put the ceramic shards back on the plastic tray. “i didn't do it on purpose, i'm sorry”

since they had started hang out outside of work, he had started to be much more strict with her at work. tom stayed quiet for a few seconds as he looked at her with a cold and sharp expression, he let out a sharp inhale before speaking again: “i don’t care if you did it on purpose or not, but this is unacceptable! how dare you be so clumsy?!”

he kept staring at her with that same sharp and cold expression that seemed to pierce right through her, other employees watched nervously as they feared that he’ll blow his top and fire her.

a small sigh leaves her lips making her look down again as she finish picking up all the ceramic shards. they had spent a quiet morning together, they had slept together the previous night and then went to breakfast together and now he was angry with her. “i'm sorry”

tom let out a small grunt of irritation before speaking again with a cold and sharp tone: “well, you should be.” he stayed quiet for a few seconds as he stared at her again before speaking again with a little less sharp tone: “do you know how much those cups cost?”

he stayed quiet for another few second as he stared at you with a cold expression, he then finally said with an annoyed tone: “they’re expensive, you have to be aware of that!” he stayed quiet again for a few second before speaking again but with a bit less of an annoyed tone: “i’m going to take the cost of those cups out of your pay, are we clear?”

a light snort leaves her lips it wasn't the first time he deducted money from her paycheck even when it wasn't her fault, she was the staff manager and every time someone made a mistake she had to pay the consequences. even though tom and her were dating.

as soon as she finish collecting all the ceramic shards from the two cappuccino cups, she straighten herself up again with the plastic tray in her hands, placing it on the bar counter, and then pass tom to go get the broom and dustpan from the closet. “don't you think you're exaggerating? they were cappuccino cups not crystal goblets, you will buy others again...”

she answer him in a flat tone of voice going towards the changing rooms where there is a small closet nearby where inside there is the counter and the cleaning products, the broom and the mop. my colleagues didn't say a word, they remained silent as they finished cleaning the cafè.

tom stayed silent for a few seconds, he seemed to be thinking about what you said, he then spoke again with an annoyed tone: “oh, so now you’re trying to tell me how to run my business? this is why i deduct money from your pay, you seem to think that you can just do whatever you like” he stayed quiet again for a few seconds as he looked at her with that same sharp and cold stare, she began hearing the other employees whisper around her.

she avoided replying so as not to have to continue arguing with him, walking past him without even turning to look at him. going along a small corridor to go to the back bar where there is the wrong room for the employees and next to the small closet, to take the broom and the red plastic dustpan. the closet had no windows, it was small and gave off a slight smell of a closed and slightly dusty room.

tom seemed annoyed by her not replying but he didn’t say anything else as he stared at her and she walked past him, he seemed to be thinking as he watched her.

the small room where you went to was in the corner of the coffee shop, it was a tiny room with no windows and it smelled slightly dusty as her picked up the red plastic dustpan and broom to clean up the broken cappuccino cups.

through a text message from a colleague of hers. she learned that her boyfriend, before closing the bar, had made some phone calls to look for someone to replace her and take over her role as manager of his employees, after four months' training and half.

when she read that message she had just returned home and her heart sank into an abyss of sadness. she had always been committed to her work, trying to give her best and make the work of her colleagues easier, always taking responsibility for their mistakes and tom hadn't even told me about it, he had just acted. tom had decided to replace her because he felt that she were too lenient with the employees and he was becoming tired of her letting them get away with small mistakes, so he decided to hire someone who would take over her role as manager and be more strict with the employees as he felt that’s what his business needed. he hadn’t told her because he didn’t want to make it seem like he was replacing her because he was tired of her, he just wanted to appear professional and didn’t want to make it seem personal.

hi 🍒 how are you? it's been a very intense week at work and now i find myself with absurd pain in my feet, shoulders and arms 🥲 but right now my dear mother is making strawberry jam in the tavern and the house is filled with that delicious aroma of sweetened strawberries with an aftertaste of vanilla, which makes my mouth water. anyway, i had this one shot in the drafts for some time and i couldn't wait to publish it, because years ago i read a fan-fiction on the wattpad platform starring kim taehyung (v) of bts and as the main place it was a coffee shop. i hope you have a wonderful day. xoxo flo.

[copperbadge]

Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

A note before we begin: I understand that sometimes people look askance at some of the fundraisers. I do attempt to vet people, but I also attempt to practice a radical level of acceptance and compassion for people who are in need, who may not always be people everyone likes. It is up to my readers to determine where and if they want to give; I have only ever declined to publicize fundraisers twice, both by people with extensive and visible histories of scamming fandom. If you know of someone who has a history of scamming, it is helpful for me to be made aware, but unless there are receipts to go with it, I'm afraid I can't take that into account. Simply telling me "so-and-so is a bad person" does not help. (Lest I start more drama, this is not isolated to this week's post, it's just a particularly unhelpful comment this week which spurred me to write this.)

And now on to more helpful things!

Ways to Give:

maryellencarter linked to a fundraiser for johnhawkens, who is about to lose his temporary housing and needs assistance with food and transportation. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

just_juniper_joy is raising $350 to get through a lapse in emergency assistance; they are currently waiting for disability paperwork to go through and in the process of renewing the emergency aid in the meantime, but their county office is moving slowly, and they need to pay for medication, phone, and internet, as well as rent. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

aurorlaura linked to a fundraiser for Alchemia and Bugland, who have urgent financial needs after the loss of their home, and are also looking for advocacy and legal support in Illinois, particularly support for people with disabilities, autism, blindness, and/or who are LGBTQ+. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

nightwhite13 is raising funds to help seal a hole in their home through which a rat is entering; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

Beck is raising funds for top surgery; you can read more and support the fundraiser here.

just-a-zesty-lil-rat is raising funds to cover a medical deductible so they can get top surgery; you can read more and support the fundraiser here.

catlineyemaker linked to a fundraiser for gallusrostromegalus, who recently rented a home to a friend who ended up doing serious damage to the home and required legal action to evict; they can't sell the house as-is and can't afford the repairs needed to make the house salable. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

Buy Stuff, Help Out:

have-a-hygge is an artist selling her work to raise funds to open her own gallery, a task complicated by being a fulltime caregiver to a parent with dementia. You can read more and find purchase and giving information here.

