#plus vacation time AND pto

[sga-owns-my-soul]

ayyyyyyy i got a job offer today fuck yeah let's fucking gooooooooooooooooo

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

One Bite for You, One Bite for Me

💗 THIS IS MY 100 200 300 FOLLOWER SPECIAL!

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x AFAB!Reader

summary: One of the things you and Miguel bond over is delicious food. One day, you notice that your clothes aren’t fitting like they used to. Miguel is there to remind you how beautiful you are.

content warning: established relationship but they’re not married, 18+ so MDNI, non-Spiderman Miguel, LOTS OF MENTIONS OF FOOD AND DRINKS, weight gain, cycles, insecurity about body, alcohol, body worship, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up 🫵🏾), cunnilingus, lots of praise, a little Spanish (if wrong please lmk)

credit for art + dividers: Me! + @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

a/n: This is actually the first fic I wrote when my Miguel hyperfixation came back in full force. I based it off of this video and a comment saying that girls are usually the ones that gain weight super quick in a relationship. Please know that gaining weight is not a bad thing, especially in this story. Relationship weight can be positive and food is here to nourish your body! Also know that everyone’s body is different. Our bodies will react to things in different, unique ways. If you’re ever feeling icky about your weight/health, please take a step back, breathe, and know that you’re beautiful no matter what. There are also sources out there that can help you if your thoughts overpower your heart. Please don’t hesitate to seek help.

word count: 4.3k

To all my food-lovers and fellow plus-size girlies, kisses to you! You’re beautiful!

SPRING 🥭

“Baby!”

You grinned as you heard Miguel’s shout from the front door. His voice had a giddy tilt as if he made a breakthrough in one of his projects.

“I was finally able to stop by the new Jamaican spot before they sold out and look what I got us,” Miguel says before he slides the take-out bags across the table. “Ribs, oxtails, rice and beans, mac, and your favorite…fried plantains!”

You quickly untie the bags, happy to have a break from your research paper, and immediately get hit with the smell of spices both sweet and savory. “Oh my god! That looks incredible.”

After frantically digging around for a plastic fork, you were finally able to pull a piece of meat off the oxtail. It looked mouth-watering and tender. One bite of the meat and you’re immediately groaning, slumped in your chair. You nod your head and scrunch your face, watching as the juice from the gravy soaks into the pieces of rice stuck at the bottom of the take-out plate.

“That is so fucking good, Mig. No wonder there’s never any combos left by the time you leave work.”

Miguel just watches you eat with a glint in his eyes, happy to see you so relaxed and enjoying the food. He reaches into the second bag, pulling out two bottles of juice, “And to make it better, I got their fruit juice, made fresh daily-”

“Passionfruit and mango flavor!” Your eyes got big as you jumped up and wrapped your arms around his neck. He knew how much of a juice fanatic you were, so this drink was just the cherry on top of the large ice cream sundae that was your generous boyfriend.

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled and gave his cheek a fat smooch. You patted his chest twice and moved back to set up the table, “Now, hurry and wash up so we can eat this before it gets cold! We’ve got shows to watch.”

“Entendido, I’ll be right back”

SUMMER 🍦

You and Miguel were walking hand in hand along the Cancun Hotel Zone, taking in all the sights. Miguel’s job had given him a promotion along with an extremely high bonus, so what better way to celebrate than to use his PTO and bring the love of his life on vacation?

Granted, the area you guys were currently in was a little touristy, borderline bougie, but it was all worth it when Miguel got to see your eyes light up as you watched the turquoise waves fade into white foam along the shoreline.

You wobbled a bit while clinging to Miguel’s side, a little tipsy from the frozen paloma you drank to pair with today’s lunch. It was a waterfront restaurant with a live band so the vibes were just right for a little bit of liquid fun.

The downside was that the two of you were supposed to meet up with Miguel’s family later that evening and while you were fine with the confidence boost you were sporting, you wanted to be more alert when speaking with loved ones. Plus, you needed to give a good impression to the relatives you hadn’t met yet. It will be nice to put a face to the names of Miguel’s childhood.

“What do you say we stop and get some ice cream?” Miguel suggested, chuckling at you when you grinned up at him, ecstatic over the proposed plan.

“You know me so well,” you said, arms reaching around his waist, face squished into the side of his chest. “I would absolutely love some ice cream. Cool me down from the inside.”

Miguel chuckled and kissed the top of your head. You were especially cute when you got like this.

FALL 🍕

“Baby, check this out,” Miguel shouted, finally returning to your table with your food.

The fair was packed full of people, especially due to the pop-up food truck festival happening that same week. You had never seen more people run to get fried turnip greens and loaded fries in your life.

Still, this was just another chance to hang out with Miguel. You really didn’t care where you went with him, as long as you got to see that pretty smile.

You look down at the table and see what he brought back. Before your eyes sat the most un-Miguel order ever: birria pizza and two walking tacos, one Hot Cheetos and the other Dorritos.

“Dorilocos, Miguel. Really?” you raised an eyebrow watching him try to steady the open chip bags over some spread-out napkins.

“Amor, don’t look at me like that! I had to get them because Gabriel kept talking my ear off about this new food truck that made them better than the ones we used to eat on our trips back home. I, for one, don’t believe that for a second, so what better way to test that theory than to eat it with my baby?” Miguel gave the saddest look he could muster and slid his hand across the table, trying to convince you to indulge with him.

“Fine, fine. Don’t give me that look,” you say, pulling off a slice of the pizza, making the cheese stretch as long as you can. “Just don’t complain to me from the bathroom while your stomach fights to digest something it hasn’t had in over a decade!”

Miguel pursed his lips while shoveling as much food as he could on one Doritto, “Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that? That’s a lot of cheese, babe.”

“Oh my god, some queso tears up my stomach one time and you can’t let that go, can you?”

“It was once and yet you were in agony about it for days. I think I’m allowed to remind you at least monthly.”

“Just eat your food and leave me and my iron stomach alone. We’ll see what happens between today and tomorrow,” you quip, pulling your phone out ready to record Miguel’s reaction to send to Gabriel.

Miguel takes a bite and just leans against the table, head slumped on his clean head.

“Dios mio, he was right. This can’t be happening,” he groaned, slightly annoyed that Gabriel wasn’t exaggerating. He was also shocked at the fact that someone even came close to getting the local snack right.

You giggled behind your phone, happy that his reaction worked in your favor. You zoomed in a little more on his face, capturing him smacking his lips and licking off excess sauce. He was so zoned in on his food that he didn’t even notice you with your phone up.

“Is it good, Mig?” you asked, mirth in your voice.