Help For Free:

Maggie is a graduate student at American University, doing research on fanfic and the way people learn about sex and sexuality as teenagers. They have a survey available about experiences reading or writing fanfic and how it impacted their sexuality and understanding of sex, which may lead to interviews if the person is agreeable; all interviews are anonymized. You can learn more and take the survey here.

Recurring Needs:

rusty-chevy's workplace is in a slow period, and management has been cutting hours; she is raising funds to cover at least part of the shortfall from reduced paychecks, and was just denied rent assistance. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

alirhi linked to a fundraiser to get herself, her mother, and her sister stable housing; they are currently staying in their cars in a a dangerous parking lot. They have a friend who will let them park a camper in her yard, but the camper there currently is unlivable. With two of the family on disability it is difficult for them to keep up with bills and also save for housing. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here including a few new ways to give.

gwydion linked to a fundraiser for a friend, whose dog Rosie needs medical care, dental work, and special food; you can read more and give here at gofundme.

rilee16 is raising funds after having to use rent money to pay their electric bill; their roommate, with whom they have had a number of issues, has been an ongoing issue and is also costing them money, and they are now facing a late fee for October rent after the check didn't clear. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

[marmaladeinlemonade]

Mouthwashing is very realistic with its characters

-and their behaviors which lead to the tragedies in game, especially with curly. But i also believe the societal expectations curly had on top of his natural traits was what lead to curly's horrific, but realistic, demise. (Poorly thought out)

As a captain, Curly is expected to maintain peace amongst members of the ship or else collective punishment will be enforced and paychecks will be deducted if conflict breaks out between them. Because of this system i think curly came to be quite a centrist when it came to sorting out problems, often believing that the solution is somewhere between the two sides of conflict. For the most part, this had worked because there was no personal relationships Curly had between his coworkers and therefore no bias. Curly became accustomed to this way of approaching conflict.

As a man, and a friend, Curly and J-diddy Jimmy were close. I have no doubt in my mind that jimmy still struggled with self esteem, masculinity, and mental health long before he joined Pony express. (THIS IS NOT JUSTIFICATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!PLEASE!!!!!!) With jimmy, Curly could take his time and help Jimmy out little by little without making jimmy snap. It was separate from the corporate professionalism Curly had to enforce upon himself and his crew @ Pony Express. Curly could be a little biased. It's his close friend, after all. And as we see in everyday society, people excuse their friends (especially those who are struggling) for small socially unacceptable behaviors because we see a better version of them in our personal lives. This is amplified between two male best friends especially if one or both of them display misogynistic behaviors.

Jimmy is very insecure about his life as we see in game and seemed embarrassed at the idea of getting help. In the mouthwashing prequel "How Fish Is Made" curly talks about how he convinced jimmy to take the Pony Express job, its implied that Jimmy was struggling financially beforehand as well. Then, in Mouthwashing when Curly gets the news of the company's shutdown Jimmy belittles Curly, pointing out how Pony Express was meant to be an opportunity for the crewmates that is now lost and there is no safety net to catch them, while for Curly this layoff might all be but a relief from the repetitive lifestyle he had with his job. Curly does little to nothing in these scenes and when i see this happen i wonder what Curly saw as "peace" between him and jimmy. Peace is when there is no suffering. Often times peace is mistaken for one party suffering in silence while the other doesn't acknowledge any issues at all.

Jimmy was a very biased and personal part of curly's life and Curly, with his already empathetic personality, pulled Jimmy into his unbiased workplace in hopes that he'd change, not recognizing Jimmy's discomfort, aka insecurity, with being lended a helping hand. When Curly was hit with the horrible news about Anya and jimmy, i believe his mind went haywire.

Curly was suffering in silence from jimmy's behavior.

Anya was suffering in silence from Jimmy's behavior.

Jimmy was suffering in silence from, well, his own ego refusing to accept help which was encouraged by societal norms.

And Curly had mistaken it for peace.

Ts was kinda ass ngl

[sapphire-weapon]

so in former cult news

i work with several former cultists at my current job, and here's a conversation i just had with one of them at the end of the day today. let's call him G.

G: so i tried to do my taxes over the weekend Me: (immediately loses all expression in my face because boy do i not want to talk about someone's fucking taxes) G: couldn't do them though G: it turns out that i had been paying for insurance for the past year and a half at the old place but i was never actually covered Me: Me: Me: WHAT G: yeah. i never got a 1095 from them, and when i called to get my paperwork, they said they didn't have any. Me: ???????????? G??????????? ARE YOU KIDDING ME??????? G: yeah. i can't believe i did that... that i let it go for that long without noticing. Me: WAIT, STOP Me: G, CULT LEADER DOESN'T PAY INTO THE HEALTH INSURANCE AT THAT PLACE. YOU WERE PAYING OUT OF POCKET. I KNOW HOW MUCH THAT COVERAGE COSTS EVERY MONTH. IF YOU PAID INTO THAT FOR OVER A YEAR WITHOUT COVERAGE, CULT LEADER OWES YOU LIKE $6400. G: well. i called the insurance company. i tried three different numbers. two of them said they couldn't help me. the third one told me i had to call my employer. Me: oh no... G: so. G: i called my employer. Me: oh my goD? G: Assistant Manager told me that the accountant said that i had to call the insurance company. i told him i did that, and he came back to me with "the cult doesn't pay into your insurance. you paid for it. so you should see the deductions being taken out on your paystub." Me: ... and? G: that's it. that's all he said. Me: the issue isn't if the money was taken out -- you know that the money was taken out. the issue was that you weren't covered! Assistant Manager fucking knows better! G: i know. it's just pure spite and pettiness. G: but now i don't know what to do. Me: G, you call a lawyer. G: i don't know... Me: what do you mean, you don't know?? Me: Cult Leader is NEVER going to pay you that money on his own. P had to threaten him with a lawyer to get his final paycheck, and this is WAY MORE MONEY than that. this is theft. Cult Leader STOLE IT FROM YOU. G: i just don't see how i could possibly win against someone with his kind of money, is all. Me:

G: well. i'll think about it, i suppose. G: thanks, sirea. G: (clocks out and goes home) Me: Me: Me: Me:

[wordsonamission]

47 for icemav?