He looked at you ready to answer but his eyes snapped to your camera and started to whine, “Amor, please stop recording!”

With a small smile, you made sure to add the video to your folder full of Miguel. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You just look so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Miguel just mumbled to himself while stacking up another chip, neck heated over the interaction. “Here, just try this,” he said, holding a nacho close to your mouth.

You opened your mouth, just barely getting the chip in. Cupping your hand under your head, you begin to hum, the flavors all tangy, spicy, and savory. “I don’t know what your childhood Dorilocos tasted like, but this is really freaking good.”

“Just know that this one is only slightly better. By 0.00001% to be exact,” he said, rubbing sauce off of the corner of your lips and licking it off. The movement was muscle memory for him as he always liked to watch your face when you ate food, especially when it came to any nostalgic or homecooked dishes you never tried before. It warmed his heart to see you find comfort in his favorite foods.

“Well, I can tell you it’s 100% better than the ‘Taco Tuesday’ luncheon my job hosted last month. Nothing but unseasoned ground beef, endless black olives, and store-bought guacamole for two hours,” you respond, shuddering at the memory of soppy taco shells and your coworkers complaining about how spicy the mild salsa was.

“On second thought, this is absolutely a step up. Was the guacamole name brand at least?” He asked, peering up at you with a twist on his lips.

“I’m pretty sure it was a grocery store brand, so no.”

“Damn.”

WINTER 🍫

You were at your apartment in your bed, completely covered under the comforter with a fluffy blanket on top.

It was snowing heavily outside and you were freezing. However, your heater tended to make your apartment feel like a sauna, so you kept snatching the blanket off only to put it back on minutes later. Plus, your cycle was here. Your cramps left you lying on your side, rolling back and forth between the cool side of the bed and the warm side.

Physically, you were exhausted, but mentally, you knew you had so much to get done.

Christmas was just around the corner but you still had so many presents left to buy and wrap. Your job was doing the dreaded Secret Santa gift exchange and you were stuck wondering what gift would appeal to the stuck-up director in the accounting department.

You and Miguel were also hosting a small Christmas party amongst your friends, and there was still food left to buy. To top it all off, you were worried about your gift for Miguel, wondering if a silly little apron saying “Kiss me, I’m Irish” would hide the fact that you spent a ridiculous amount of money on some new tech he was eyeing.

You heard the apartment door open and close.

Knowing it was Miguel, you groan out dramatically.

He opens the bedroom door and peaks inside, “Baby?”

You just groan out again, “Everything hurts, Miggy.”

He comes up to bed and sits on the edge, “I know, amor. I’m sorry.” He bends down to kiss your head. “Want me to plug up the heat pack?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into his hands. When he gets up to grab the pack, you whine at his absence.

“I know, I know. I’m coming back,” he says, voice soothing.

Instead of turning the pack on, he removes your covers and sits back down on the edge. You shiver a little bit and he’s quick to cover your body with his, rubbing the top of your head as he kisses your temple.

“Are you feeling too bad to eat something for me?” Miguel asks, the timber of his voice settling you.

You shake your head and lean in closer to him.

“I think I want some food,” you reply, squeezing his body. “I haven’t eaten anything yet.”

Miguel tuts as he sits up and pulls you up with him, “That’s no good, baby. You have to eat so you can feel better. Your body needs it.”

You groan again and put your face in his neck, not wanting to move.

“Come on,” Miguel says, rubbing you from your back to your leg. “I got you some soup and a grilled cheese.”

“Did you get the stuff for the hot chocolate bar? For the party?” you whisper.

“Mm hm. Jumbo marshmallows included.”

You nuzzle his neck before you look at him, “Carry me to the kitchen?”

He makes a swift move to wrap your legs around his body and hike you up.

He gets up and holds you close, heading to the kitchen, “Let’s get some food in you, yeah?”

SPRING 🍇

The short spring break trip that Miguel surprised you with has been lovely. Miguel woke you with kisses down your body, taking you to the hilt with his mouth alone. You had to muffle your cries as to not disturb the neighbors in the inn. As his tongue danced inside of you, you gripped his hair with one hand and his head with your thighs. Miguel wouldn’t want it any other way.

After his first course, Miguel treated you to breakfast on the balcony. You two enjoyed looking over the horizon as you ate yogurt parfaits and fluffy omelets.

Later on, the two of you enjoyed a few tours of the vineyard and the city. The sights were beyond compare and the atmosphere was serene.

“Thank you so much for this Miguel,” you say, interrupting the silence.

“Anything for my lady,” he says back. “You’re doing great work this semester so you need the break.” Miguel stopped and turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You leaned up and kissed him, hands warm on the sides of his face.

You both started to makeout for so long that Miguel forgot about the massage he had planned for you before tonight’s farm-to-table dinner.

Needless to say, he laid you out on your bed and oiled your body down. Your head was in your arms as rubbed his hands up and down your back. His hands were heaven and you felt like puddy by the time he flipped you over.

After he massaged your inner thighs he pounded you into the mattress. Something you’re sure the hired masseuse would never be able to do.

Miguel joked and called it the Miguel Magic Massage when you asked if he offered this special regularly. The price? Being his cariño, his amor, his sweetheart.

By the time dinner started, you were glowing. You felt adored and the courses were amazing.

Miguel made sure everyone knew you were his. His hand never left your thigh the entire meal, staring down the older men sitting at the end table who were looking a little too long at the dip of your dress.

You were oblivious, feeding Miguel bites occasionally and humming at how fresh and delicious everything was.

After the last course was over, the men came to you all’s side of the table quickly. All of them started to make conversation with you, plugging in their businesses, and stuffing their business cards in your hands.

It was as if Miguel was invisible. He scowls deeper when they let out hearty laughs at something you said.

“Are you fellas here with your wives?” Miguel asked loudly, completely irritated. “My wife and I have really enjoyed our time here. It’s a beautiful place for couples.”

Some of the men went red in the face flustered at Miguel catching their scheme. Others just scowled, pissed off at being interrupted.

None of them could answer his question.

You looked at Miguel, eyes heavy and relaxed.

“You gentlemen have a great night,” you said, putting your hand in Miguel’s as he guided you to the exit.

“Your wife, huh?” you asked, core on fire. It was hot watching Miguel get so worked up over you.

“Baby, they were looking at you like you were some fresh meat. Like I wasn’t even sitting there,” he grumbled.

“One of them already offered to bring me on a cruise. He’s staying right next to us,” you say, standing outside your room as Miguel swipes his card at the door. You walked your fingers up his chest, heated over the grit you could see from his profile.

He was oh so upset.