Thanks so much for sending a number! I hope you like this one, it was tough to write. I haven't done sad in a while . . .

#47: I would give up anything to see you again

Maverick cleared his throat roughly. “So, the mission was a success. Site destroyed, everyone back on the ship, three enemy fifth gen fighters shot down.” He dropped his gaze, rocking back and forth on his heels. “There were some . . . complications. Bradley ran out of flares on the way back. I covered him with the cobra maneuver. I know, I know,” a small and rueful smile split his face, “that’s too dangerous. And it was. I took out the missile locked on him but another one got me.”

The silence following his words was deafening. “I had to. You know I had to. Bradley needed me and I –” Maverick’s voice broke. “There was no way he was going down when I was still in the air. He was my wingman. And I don’t leave my wingman behind.” Maverick scrubbed a tear off of his cheek, a muscle clenching in his jaw.

“Landing was hell. Hit my head funny and blacked out for a minute. I got lucky and landed near the enemy base. There was a helicopter out to find my landing site. That would have been the end of me,” Maverick chuckled darkly, “but Bradley wouldn’t go back to the carrier. He defied direct orders from command and circled back. Shot the helicopter clean out of the sky. His first air combat kill.”

Maverick glanced up at the sky. His stomach twisted as he registered the familiar blue/grey color. “He was shot down right after that. So that’s two F-18s lost, the other two with frames bent all to hell from the climb out. Do you think Cyclone will deduct that from my paycheck?” He tried to laugh but didn’t quite manage. “I saw his chute, so I ran to him. Bradley was fine, just a little banged up, nothing major. We infiltrated the base and they had a Tomcat gassed up and ready to go. Just like old times.” The ancient creases around his eyes deepened as a genuine smile bloomed.

“Somehow we got it in the air. Everything in the back was gone, so we were flying blind, and I took out the landing gear on takeoff from the taxiway because the runway was bombed. There was a roving patrol we had to deal with, too.” This time Maverick’s laugh succeeded and warmth lit up his face. “God, it felt good. Nothing I’ve ever flown has ever felt like a Tomcat in a dogfight.”

 Maverick was lost in thought for a long minute. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes, steeling himself, as deep grief settled on his face. “I finally talked to Bradley. About the Academy, and Carole, and everything else. He was angry, of course, but not in the same way as before. I think we’re finally getting somewhere. Maybe . . . maybe this is the start of something new. He’s grown so much since then, and I wish I – but maybe there’s a place for me in his life going forward now. And that’ll be enough.”

He wiped his face again, needing several deep breaths before he could talk again. “I didn’t think I was coming back. As soon as Cyclone made me team leader, I knew that was my fate. On the carrier, going through pre-flight, choosing the team, I knew it was the end. It was finally my time. But now,” Maverick blinked fast to clear his eyes, “now I’m not so sure. Somehow, I’m still here. I would give up anything to see you again, but you were right. I hate how you’re always right.”

A sob burst out of Maverick’s mouth. He bit at his fist to fight back the sound, but his shoulders shook with the force of his tears. “You should be here. Why was I the one to come back, why am I still alive?” There was no answer in the light breeze that stirred his hair, as soft as a lover’s touch.

“I gotta go. Bradley’s having me over tonight. We have a lot of catching up to do.” With trembling hands, Maverick leaned down and touched the smooth white stone. He laid a challenge coin on top. “Bates gave me this. He figured you already had several of these old Tomcat coins, but what’s one more for the collection?” Maverick snorted wetly and then sighed. “I love you, Ice. And I’ll be seeing you, though I guess not as soon as I thought.”

[justplainwhump]

oooooohhh "If you don't do it, I will." for Tyler perhaps 👀 -vic

Faces

Thank you for that ask, @wildfaewhump! I'm using it for the next chapter of Tyler.

Follows immediately after [Sidewalk].

[Masterpost]

Content - This is set in the BBU, and WRU is discussed, but no pet whump in this one. Gun, threats, angst, and betrayal.

"Thank god you're here," Tara mumbled into Tyler's hair, while she refilled her glass at the sink. She wasn't hurt, he assessed. All herself, if just slightly annoyed. The circles under her eyes could've grown slightly deeper, but apart from that she seemed... fine. It should've been a relief. It wasn't. "They're creeping me out. Just sitting there, horrible at small talk. Your work friend is fucking weird, bro."

Louder, with a fake cheer to her voice, she added. "Nice meeting you, Alex. I'll leave you two to it, then. Have fun."

"No," Alex said plainly. "This is about you, after all." They strolled to the door and turned the key, tucking it into their pocket.

Next to Tyler, Tara stiffened. "What the fuck? This is our place, dude, unlock that door."

Alex casually reached under their jacket and pulled out a gun, considering it for a second, before they placed it on the table. They looked up at Tara and Tyler with a raised eyebrow.

"What the fuck is an appropriate question. What the fuck, Tyler?"

Tara flinched. "You-"

Tyler put a hand on her arm. "I... Let me do the talking?"

"You should," Alex said. "Do the talking. Talk to our employer. I know you've been protecting her. I've figured out in like, 20 minutes. Now, our colleagues obviously lack some deductive qualities, but you can't fool them forever. Not after what you did with 242."

Tyler forced his heart to beat slower, counted his breath, before he asked, "Why are you here, Alex?"

Tara shoved his hand away and folded her arms looking from him to Alex. "Who's... who's your employer, Ty? Why do I have to do with them?"