“He’s next to us? Right here?” Miguel asked, voice low.

You nodded as you bit your lip, arm around his neck.

Miguel picked you up and dragged you to the bed. You giggled a little to yourself as he plopped you down. Mission accomplished. Silently, you thank those older men. If it weren’t for their overconfidence, Miguel wouldn’t have been tearing at your clothes like he us right now.

Miguel kept you up almost that whole night, making sure that the neighbors heard your cries. Those old geezers were sure to know his name by the next morning. Buying you a ring wasn’t enough. He needed a bat.

It was all worth it to see the tired and flushed looks of their faces when you all checked out the next day.

SUMMER 🍯

“What the fuck,” you mumble, looking down at the pair of jeans you were trying to put on.

It was early morning. You had a family reunion that you and Miguel would take a bit of a drive to get to.

You made sure that everything was packed the following night. Some clothes to stay for a few days, a few snacks for the road, a book for you to catch up on, and even a crossword puzzle book for Miguel.

You planned ahead. You were diligent. So why is it that when everything else is going right, your pants decide not to button up?

You pulled at the flaps once more, trying your hardest to connect the button with the hole. It fails as they slip from your grasp. You try again, sucking in your stomach as much as you could. You get the button to snap in this time, but it’s digging unbearably into your skin. The zipper fights against you as you try to pull it up.

You huff out in frustration and the pants snap open again.

Defeated, you let out a watery sigh and look in the mirror.

Your stomach was bigger than you last remembered, fupa a little more prominent. Your thighs were also a little thicker, the jeans hugging them a little tight. Your breasts looked a little big in your shirt. The family name stretches a bit more across your bust than the original design intended. Even your face was a little chubbier than normal. When was the last time your jaw was like this? High school?

When did you get like this?

You felt your throat start to burn, a sob building in your system. You’ve always been fine with your body, loving the dips and curves. Adoring your flaws and finding beauty in what society decides is not worthy.

You knew this. You knew that you were beautiful. Why was it so hard to get that thought into your conscience?

You felt the tears roll down as you peeled the jeans off of your legs. They were especially tight at your hips and you wondered how you even forced them past in the first place.

You didn’t know what to do. It was so hot outside, so you needed something comfortable, but those jeans…you had your mind set to wear those jeans.

You rummage through your closet in frustration, pushing and pulling the clothes across the rack.

By the time Miguel found you, you were squatting in the closet, hot tears covering your face.

“Babe, it’s been almost 30 minutes and we need to head out before the work traffic starts-”

Miguel stopped in the doorway as he noticed the state of the closet, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? ¿Que pasó, cariño?”

You wipe furiously at your face, sniffling loud as you hear Miguel push clothes to the side to get to you.

“My pants don’t fit. I don’t think anything else will fit either,” you say, stuttering out your words as Miguel gets to your side.

You let him pull you up into a standing position. You felt defeated.

Miguel looked at you and wiped away the tears that you missed. You feel horrible as your face scrunches up again, tears forming in your eyes.

“No, no, no,” Miguel says, hugging you close. “Listen to me. I know that this feels like a lot, but this is normal. Your body will always change with you. You’re still the same beautiful, gorgeous woman I met years ago and that’s not changing because you got some extra hips, baby.”

“But Miguel,” you say, voice so sad. “I feel like I just got those pants. And. Nothing else in here goes with this shirt. I’m scared that nothing else will fit-”

“And if that’s the case, I’ll buy you new clothes,” Miguel says, pressing kisses over your face. “If these clothes mean that much to you, I’ll take you to the gym. Let me work out with you, but until then, I’m loving your body as is.”

You stare at Miguel, heart beating at his revelation. He stared right back at you, daring you to question or challenge his words.

“Don’t beat yourself up over something like this. If anyone has ever let you feel insecure about your body, they’re an ass, let me deal with them. If I ever do anything to make you feel insecure, tell me. Yell at me. Question me, because as far as I’m concerned, that’s not me.”

He hiked you up on the closet island in the middle of the room. You shiver a bit as your naked legs hit the wood.

He leans closer, placing his hands on the side of you, “Now, let’s think. Don’t you have a pair of cargo shorts that match the ones I’m wearing right now?”

You whisper out a yes.

“Would you be ok with wearing those? I’m sure they fit perfectly.”

You say yes again, head leaning onto his. You could accessorize it perfectly. It would make a great couple’s look.

Miguel knew this much, he just had to get you to see it.

“I love you, ok?” he says, voice clear.

“I love you, too. Thank you,” you say.

“Anything for my girl,” Miguel says. “My beautiful girl. She’s just for me. I can’t believe it.”

Your heart beats faster as he starts to kiss down your body.

“Her face is so lovely.” A kiss to your cheek and your lips.

“She’s always working so hard.” A kiss to your neck and your collarbone. He pulls your shirt over your head.

“She makes me so happy.” A suck to your breasts as he unclasps your bra.

“Her body is beyond comparison.” A trail of kisses down your stomach, your belly twitching as his breath twinkles on along your skin. “Soft. Amazing. Irresistible.”

“Her thighs are my earmuffs.” A caress to your inner thighs. Your legs snap a bit, ticklish at his ministrations.

“Miguel?” you whimper out.

“I have to relax you before this ride. Can’t have you upset,” he says, kissing his way up your thighs to your panties. “May I?”

You nod your head, fingers grasping at nothing but then a flat surface.

Miguel was swift. He pulled your underwear down and kissed at your clit. You could only hold tight as he pulled your body forward and dove in.

It wasn’t long before you were shaking like a leaf. Miguel sucked at you for minutes, pulling a long orgasm out of your system.

He kneaded your thighs as you trembled around his tongue, humming as your legs squeezed tighter. That was the queue for him to go further, so he added his fingers to the mix, moving his mouth up so that his fingers could pump in and out of you.

It took all of your strength not to let your body drop off the other side of the island.

“Miggy, please,” you wailed. You wanted more.

Miguel looked up at you whining above him. You pull your legs up, holding your hands under your thighs, practically begging for him.

Miguel kissed up your body again. He was swift with removing his clothes. You still had to have these clothes fresh for later and Miguel was about to wear you out.

He moved to push himself inside of you, grunting as you gripped him.

He replaced your hands with his and pulled your legs up by his head. You balanced yourself on the island as he slowly started to thrust.

“So good. Just for me,” Miguel said, watching as your body moved with his movement. “Perfect. And all mine.”

You remained quiet, whimpering softly as he dragged against you.

“You heard me, hermosa?” Miguel said. “You’re beautiful. C’mon. Say it for me.”

“I’m,” you stopped, mind foggy. You didn’t know how you were supposed to respond when he was going so deep.

“Say it.”

You cried out as he snapped harder, “I’m beautiful.”

“That’s right baby,” Miguel praises you, bending further to give you a kiss. “So amazing.”

He praised you until you finished, squeezing at any of you that he got his hands. By the time he was done, your arms felt like jelly from holding you up.

He carried you to the bathroom for a quick shower, never stopping his reassurances of you.

You guys made it in the car an hour and a half off schedule, but it was worth it for the uplifted way you carried yourself throughout the day.

It was worth it to see you happy and healthy.

By the time you made it to the reunion, it was like you were born anew. You greeted your family with smiles and laughter. Miguel couldn’t help but to cheese watching you do your thing.

He felt his heart soar as you caught up with family. Your smile was the biggest as you were out on the floor line dancing your heart out. He was right up behind you when Outstanding came on. The song was really a declaration of how he felt about you.

You giggled as he crooned in your ear.

“You light my fire,” he sang, swinging your hips in time with his.

“I feel alive with you, baby,” he spins you around to him, a smile on his face.

“You blow my mind,” he pulled you out and back in.

“I’m satisfied,” you squeal as he spins you in the air and puts you back down to keep dancing.

Outstanding. You really knock him out.

Another season where Miguel adored you more.

Another season where Miguel wanted you to be forever his.

Another season where he made sure he fed you well.

Another season of you making his heart pound.

Another season of your love reaching to the fullest.

Miguel was excited for the next season with you.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading! 💗

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. Let me know how you feel! 🥺🧁

Until next time,

-Lauro 💗

[concretecultist]

Hey! Would you be up for writing Matt smut? Author’s choice on the topic!

I love a little angst so I had to add a little bit of that in here if that was okay!

THIS IS ALL FICTIONAL. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THESE THEMES.

18+!!!!

Warnings: a lil bit of angst, smut, p in v , oral (f and m receiving) unprotected sex, mentions of crying

A/n: I don’t know how to write short stories so I hope that it’s okay that it’s not a Drabble or anything. Pls reblog if you enjoyed 🥰

~Berry🫐

———

“Your job always comes first, I get it,” here you are, once again just hoping Matt would compromise. His visits are always short, he’s always on the road, home doesn’t feel like home anymore.

“Oh come on, don’t say it like that,” Matt was tired of the back and forth too, but there was only so much he could do, the guys were blowing up and this was his job, he can’t abandon that.

“Like what?,” you wanted to hide the tears, you hated for him to see you cry, even after years of being together, crying was something you still felt ashamed about, you were working on that though.

“As if you come second!,”

“Don’t I though?,” with a squint of your eyes you tilt your head in hopes to get your point across, “This job… this life is who you were before you met me and it will always be who you are. It will always come first and I’m not expecting you to completely abandon that responsibility but I have sacrificed to be there for you. I have exceeded my vacation time to fly with you the moment you ask. All I want is a little more time with you than a week every other month,”

There was a silence that filled the air and honestly, there was nothing Matt could really say. You have sacrificed a lot. You’ve pulled late nights at work just to build more PTO to travel with him, you’ve missed out on office parties because he was supposed to be your plus one but something came up to where he couldn’t be there.

But even the traveling with him wasn’t enough.

You wanted something domestic. Something that didn’t involve tight bunk beds, jet lag and itchy hotel towels.

You wanted movie nights in the solace of your own home, bubble baths together, morning walks and home cooked meals. Obviously, you knew what you signed up for but it was getting a little harder to handle now and you just wanted him there.

“So, where do we go from here?,” he was worried to hear you answer. Was this an ideal situation? No. But you were worth it, and when Matt envisions settling down, you’re there. He knows this is hard but he just needs you to hold on a little longer.

“We move forward,” you answer as if it was simple, and really, it was. “This is hard but at least I still get to call you mine at the end of the day. I still get to call you and say I love you and when you are home, I get to feel your warm embrace and enjoy your company. I know this is your dream and you love it so I’m willing to be patient.. All I want is a little more effort,”

“I’ll give it,” he answered quickly, “I’ll give it. I’ll do more, I will try harder because I don’t want to lose you. You’re endgame… I just want to build a life for us and this is the only way I know how,”

You can see the cogs turning in his mind and he’s starting to overthink this. So you’re pulling him on to the bed with you to climb in his lap.

“Listen,” you sigh with a kiss to his cheek, ‘I don’t want to spend the rest of our time arguing about this. There are… other ways we could be spending our time,”

He hears the teasing edge in your tone and he perks up like a curious dog and you love the way the smirk grows on his face.

“Do tell?,”

“I think the best way to let the other know that we missed each other isn’t by going back and forth about it, but by… proving it,”

You remove the hat that has become a daily accessory.

“I know you missed the way I kissed right here,” your tone is dressed with desire when you kiss right under his ear, once the kiss is planted, you feel him shiver, “I know you missed the way I wear your Cannibal Corpse shirt with just a pair of underwear like I am now,”

You would be the death of this man. Being on the road was hard enough but not being able to be intimate with his girl was torture.

So he took control, like he always does and suddenly you feel shy.

Matt was a lover boy and just like you always made sure he felt loved and handsome, he makes sure you feel loved and beautiful. He knows that after so much time spent apart that you begin feel self conscious about showing yourself to him.

His hand makes its way up under the shirt to cup your breasts to feel your nipples harden under his touch.

It never fails. He knows how to melt your worries away with a simple touch.

“I love it when you look at me like,” he beams, his smile was healing, every time he smiled it was like you were floating because it was a smile made for you.

“Like what?,” your eyes are glazed over now, under his spell of casual dominance

“Like I hung the stars in the sky by hand, one by one,” his head dips down to plant kisses all over your stomach, a finger dipping under the waistband of your panties, spreading the wetness that was there for him to devour.

His lips were on your clit in no time, your hands tangling in his hair. It’s like every time he goes down on you, your lungs are pumped full of the freshest air. He always took care of you and he could always tell that was a fact with the way you would call out his name.

“Mattyyyyyy,” he could reel an orgasm out of you in record time, you were his girl and it was only fair that he do just that.

Despite you just cumming around his fingers, he wasn’t ready to withdraw them from you, so he kept moving them in and out of you at a tantalizing pace. He was hypnotized by the way you coated his fingers, like his appendages were a painting but it wasn’t complete until they were coated with a gloss.

“I want to take care of you,” an exhausted voice rings through his ears, pulling him out of his daze.

“You are,” he answered plainly.

Matt was the type of guy to get his rocks off from his girl being well taken care of. He loved it when you took care of him, however, letting him take care of you was indeed, you taking care of him.