Alex' eyebrows shot up. "You don't know? Why are you living with him then? If you aren't trying to spy for your subversive little anti capitalist stories?"

"Ty?" Tara asked, voice a little higher than it should be. "What is going on?"

"WRU," Tyler said quietly. It didn't make sense to hide it. It was too late. Everything was. "I'm a handler at WRU. Alex is in Acquisitions."

"What?"

"And you're collecting dirt on WRU, Tara McKenzie. We don't accept this."

Tara stepped back, but she was already cornered, back pressing against the kitchen sink. "You can't be serious."

"Tyler." Alex pointed his gun at Tyler's pocket, at the shape of his phone pressing through the fabric. No. No. They couldn't probably know that. "You make the call. Tell them you were confused, you wanted to find out yourself, but you know who that journalist is, and where she lives. There's an acquisition team just two blocks away. They'll take her in, and this is over. You'll be fine. They have nothing in their hands against you. Maybe they'll hold back some money of your paycheck to cover the mess you've made today. But that's... that's it. You wouldn't lose anything more."

"You... You want me to make an acquisition call on my best friend?"

Alex clicked their tongue. "She's obviously not your friend, if you need to keep half your life a secret from her. I am being your friend right now. I am helping you, Tyler. You need to make that call."

Tyler's hands dug into the edge of the countertop behind him. He shook his head, jaw clenched. "I won't."

"If you don't do it, I will." With their free hand, Alex pulled out their own phone. "Last chance. I don't want to lose you, Tyler. You... I really like you."

"Then let us both go, Alex. I... Nobody needs to know you were here. We'll run. We'll... I'll... I know places. You wouldn't have to fight me. You wouldn't have to... lose me."

"No." Tara hissed. "No, I won't run with a fucking WRU handler. And, Alex," She spat their name."I won't get taken in, either. I'm a journalist. I have friends. People will be looking for me. They'll know what you did."

"Like Zsuzsanna?"

"Suzy." All color seemed to drain from Tara's face. "What about her?"

"What do you think led to this little meeting here? Tyler, will you tell her what you did to her friend today?"

Tyler shook his head. "I... I won't let that happen to Tara."

"What did you do, Tyler?" Tara stared at him from wide eyes. "What... What did you do?"

"Last chance to come to reason, Tyler." He heard the gun click behind him. "She won't ever be with you on this. The company still can be."

"Ty... I..." Tara slowly shook her head in disbelief. Her legs trembled, knees gave in, and she slowly sank down the tiled wall. Blue, Tyler thought. Their kitchen tiles were blue. She'd never see blue tiles again. "I hate you. How could... How could you do all this? The lies? The... The work? Suzy? How... How could you ever pretend to be my friend?"

Alex stepped in behind him, and something hard pressed in his side.

"Just make the call." It wasn't the gun that Alex was sliding to him. It was their phone. "The number is in it."

For a second Tyler thought about fighting. He wasn't a fighter, though. And Alex, easily overlooked number cruncher, master strategist, cold faced planner; they were. Tyler had never inquired about their past. Maybe he should've.

"I hate you," Tara whispered.

Tyler took the phone and pressed the call button.

By his side, Alex patted his shoulder.

In front of him Tara closed her eyes, face pressed against blue tiles.

The radio was still playing her favourite station.

"Acquisition desk," a hollow voice said from the phone.

"This is WRU Handler Tyler Parker. ID 002-A3F. I need a team deployed to my private address. 351 Bellevue Avenue. ASAP."

"Target?"

Tara's hand clenched into one of the tea towels, the one he had gotten her, with the logo of her favourite soccer team.

Tyler swallowed back the lump in his throat.

"McKenzie. Tara."

[Next]

[enbyhyena]

So I talk sometimes about how piss-poor the SSI payout amounts are, but I did my math on something slightly different today and I just thought I ought to share my findings. I also just wanted to do a more in-depth, comprehensive post in general. So here you go.

As of the 2023 calendar year, the maximum SSI payout amount is $914 per month.

A full-time worker will work 40 hours a week, or 160 hours a month.

If you take the payout amount and divide it by the hours of a full-time job, you get...

🥁🥁🥁

$5.71/hour.

The federal minimum wage is $7.25.

In order to be completely financially secure and comfortable, you need to make about $233k a year. As of 2021, the median household income is $71,000 a year.

According to this calculator, $914/month ($10,968 a year) is 75.23% below the federal poverty line.

Put another way, if I never spent a single cent of my SSI (which I can't do and I'll talk about why further down), and if my wages were not to increase at all (which it does by a small amount each year, but for the sake of this analogy), it would take me 21 years to make the amount of money that it takes to be comfortable for just one year. (I got this figure by taking 914 and multiplying it by the number of months (12), and then dividing 233k by the outcome [$10,968].)

Multiple resources state that people should aim to not spend above 30% of their monthly income on rent.

30% of $914 is $274.20.

Median rent cost in the United States has climbed to $2,011 per month.

Recipients of SSI are not allowed to have ANY amount above $2,000 in combined income and assets at ANY time, or else they will lose their benefits cold turkey. Meaning that even if they COULD come up with 200% of their monthly income JUST for rent (not factoring in the cost of food, meds, transportation, etc), they would be instantly cut off.

Don't even get me started on what a shit-show Section 8 is. Especially post-pandemic.

Marriage brings the income/asset limit to $3,000. So if you're a double-disabled couple, your limit is cut in half (strongly discouraging marriage). If you're a disabled person and marry to someone who works, your SSI will almost certainly drop or disappear completely—which can trap disabled people in financially abusive situations.

If you claim SSI and try to work to make a little extra money, every other dollar after $63 subtracts a dollar from your SSI payout, BEFORE taxes. So say you work full time for 2 weeks making $9 an hour—$720 before taxes.

Subtract the initial $63, and you're left with $657. Now divide that by two (for every other dollar).

SSI has just taken $328.50 from your SSI payout. Your $914 payout is now $585.50. Subtract another $328.50 for your second paycheck in one month, and that's a $256.50 payout.