“No, I NEED to take care of you,” you sit up and pull away which caused Matt to whine as his fingers were removed from your core, “I spent too long without the weight of you in my mouth. I just wanna take care of you,”

How could he say no when you sound so pretty like that? With that needy pout.

It wasn’t long before you find yourself flat on your stomach in between his legs with his heavy length in your mouth. He was a pretty man but this angle right here? With his head propped up on some pillows, looking down at you with hooded eyes, sweat beading on his forehead, little gasps escaping his pink, parted lips? It was an unmatched view. It was a view that you wanted tattooed on your skin, it was an image worth hanging up on your wall.

“Just like that, baby,” his thumb caressed your cheek while you made a mess in his lap, spit dripping down your chin, pretty doe eyes staring back up at him, if you didn’t stop, he was going to cum and he didn’t want to cum just yet. He’s gone long enough without being inside you and he’ll be damned if he cums anywhere else.

But he wasn’t ready to remove himself from your mouth just yet.

Your tongue circled him so well, you gagged around him so deliciously, the way you made sure to pay his balls some attention while stroking him always had his heels digging into the mattress.

“Baby please,” his plea was a mixture of a whimper and a groan and you knew you had to give him a break. Pulling off of him with a pop, you were back in his lap, lips immediately attaching to his so that he could taste himself off your tongue and you could taste yourself off of his.

You don’t know how much time has passed as you could kiss him forever if you could, but Matt couldn’t handle the feeling of you dripping onto him, he couldn’t handle the pulsing of your core.

You were about to take off the shirt you’re wearing but he stopped you, “Keep it on,” he demanded so sweetly.

“Not to cover you up but, I just like taking you when you wear my clothes,” he was so gentle when flipping you over and lifting the shirt up just enough to reveal your breasts in which he took in his mouth, working up the courage to slide in. He was just so nervous that he would bust embarrassingly quick.

“Mattyyy,” it was a sweet hum, a call to him that he wouldn’t dare ignore.

“I got you, honey,” removing himself from your chest to use one hand to hold the back of your head as he pressed his forehead against yours, and using the other to guide himself into you.

Both of your mouths hung open as he slid in. He breathed in your moan as if to siphon your life force to keep him alive.

Your thighs were wide open, heels resting on his lower back as he built up a pace. He was hitting every spot. It was too good and yet you couldn’t close your eyes because how do you tear them away when he’s staring you directly into your soul?

“Don’t stop,” is all you can say, “Please, please, please,”

He uses his free hand to take one of your legs and push it back until it’s touching your chest. This new angle brings tears to your eyes as it helps him dig deeper until you feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck, I missed you!,” your hands wrap around his neck just needing to feel him under your touch.

“I know, baby. I missed you too,”

The kiss he delivers is packed with need and frustration. He needs you so bad and your circumstances keep this from happening more often, but it also makes these moments so much more fulfilling.

It was so difficult to focus on one sensation that it felt like you were about to crumble into pieces. The feeling of his lips on yours, teeth clashing, feeling him grip your hair at the back of your head, feeling the skin of his forehead on yours. The way he won’t break your eye contact, the feeling of his breathy moans on your lips.

It was pushing you closer to the edge and you couldn’t help the tears from flowing.

Then you have the feeling of his hand tightly gripping the crease of your knee like his life depended on it. But you know it was to keep him grounded so he didn’t cum before you did. Then you have his pelvis grinding onto your clit as he rolled his hips into you. The feeling of his tip nudging your cervix and the length of him hitting every other spot that caused you to tremble in his grasp.

“Matty I think.. it’s too much, I can’t,”

“You’re almost there, baby. You know I got you, you can do it,”

You had no choice but to tighten your grip. Your eyes had no choice but to flutter as he picked up the pace, pelvis slapping against yours when he sat back on his heels to drink in the view of your fucked out face with your breasts on display in his shirt.

“No!, come back, please. Come back, come back,” you really just needed him near. Even with him literally inside of you, he was just too far away.

He understands, he just needed to take a mental picture of how ethereal you look right now.

“I’m right here,” his forehead is on yours once more and his swollen lips are tangling with yours for the umpteenth time tonight.

“You can do it, baby. Can you cum for me? I know it’s a lot but you can do it,”

The way he coaxed you was your undoing.

You didn’t care how loud you were as your orgasm ripped you apart at the seams, taking every ounce of energy, it felt so good you couldn’t help but sob.

“That’s it,” he whispered, “That’s my girl,”

With a few more strokes, due to you throbbing around him, Matt’s resolve unraveled and he was spilling inside of you. Both of you huffing and trying to catch your breath.

He tried to get off of you to clean you up but you wrapped your arms even tighter around his neck and whimpered one simple word.

“No,”

“I have to clean you up,”

“I really just need you close, Matty. Please don’t leave right now. Just stay,”

He could hear the desperation in your voice. It was a sound he hadn’t heard in a while.

For the duration of your relationship, you’d kept a brave face, always keeping in mind that you will see Matt again, that you will hold him and kiss him and laugh with him again.

But tonight the brave face had to be hung up on the wall and it was now time to wear the face of vulnerability.

“Just stay right here, a little longer. Please?,”

How could he say no?

You loved the feeling of him weighing you down because it helped remind you that he was here, that he was real.

Matt made it look easy, to be able to leave and not get emotional. But little did you know, it’s been eating him up inside for ages.

He knew something would have to give.

[inkblot-inc]

Cruisin' For A Bruisin'

Summary: The crew is on a much needed (and definitely deserved) vacation from hero-ing about. It's important to remember that you can plan out a trip, but you can't anticipate everything that happens on said trip.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mutant!TigerShark!Reader

[AU Masterlist] Arc 2: This is Part 1

Warning(s): This one's pretty wholesome for the most part, but I will say there are some descriptions of violence. Also strong language, but if you've been here long enough you know that-

Note(s): WELCOME TO ARC 2 BAYBEE! Jaws is back and I could not be any more excited to get back into this shit! As far as I can tell arc 2 is definitely gonna be longer than arc 1, but I hope y'all enjoy :3

Word Count: Skidding pass 2.9k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit!

It'd been a little over a year since you'd joined the Avengers. There were certainly a few incidents here and there, the biggest being the dismantling of the Red Room which, incidentally, led to Natasha reuniting with her folks.

It was certainly one way to meet your girlfriend's family, that's for sure...

Things seemed to finally take time to settle, at least for a little while.

It was newly June and you along with Natasha, Wanda, and Vision were set to go on the cruise trip you'd booked around Christmas time last year.