This leads to a lot of disabled people, who break their bodies trying to make just a little more in spite of their illnesses, to largely break even. Usually making about the same amount they would have made if they'd just stayed home and taken care of themselves instead.

And to make it EVEN worse, earnings take 2 months to reflect on your payouts. So say you work over the holidays to treat yourself for Christmas. You may get $914 in December and January as normal, but only come February will you finally see that deduction take effect—meaning if anything happens, you have several hundred less dollars to work with.

When I worked, it took over a year AFTER I quit for my payouts to finally go back to normal, as they kept readjusting my earnings and deducting from my payouts saying that they "paid me too much".

So I don't think it needs to be said that you can fight tooth and nail to get accepted onto this program, and be shamed by society for being on it once you finally win, but as an extra kicker be FORCED to stay there with no options to escape without severe punishment.

I have known people who fought for four and ten years. While being considered, you cannot work AT ALL or they will immediately throw out your case. The average wait time is 2 years, but most wait longer. If SSA says no, you'll be sent to court to appeal. If the judge denies you, you have to start all over again. And you can get caught in the same loop over, and over, and over, and over again, getting denied support that you desperately need, and many die hoping to receive.

8,000 people file for bankruptcy and 10,000 people die a year while waiting for their SSI to be approved.

And it just keeps getting worse and worse the further down the rabbit hole you go. I made this post partially to vent my frustration with this system after being abused by it for the past 5 years (and it abusing the people I care about). But I also wanted to create a resource with citations for people to share around and throw in the faces of ANYONE who dares to think that people on welfare/claiming SSI somehow "have it easy".

As a disabled person, I spend over half of my given days either in bed too ill and/or in pain to function, or at a clinic begging a doctor to not call me fat or a hypocondriac or drug-seeking and take my (documented and diagnosed!!) illnesses seriously. I rarely ever get to just SIT there and BE sick. I often have to get up and get shit done in SPITE of being sick, even doing OTHER people's jobs and holding their hands just to make sure they're actually doing what THEY'RE being PAID to do (insurance agents, doctors, etc). Disabled people don't GET days off. Just because we don't work a "conventional" job doesn't mean we're just sitting on our asses mooching off the system. Every single goddamn day is a fight just for the basic human right to survive. And I never want to hear anyone saying that ableist, invalidating, and blatantly untrue shit around me.

[misanthropiczombie]

So like. Yes but no.

If you're pinching pennies to put rice on the table, no you absolutely can't afford to save. Prioritize eating.

If you're not, though? You absolutely can save. Can you save 10%? Fuck I don't even save 10% and I prioritize it over most other expenses.

What you do is save at your level. When I had semi stable income from waiting tables, I saved all of the 5s I went home with. When I got a 9-5 that paid kinda shit but paid regularly? $20 a paycheck direct deposit into savings and if you saw that savings account no you didn't.

When I started making a little more? $50 a paycheck, now my standard is $100 a paycheck.

When we really ramped up trying to save a down-payment and closing costs for a hoise we stretched it to $300 a paycheck, but honestly that put us crazy behind on our credit card so like. Not recommended.

If you make more, save more, if you make less save less. It might feel silly to only put $20 away, but that is $20 future you with two bald tires has. If you have a year of $20 a check working a place that pays twice a month that's $480 a year- that's a decent cushion for something going wrong!!

If you're worried you'll dip into it when you don't need it, make a list of things that money can go towards (replacing your tires, major medical deductibles, an insurance deductible, whatever you owe your apartment after moving out or a down-payment on a new unit or car or whatever.) If it doesn't fit that list, ask a friend or family member that's good to decent with money if X thing should come out of your rainy day fund.

Many of you can save, even in this economy. Honestly this shit is why you need it the most. Who can afford a car repair out of the blue? Not my paycheck, but past me who saved as much as I could from each check can, or can at least offset the cost so it hurts less. A 1000 car repair hurts, but 1480 hurts more.

[toalliveloved]

8/10/24

Money. This foolish concept.

It determines what you eat, or lackthereof. I reached for the flour tucked in the cupboard. I’m glad I never make eggs in the morning, I seem to buy them and romanticize the idea but they’ve now been my savior. I added too much water to the eggs and flour. I hopelessly mixed the unmeasured ingredients in a Tupperware, hoping for the best. I center poured them like pancakes on a skillet. I shuffled around the spice cabinet to find cinnamon and 1 Splenda I could mix with water as dip. This is all that I will eat in a day. Trying not to let an oyster platter on Instagram throw me off the edge.

I was supposed to be in residential treatment at this time. My insurance policy wouldn’t cover it. I needed a 3,500 deductible, which isn’t even two months of full-time work for me. After I filed for FMLA from my main job, I was informed I haven’t accrued enough money to use PTO. I have nothing but $30 and a month off. My rent payment is gaining on me. Miraculously, I have a temp job floating around luxury hotels and condominiums as a front desk agent. I watch people in fancy jewelry snark at my rough edges. I’ve never tasted caviar, but I’m sure they abandoned their leftovers at some five star next to a pathetic tip.

I’m mostly concerned because I’ve read only two chapters of a library book, and touched my DBT (dialectical behavioral therapy) workbook maybe twice. I’ve done nothing but sit in my room, inhaling the comfort of weed and exhaling this insatiable discontent. I have no money to fly home and embrace my family who I’m so far removed from. It’s been a sweaty marathon of work for maintenance. I have little time for therapy and spend too much time rationing old prescription drugs. I can’t even afford to be sick.

$30 will only fill up a quarter of my gas tank. I have $5 left on a McDonald’s gift card in case I have to consider shoplifting. I don’t qualify for food stamps because of the 1,100 dollars I make biweekly. My rent is one of those paychecks, my car note is $428, my insurance is inactive because I can’t afford it. I have gas, little groceries and miscellaneous fees to take care of with the remainder of my income. I know what you’re thinking. It’s a luxury to have a car, an expensive one at that. My 2017 Jeep Patriot is big enough to sleep in, parked neatly out front, just in case I have to live in it; again.

I was born economically six feet under, so I have to work twice as hard as the average citizen to live. Simultaneously, I must attend college, watching federal student aid take a sledgehammer to my credit report. I sought moving to another country to avoid this bloody hamster wheel. I’m a dreamer, an empty vessel washed on the shore of Miami Beach. I couldn’t move 2 feet without the current pulling me back out to sea. Moving to Spain would band-aid a hemorrhage, my fake husband and I were living in the clouds. Our dreams quickly turned into nightmares, lawyers fees, and stagnancy which are all one and the same. I thought of going back home to Boston, remembering this same feeling, just frostbitten.

I was conditioned to this lifestyle. I’ve only ever been a minority in big cities. I’ve had glimpses and appetizers of what money could buy me. I feel I deserve more than what my circumstances are. I try to ignore the way kids in alternative countries have no shoes, but they never knew any better. I only engage in the thought of their happiness, having a sense of community and always having a hot plate, even if it’s from the neighbors. You could be homeless here, a product of the streets and even I wouldn’t blink an eye. The idea that my few cents would buy drugs angered me. Hidden behind windows and my steering wheel, I knew that even I couldn’t afford to give up a few cents.

Among the hardships of what this life provides, money has value in the way you handle this life. How I long for a residential facility in Wyoming to gather my thoughts and rebuild myself. How I wish food wasn’t a privilege. Money to build a wall but no money to cover tuition. I didn’t need luxury, I needed a sense of belonging and basic necessities. I didn’t want to decipher what I did and did not need from Dollar Tree. Money is enough to break us down to our knees. Imagine, a deficit in every other department of life.

[potatoes83]

Random...

Let's talk about regulatory compliance. And the bullshit that it brings. So because I have a high deductible insurance plan, we get a flex card. We can elect to put a certain amount of money pre-tax on said card, it comes out of every paycheck. And as a privilege of... letting us use our own money, the Infernal Revenue Service has set a whole bunch of rules that the flex card administrator has to follow. Like asking for documentation. And documentation. And more documentation, and even more documentation, and more documentation still.

Now I've talked about this before; they always flag the ones from the dentist. Like what the hell else am I going to buy at the dentist but dentistry? Meanwhile the ones from the Meijer pharmacy, Meijer being a major grocery store chain in my area, a place where I could easily be checking out at the pharmacy with my prescription, some garden knicknacks, some ice cream... crickets. Not a peep. They've never once asked for one.

So today I'm going through the pile of mail on my desk as I periodically do, and there's a nasty gram from American Fidelity demanding to see an invoice paid in October from Biotech Clinical Laboratories. Yeah. I wonder what the hell we paid for there? And for $8.60 no less, it must either be a nightclub, a bottle of 25 year old malt, or I'm redoing my bathroom.

Speaking of medical nasty grams, I got one from Blue Cross. Apparently I got two from Blue Cross, because this one is the second notice. It's a subrogation request. "We see there is a claim that could be related to an accident, someone else should be paying for this, if someone else should be paying for this, you have to tell us who should be paying for this."

Like okay, this entire thing is stemming from my wife having physical therapy. Either for her back or her knee, I can't remember, but God forbid, her general practitioner is electing to put her through a round of physical therapy to help with whatever pain she's having, rather than going straight to a double fistful of pills and then invasive surgery. I wish more doctors took that approach. But yeah, physical therapy, it has to be an accident, we want details dammit. And I'm sitting here up to my armpits in desk paperwork after getting out of work, and it's been about a week from Hell thank you very much, so my initial instinct response is "none of your fucking business."

It would be different if this was the first time, it's not. Probably the 4th or 5th. Same thing with Biotech, that's at least quarterly if not monthly for the last, oh I don't know, at least 6 years. You'd think these ass hats would maybe figure out that her doctor is treating her for a chronic back condition, or that having lab work done is in fact a medical expense.

If let's go Brandon's fucking taxes weren't so high right now, it honestly wouldn't be worth it. It wouldn't be worth the hassle. I would use my own money, and I would take the financial hit on the front end. Anything to keep from constantly having to scan and submit documents. Clearer copies of documents. Documents that show exactly this. But unfortunately that's not the case. 🥔

[i-am-ghobli]

Unexpected Tax Deficit

Hey everyone,

I've been pondering these unexpected expenses and bills that keep popping up on my pay slip lately. It's a new challenge for me, despite having a higher salary now than ever before. Even with this bump in pay, I still find myself facing unforeseen costs. Let me break it down for you.

So, I've seen an 85% increase in my salary compared to my last job, which has been fantastic. I've been enjoying treating myself on paydays, indulging in meals from fancy restaurants and splurging on food delivery services like FoodPanda and GrabFood. But then, out of the blue, I noticed a significant deduction of eight thousand pesos for taxes on my pay slip for two consecutive months. Naturally, I reached out to our payroll team for clarification, and after four days, they got back to me, explaining that it's due to be billed four times over my next few paychecks.

This deduction hit me hard, especially since I recently lost one of my bedspacers, impacting my income. But no matter what, I have to ensure everything is covered, especially since my credit score depends on it.

From this experience, I've learned some valuable lessons. It's crucial to have an emergency fund ready and understand the payroll process. I also need to ensure I'm making the most of my resources. Money truly matters, and here's what I've learned so far:

I invested some extra cash into crypto and lost fifteen thousand pesos shortly after.

I lent money to a friend without completing my emergency fund.

I splurged on dining out and online shopping, neglecting essential expenses.

I didn't track my expenses properly.

Moving forward, here's my plan:

Utilize my Citypay All account to cover expenses from my cards.

Use Chase Jaypee for top-up online payments.

Remind friends to repay any loans.

Cut down on unnecessary expenses and manage resources wisely.

Complete my emergency fund.

Keep track of income and expenses.

Cook at home more often.