---

"How were you able to swing two months off mission calls, babe?" You looked up from packing your suitcase at Natasha's voice, a small smirk growing on your face.

You made your way over to Natasha before wrapping your arms around her waist. "Well, I'm still not greenlit to go out in the field for a slew of reasons, Wanda's only put on for specific assignments, Vision's her plus one, and you have, what? Three years' worth of PTO? We're in the clear, Natty. The team will be fine for a month or two."

Natasha let out a hum of agreement before she brought you closer for a kiss. "That- and you harassed Tony to figure it out."

You raised a brow in mock confusion, "I thought that part was obvious." Your mouth pulled into a genuine gleaming smile as you got a laugh out of Natasha as she wrapped her own arms around your neck. "You're a menace."

"Is that meant to be a bad thing?" Your lips met in another kiss.

"Never a bad thing."

As the two of you finished packing, you met up with Wanda in the Common Room of the compound, where she was talking with Vision. The atmosphere was sullen with only one set of bags on the couch.

"What's goin' on? Did they not have SPF50 at the Walgreens?" You set yours and Natasha's bags down before going to get the keys to the Quinjet. "I'm sure we could find robo-sunscreen on the way, man."

Vision looked at the back of his hand for a good second. "I don't think I would need protection from the sun, seeing as my skin is-"

You came and wrapped your arm around the synthezoid's neck, jangling the jet keys by his ear. "Joking! Again. If anything, we'll just cook eggs on you when you overheat like a copper pan. We aren't gonna be on an air-conditioned boat the whole time you know." And just like that, the light atmosphere you'd created sunk back down as Wanda and Vision looked at each other. You looked between the two in clear confusion, "Alright, what's the deal?"

Vision eyed Wanda for a bit longer before turning to look at you and Natasha, who just came into the room. "I'm afraid I won't be able to accompany the three of you on this vacation. I will be remaining on call."

You tossed the Quinjet keys to Natasha as she came further into the room. "That's ridiculous, we all sent in time off notices weeks before now. How'd this even come about?"

Vision let out a sigh, "Captain Rogers came to me with concerns of being understaffed during the next few months with the search for HYDRA operatives still ongoing; With Dr. Banner still off-world, Mr. Barton indisposed with his with his family, and Mr. Stark only expected half of the time, it is rather easy for me to see Captain Rogers' point. Out of the four of us approved for time off, it was determined that I would be the one to stay behind in case of emergency."

---

You'd spent the cruise enjoying each stop between Hawaii and French Polynesia, and it's been anything but a normal experience with you around as the agent of chaos.

Wanda made sure to get plenty of pictures to cement the new memories. There's photos of you "hugging" a manta ray, Wanda and Natasha relaxing on the beach in Bora Bora, several pictures at dinner, and even one of all three of you having an absolute ball watching one of the night shows in Samoa.

Your most recent picture was a group one after you laid on a blowhole in Savai'i. You almost gave the nearby family of five a heart attack, but it was still fun to do.

The last two weeks have been a welcome break for the three of you. Despite some of your more "peculiar" ways of having fun, this has been a freeing and relaxing time. No missions, no threats; a true vacation.

Wanda was currently in her cabin across the hall from yours and Natasha's on her nightly call with Vision. Next time he had to come, Steve be damned. Wanda was a good sport about it when Vision was called in at the last minute, but you all wished he was here as well.

Natasha had taken to video calling with Yelena as well, though they weren't as frequent with her being on her own mission.

You had your own time to talk with Yelena that mainly consisted of her cosigning whatever fuckery you were up to on your vacation.

Part of it might be just to get a reaction out of Natasha.....Which she always did-

It was wonderful to see Natasha just unwound and be less serious, Yelena is one of those people that just pulls it out of her.

Their Relationship had noticeably improved since they were brought back together last year, after learning more about each other that they hadn't had the privilege to learn before, having been separated for their most formative years.

-----

You and Natasha sat on the secluded deck connected to your cabin. The open air was refreshing as you let Natasha lean back into your arms, watching the sunset on the water.

"I'll be honest and say that I can't choose between Tahiti or Savai'i,"

You placed your head on top of Natasha's. "It's always going to be Enoka for me. It was so long ago, but can remember the views on the island as clear as day." Your words were less clear, almost like you were talking through your teeth. "The white sand beaches occupied by damn near everyone in the mornings, green peaks covered in flowers, the quiet that surrounded the deep waters at night... Seeing the sun make everything above me glimmer while it was up high in the sky. Those small "nothing" memories are one of the few things I haven't lost to time... I just wish I had pictures to show it to you."

Natasha slowly rubbed your forearm that was across her stomach as she encouraged your rare moment of open vulnerability. "Well that's why we're doing this. Making new memories closer to home..."

You focused on the soothing gesture as you thought of those same flickering pictures taken through a toddling interpretation.

In the morning you, Natasha, and Wanda were going to part from the cruise ship and make your way to where Enoka would be via a smaller, personal yacht (paid for by you, modified by Tony, who was convinced to do so by Pepper).

There's nothing that could ruin this moment for you. With two of your favorite people by your side, you were going to visit what's no more than a watery lump of land that once was your home and put it to rest for good.

-----

After leaving the cruise ship, Wanda focused on directing the three of you through the smaller crowds of people walking in the opposite direction away from the docks. "What's this boat called again? Delilah?"

Natasha unfolded the small piece of paper in her hand to reread the messy script, "The Blue Delilah. It should be near the end of the pier."

You grasped one of their wrists in each hand, "It's just up ahead!" Both Wanda and Natasha cringed slightly as you just barely missed bulldozing a group of people on your way to the boat that turned out to be a custom Sunseeker 76 yacht.

before the three of you boarded the yacht, a brown-haired man wearing thin rectangular glasses came up to the three of you with a gleam in his eyes. Your eyes narrowed at the camera in his hand before he even started speaking. "I'm really sorry to bother the three of you, but you're Avengers, right?"

You just blankly stared at the man while Natasha, while also on guard, she was more cordial when she addressed the man. "We're not exactly on duty right now, but did you want something?"

Wanda noticed that there was a dark haired woman not too far behind him simply staring at the yacht before looking toward the three of you. The bespectacled man, who began perspiring the longer you stared him down, jumped to answer. "I just wanted to get a picture with you guys, my wife and I are really grateful that you all are around to protect us."

The three of you looked at each other. While all of you weren't keen on taking pictures, the couple seemed harmless enough, Wanda read as much from both of their thoughts. The man, Graydon, was both nervous and excited; worried that he'd come off as a creep that was bothering them. His wife, Tara, had a similar train of thought in not wanting to bother the three public. Tara's mind was notably much quieter than her husband's; presumably the result of a calming tactic.