I'm realizing that what I thought was a significant increase in earnings before might not be as substantial as I once believed. It's essential to explore other options and set achievable goals to overcome these financial hiccups.

Here's to resolving these money matters by April, starting fresh, and aiming for greatness. Let's make it happen!

[swampthingfromhell]

I’ve been really struggling with my health lately and just want to vent

So I’ve been having episodes for months where I ‘freeze’ or am paralyzed. It started happening just when I was relaxing at home and now has gotten to where it can happen unless I am actively involved doing something and moving continuously. I sometimes have ‘tic’ or muscle spasms during them. My head hurts very often and I’m fatigued all the time. I went to see my primary care doc mainly about this issue and to follow up on concerns about being misdiagnosed as having pcos and perhaps instead having cushings.

I left with a referral to an endocrinologist and being told I needed to exercise more bc I’m still gaining weight and my blood sugar is up despite starting metformin and my appetite decreasing. I was also told to double my metformin, which has further decreased my appetite. I’m currently now snacking for breakfast and lunch and eating one meal at supper time unless someone actively takes me to get food bc I’m too fatigued to search out food.

The endocrinologist got in touch and I have an appointment in March. My paralysis spells have gotten more frequent and longer lasting and after a lot of coaxing from my family I emailed my pcp and asked point blank for a neurologist referral and to tell them I needed an emergency appointment. That was last Monday and today I finally got a call. From a sleep dr. Note that I already see a sleep dr for my sleep apnea. And they set me up an appointment. In August. 9 months away.

My family wants me to email my pcp again but I really don’t want to as I struggle with communication anyway and am also wary as she has scoffed at me and scolded me before for not taking my meds correctly and I don’t want to feel belittled. Their other idea is just going to the emergency room but I don’t want them to dismiss me as being dramatic or faking it. The er would also be more expensive than a dr visit. However if I wait I’ll likely have to pay more for any tests bc I won’t have met my deductible.

Add to this that I have no money bc my health problems have made me unable to work some days and my hours are being cut already due to the start of the slow season and my tips have decreased which usually make up over half of my paycheck. I need to get a second job. Especially since my sister already has two jobs and is contemplating taking on a third. But again I am fatigued all the time and can barely function and struggle getting hired in general anyway.

But the spells of paralysis are getting longer and longer and happening multiple times a day. I’m so scared there’s something wrong with me. My dad died of brain cancer and my grandma is currently dying from a brain tumor. But doctors’ lack of urgency makes me feel like I’m being stupid and dramatic.

[nadiasindi]

10/5/22, I went to the SSA again to submit the filing papers they asked me to fill in order for me to get my SSI. I filled them, and asked them to call my Bank to verify their claim that my Bank had been stealing my SSI for the last two years, that SSA didn't deposit into my bank account!. All of a sudden, the person who was helping me went back to call Jeff to come and talk to me! Jeff Holmes was very belligerent and insisted that he sent me a letter in 2020 asking me for more info.!

According to my more than six visits to SSA I've been told that SSA had sent me 12 letters! NOW this is Mr. Jeff Holems is telling & showed me only one letter!

I also called the SSA last week and asked them to send me the 12 letters the SSA claimed that they had sent me!

I didn't get any letter but today Jeff Holmes gave me one letter to show me his Fraudulent scamp!

Then, I was kicked out of the office and they drew the blind off!



2/10/23, I went to the SSA office to find out why I was paid only $822.60. The person I talked to told me that SSA is deducting  $91.00 to pay back the $800+ something I owe them. Because they overpaid in 2021?   I told him I have not been paid since 2021. How come I owe them the $800+ something? if I was only paid $400.00.or less?  Plus when I was going  last year in Oct. to ask why they stopped paying. I've asked why I have to pay them back more $800.00.+ one of the employees gave me a petition to file to dismiss $800+ I did filed the petition to wave the $800+

2/16/23 I stopped by the SSA for the second time to see if I could talk to Mark Stream. The person who was helping me in window 1 was very rude, kept interrupting me & refused to let me see Mark!

The person who was helping me informed me that SSA had sent me a letter in 2020 to waive my so-called over-payment of $800+. I told him I've never got any letter! Plus I was giving the petition to file to waive the $800+ last Oct. 2022 when I was kicked out by Jeff Holems 

Please let me know what else I can do to have SSA not deducting $91.00 from my paycheck.

[pamprinninja]

I grew up in the UK. As a teenager, I inadvertently lacerated my index finger; an injury that necessitated emergency medical intervention, followed by surgery to repair the two tendons I had severed.

The total cost to myself and my family: £0.

A few years later, I was employed; and I am lead to understand that around 11 - 12% of my income was taxed in the form of National Insurance (which pays for the NHS; plus a number of other significant social services).

...

I then moved to the US; where I contracted a series of common respiratory infections that, unfortunately, would routinely lead to such complications as bronchitis, pneumonia, and (on one memorable occasion), pleurisy.

My first major introduction to the exorbitant cost of American-style, privately-funded healthcare came when, during one of these instances, I needed a chest x-ray; for which I paid $400 out of my own pocket (equivalent, at the time, to a month's rent).

There was a later instance in which a family member was experiencing breathing difficulties, and was directed to the ER. The medical professionals involved ordered virtually every test in their arsenal (as they were not privy to, nor concerned, with the costs involved). Our private health insurer refused to pay for these, citing the need to investigate a possible preexisting condition.

That one event cost us $15,000.

...

At my company, a mid-level employee is paid a salary of $60,000. They then have the option to purchase a mid-range private health insurance plan with coverage of all family members. This costs $600 a month; 12% of their income.

So far, there is relative parity with the NHS.

However: the plan also includes a $3,750 deductible; and a $7,500 out-of-pocket maximum. That is to say: until you reach the first threshold, the insurer pays little to nothing; and it is only when you reach the second threshold that they will pay for the entirety of your care.

(And this does not account for out-of-network care; i.e. conducted by medical providers that do not have a contract with the health insurer specifying payment rates. The out-of-network thresholds are tracked separately; and both are on the order of tens of thousands of dollars.)

So really, in the event that you actually need to exercise your health insurance, you are potentially paying up to 24.5% of your income on healthcare.

But wait, there's more!

The aforementioned $600 per month isn't the full insurance premium; merely the part the employee pays. The employer also pays a portion - another $1,600 per month.

(This is, of course, part of the employee's overall compensation package; but most Americans don't think of it as such, as the expense circumvents their paycheck. Just one of the many ways by which the true cost of private health insurance is kept opaque.)

So really, our hypothetical mid-level employee receives $79,200 per year in compensation; of which a minimum of 33% goes to healthcare (and as much as 42% if you actually need to exercise said healthcare).

(Now to be fair: a family health plan would cover our employee's partner; so their contribution of income would be 0%. Assuming that they earn a similar salary however, you are still looking at an average cost of between 16.5% and 21% for each partner.)

...

The American healthcare system is a travesty; one where health insurers and (other various middlemen) demand an enormous portion of American income, while interfering with (and frequently preventing) access to care.

The simple reality is that private industry will, in any given context, prioritize profit; and that in certain sectors of service, this will place the needs of industry in direct conflict with those in need of said service.

Put another way: to make a dollar of profit in the healthcare industry, you must take it from someone that has paid for and needs healthcare; and then you must choose to deny said healthcare, and keep it for yourself. It is the vampiric exploitation of a group of people particularly unequipped to fight back.

The people of the UK should seek to defend, tooth and nail, any and every attempt to not only privatize the NHS in general, but especially at the hands of the same US health insurers that have so successfully raised costs and lowered health outcomes.

The NHS will last as long as there are folk left to fight for it” – Aneurin Bevan

I’m no fan of Keir Starmer or Rishi Sunak. Sunak is completely out of touch with ordinary people and Starmer will promise just about anything to get himself into power and then break those promise when it suits him.  However when it comes to the future of the NHS I feel it will be safer under a Labour government than one run by free market, neo-liberal Tories.

From a purely selfish perspective  - something the Conservative Party excels at - the NHS saves all of us a small fortune. When your child needs medical care it is free at the point of use; when your parents need medical care it is free at the point of use; and when YOU need medical care it is free at the point of use.

Of course we pay for this through taxes and national insurance contributions but the clue is in the phrase “national insurance”. Medical treatment in Britain, is, at the moment, paid for through collective funding. It is a system based on community, social responsibility, and the old fashioned concept of caring for your neighbour. . Aneurin  Bevan, the "Father of the NHS” said:

“No society can legitimately call itself civilized if a sick person is denied medical aid because of lack of means."

It is a sad fact that Conservative Party members, many of them rich individuals who can afford private medical treatment, have been undermining the NHS because of their unwavering adherence to the ideological belief that all things run by private enterprise are good while all public sector institutions are bad. . The Tory’s will, of course deny this, claiming the NHS is save in their hands and that they have no plans to privatise it.

 Lets look at the facts.

Despite Prime Minister David Cameron promising there would be no cuts to the NHS this was the headline in the Daily Mirror when the Conservatives took over from Labour in 2012.

“David Cameron cuts NHS spending by £500million.” (06/11/12)

Two years later and we have this headline from the Guardian:

“David Cameron accused of hypocrisy over £1.4bn ‘raid’ on NHS funding." (06/07/2012)

By 2014 NHS staff were on strike because of the Tory government refused to give them a 1% pay rise. Rows over poor pay and under-funding continue to this day.

While Jeremy Hunt was Health Secretary patient experience and staff moral took a dramatic turn for the worse. Despite presenting himself as a “champion of patient safety”, targets were missed, waiting times increased, and the very fabric of some hospitals began to crumble, leading to Hunt being labelled “the man who ruined the NHS”. (Open Democracy: 08/07/22)

In 2016 The Independent ran this headline:

“Jeremy Hunt co-authored book calling for NHS to be replaced with private insurance.” (10/02/2016)

Is it any wonder the NHS has been seriously under-funded and run down when the man in charge was an advocate of private medical health insurance? Millionaires like Cameron (£40m) Hunt (£15m) and Sunak (£651m) can afford to pay for expensive medical care but the rest of us are not so fortunate.

This brings me back to the purely selfish reason we should vote for the party most likely to protect the NHS. Below are some AVERAGE costs for private medical procedures and treatments in the USA provided by Statistica 2021

Heart valve replacement…….$170,000     £133,390

Heart bypass………………….......$123,000     £96,518

Cornea (per eye) ……………......$17,000       £13,339

IVF treatments ………………......$15,400      £12,084

Hysterectomy ………………….....$5200          £4,080

In addition, Americans have to pay for their stay in hospital. This fee is on top of medical treatment costs. According to Debt.org (30/11/23) the price for the average stay in hospital of 4.6 days is $13,262. (£10,406)

Whatever your political leanings, the protection and restoration of the NHS should take precedent over all other electoral considerations because we will ALL need medical treatment at some stage in our lives be that as a child or as an adult.

We know the Tory mantra "private sector good public sector bad” just doesn’t live up to reality: we only have to look at our polluted waterways to realise this. Whether Keir Starmer would be any better at protecting the NHS from profit motivated private companies is a moot point.

With headlines like:

“Can Wes Streeting’s private sector plans save the NHS?” (Guardian: 14/04/24)

and

“Labour’s Wes Streeting just used the SUN to talk up NHS privatisation” (Canary: 08/04/24)

we cannot rely on the Labour Party leadership to protect the NHS from the profiteering private sector, not least because Wes Streeting has been paid £175,000 from donors linked to private health firms. (National: 14/04/24) There is no such thing as a free lunch so one doesn’t have to wonder to hard what these “donors” might want in return for their money!

Even so, I feel there are those within the Labour Party who would work very hard to stop the leadership of the party from running down the NHS to the point of collapse, as is the Tory plan, so with great reservation I will be voting Labour in the coming elections.

Save Our NHS