Wanda mentally relayed this to both you and Natasha before the three of you finished wordlessly discussing the matter. With Natasha nodding, Wanda spoke to the couple. "One picture wouldn't hurt."

Graydon's face lit up as he gestured for his wife to come closer, essentially saying they were in the clear. Tara came to stand on the other side of Wanda while Graydon went to find a passerby to take the picture on his camera. After he showed a willing older man how to snap the photo, he stood on the right of Natasha with a rather dorky thumbs up.

You left your mask on, put you arms over Natasha's and Wanda's shoulders and squinted your eyes a bit to give the illusion of a more positive emotion on your face as the brief flash irritated your eyes.

After the picture was taken, Graydon rushed over to the volunteer cameraman to see how it came out. Tara turned to Wanda with a small smile as she exited her personal space after a small shaking of hands. " Thank you for indulging us, and it really is a pleasure to meet you, Misty Red."

Wanda watched the dark-haired woman walk away in confusion. "Misty Red? Who's that?" Natasha raised a single brow while all you did was laugh at Wanda's expense.

Natasha's confusion didn't last long with her own deduction skills. "Apparently that's what the people are calling you," a slow smirk made it's way to Natasha's lips as you were still laughing, "I mean, it does makes sense." The redhead was the first to turn and make her way toward the ramp of the yacht.

"I can't decide if they made you sound like a wrestler or a porn star! I just-" You broke another bout of laughter.

Wanda's eyes narrowed at your juvenile line of thought as she crossed her arms. "It isn't even that funny, Jaws. You're just milking it at this point,"

You took a second to recover from your laughter, "It's funny to me. You don't gotta get it cuz I think it's funny. There's no shame in what you do, Wandy."

Natasha rose her shoulders as she continued to make her way onto the boat. "That's just what happens when you let the public name you."

Wanda almost felt the need to defend her lack of an alias, "I didn't think it had to be very high on my list of priorities!"

You lightly pushed the brunette forward and up the ramp to The Blue Delilah. "Uh huh, get on the boat, Misty Red."

---

When You, Natasha, and Wanda all made it onto The Blue Delilah, a smaller inconspicuous boat pulled off behind it at the same time, noticing that the yacht had a discreet Stark Industries logo. Their plan isn't clear at the moment, but it is clear that they're tailing The Blue Delilah. They follow a long way behind, but have their own tracker placed on the ship so they don't lose the yacht.

The three of you were on the private yacht for about four days so far travelling to Enoka.

Note: All citizens of Enoka have the location of Enoka ingrained in their brains, so Jaws always knows where it is. This is a similar practice for the inhabitants of a certain other living island...

As you got closer to the island, it was clear that it's not completely submerged, but it definitely looks different to how you remember.

The goal now was to see if there were any inhabitants on the island that were still alive and who survived the flood over a decade ago.

You didn't voice it, but there was a new sense of anxiousness and hope that started brewing in you at the prospect of going home.

Maybe there actually was a "home" there left...

-----

About a day out from the Island, the engine to The Blue Delilah seemed to stutter, so you went to check it out and before you reach the engine room on the back pad, you noticed large ripples from something that dove back into the water.

Soon after you heard sounds of a struggle on the yacht and booked it back to where Wanda and Natasha were.

There were two attackers engaged in fighting with the two women, four were on the floor unconscious already. It's rather bold for a group of six, well seven.

Jaws grabbed the arm of the seventh attacker that tried to sneak up on them and threw them over their shoulder.

The attacker you were dealing with was a woman and she had armor that stood out a bit more than the others; she had less of it, toned brown skin shown through the large gaps between the armor pieces, and the shoulders were a bit more prickly and menacing in comparison.

'Definitely their leader.'

You raised an eyebrow at the sort of reptilian bone mask obscuring most of the woman's face. "What, were you too good for Bleach?"

You can see the woman visibly squint behind her mask before she grabs two daggers from their place on her hips, "I know fuckin' Kisame isn't talkin' about me, "

Your own eyes narrowed at her retort. 'Well fuck you, too.'

With both of you having been insulted by the other, the two of you rushed each other. The two of you were essentially going blow for blow for a while before you knocked the bone mask off of your attacker's face.

It revealed more dusky brown skin, a few scars on her face and a tattoo of some kind under her right eye. The woman turned to face you fully, wiping blood off the corner of her lip. "You might be one of the more skilled pirates I've come across. It's a shame I consider your life past tense already."

Suddenly, the woman then tackled you off the yacht, knocking your breathing apparatus off in the process, hoping to hold you down and drown you herself. Her daggers reaching to slice at your now exposed neck.

Putting her knife up to your neck, she then notices the gills on each side of it, which throws her off.

It's then, underwater, that she gets a good look at you before her eyes widen considerably, confusing you.

"Y/n, is that really you?"

There's that name, your name. Hardly anyone called you by your given name when you were little, and you hardly cared, but...

"Ys tath uyo, Y/n?"

Your own eyes widen at the familiar language coming from this woman's mouth. Only one person would really insist on using it back then...

"Sienna?"

And with that one word, the woman threw her daggers to the side leaving them to float in the water away from the two of you before tightly wrapping her arms around your neck. You hug her back just so.

After the two of you pulled away, she almost immediately slapped you with a new fire in her molten brown eyes.

"Agh shit! Did you grow talons?!" It wasn't hard enough to actually hurt, but you definitely felt the woman's nails drag across your face.

"Ehrwe ni eth FUCK veah uyo eneb?! Y thugoth uy' DDEA lla heste rayse!"

Sienna went to smack you again before you held both of her wrists in your hands to keep her at bay, your eyebrows furrowed. "Y itd'dn eyrall cieded ot velae, ni cesa uy' omowesh trogof!"

Sienna shook her head as she struggled to get free of your grip, her dark locs waving wildly in under the water. "Elt og of 'em! Y vat'ehn retnotfog shit!" Sienna then began to try and kick at you to let her go, so you brought her into another hug as she resisted.

Her attempts grew more and more feeble as the power behind her punches to your chest fizzled out. It was only then that you realized she was crying.

Sienna's voice was raw and heavy with emotion, "Ehrwe ddi uyo og?! Y odloke nad Y odloke nad Y odloke lla rove rof uyo..."

You let her sob into your chest as you held her, floating in the underwater quiet.

"Y'm ghrit ehre, sersit."

** footnote: I wanted to use a completely different script for the Enokan language being spoken, but I couldn't find a way to import it so that it was shown, so instead I made a simple code using typoglycemia (aka just unscramble the letters of each word). To make it so that it didn't look as clunky, I sometimes replaced (i) with (y). Some words that end with vowels may have an apostrophe that takes the place of the vowel. Apostrophes can also be found at the beginning of words with vowels for fluidity's sake. I didn't think swears should be scrambled cuz that just *looks* off to me. The point of these changes is to have this resemble a spoken language more than it is a blatant tactic to confuse you.

Here's a word unscrambler in case you need it

[silvermoon424]

I can't fucking get over how much I love my new job and how well it treats me.

We're going on a retreat next week for a few days and it counts for time worked. I talked to the actual CEO yesterday (she's talking to everyone) and she talked about how dedicated she is to letting people work remotely because she trusts us and doesn't want to micromanage us. I just had my annual review (nothing but praise) and got a 5% raise. The benefits are amazing.

Literally my one and only complaint is the PTO accrual system due to all the time I have to take off due to my chronic condition, but it sounds like they're going to do their best to work with me on that. And even then I still get 4 weeks of vacation time a year plus sick time.

We're not even a huge company or anything. These policies could be implemented almost anywhere else and corporations would still make millions in profit every year. It's crazy how actually being decent to your employees is such a rarity in corporate America.

[shion-yu]

Ice Cream for Dinner

Chicken pox sucks. Some Shu and Alex father-son caretaking with a shocking lack of angst. This is pure fluff folks. To the anons who requested stories with Shu and Ryo sick, they’re in progress! But this is Alex’s turn, lol. 2,275 words, no TWs, CW sick 13 year old.

It turns out that having a kid in school for the first time means getting sick with every nasty school kid disease they bring home, and it doesn't matter if that kid isn't in preschool - middle school works just as well. In the year since Alex has come to live with Shu, Shu's been sick enough to miss work at least five times and had the sniffles on and off for the rest of the year. 

He doesn't blame Alex, who seems to find Shu’s pathetic immune system somewhat amusing as long as Shu's relatively okay. Shu would rather Alex not worry about him anyways. However it definitely doesn't soften the blow that Alex stays healthy almost no matter what. He was sick once with that upper respiratory infection but that was it - otherwise the kid's been the picture of health and Shu wonders how such a skinny kid has such an immune system of steel. 

"What did your mother feed you?" Shu asked him after he was diagnosed with yet another round of strep throat that had left him absolutely miserable for the past several days, but had somehow completely missed Alex.

"Mostly cereal," Alex said dryly. It came with a heavy undertone of 'if at all.' Shu sighed and went back to blowing his nose miserably. It seemed there was no secret there other than youth and a big attitude. 

It was annoying to be sick all of the time, but Shu just kept telling himself that at least it wasn't Alex. Plus, on the bright side, he had pretty much infinite PTO to spend on sick days since he'd barely taken a vacation in the past ten years working for the same company. His most important job was to take care of Alex and as long as he could manage that while ill, he could avoid calling his mom to take over. That had only happened twice so far, which seemed like a win all things considered.

With all of this in mind, Shu was quite eager to enjoy the days when he was neither sick nor being called into the principal's office to discuss the behavior of his unruly charge. Both had been true this week and Shu told Alex that they were going to enjoy the Fall leaves with a walk on the Hudson. Alex rolled his eyes and told him he'd rather sit at home and watch paint dry.

"Well, too bad because there's no paint to watch dry," Shu said cheerfully. "Unless you'd like to change our activity to painting your bedroom together, those walls could use it." A fresh coat of paint would hide all the plastered-over holes Alex had punched through. But Alex seemed to think a walk was less painful (or at least significantly faster) than painting a room together, so chose the walk.

It was a bit cold out and Shu bundled up in a scarf and his warm peacoat. He encouraged Alex to wear his own warm coat and a hat, but of course that meant Alex did the exact opposite and wore his light Jean jacket, no hat, and what seemed like useless fingerless gloves. Shu didn't argue though, he was just glad they managed to get out the door. 

It was a pleasant walk on the river side, despite the cool breeze. Shu was happy about all the bright orange and red leaves, something Alex wasn't that used to given he'd spent most of his childhood in California. Shu did the vast majority of the talking, but that was to be expected. However after a while he noticed Alex shivering and subtly cut their walk short by crossing the closest bridge and turning towards the direction of the car to complete their loop.

"Want my scarf?" Shu asked casually. 

"Nah," Alex said. He looked distracted and kept scratching the back of his neck. 

Shu kept an eye on Alex as they walked back and noticed Alex seemed to be dragging his feet more and more the longer they walked. "You okay buddy?" Shu asked him.

"I'm fine," Alex responded predictably and picked up the pace. Shu went back to talking about Avatar the Last Airbender, hoping Alex would relate to Shu's fondness of it since it was known to be a popular cartoon. "Will you stop? I don't know that show," Alex snapped irritably. Well, that didn't work, Shu thought. They fell quiet until Shu caught Alex trailing behind again, this time itching his head.

Suddenly the thought of lice popped into Shu’s mind. He stopped and waited for Alex to bump into him. 

"What now?" Alex scowled. 

"Anyone at school have lice? Or scabies?" Shu asked cautiously. Alex made a disgusted face, though whether it was regarding the vermin or Shu himself was unclear. Possibly both.

"I don't have lice," Alex snapped. "Those don't feel like this."

"Then what does this feel like?" Shu asked, leaping on the fact that Alex had inadvertently admitted that some discomfort was present at all.

Alex growled and started jogging towards the car. Shu tried to keep up, but the kid was way too fast for his own good. At least, usually he was, except today by the time he reached the parking lot he was panting as hard as Shu was. He looked pale - well, paler than usual - and Shu frowned, moving his hand forward to check Alex for fever. Alex yelped and dodged him, glaring. "What are you doing?! Don't touch me!"

"I wanted to see if you had a fever. Bud, do you feel okay?" Shu asked.

"No, I feel like you just forced me on a stupid walk in the cold. Let's just go home already!" Alex snapped. Shu tried not to smile at the use of the word home as it most certainly would not earn him any points right now. He relented instead and got into the driver's seat, making sure Alex buckled up (once, this was another heated point of contention) before he pulled out of the gravel parking lot. 

The drive home was about thirty minutes. Alex leaned against the door and pulled his knees close to his chest, making him look ever more childish. He was thirteen and as gangly and tall as a mung bean sprout, Shu's mom said, but he still acted like a kid. He wasn't mature and given everything he'd been through, Shu expected it might take him longer than other kids to get a handle on his emotions. That didn't mean it was easy to get through all the fighting and outbursts, but Shu told himself it was just something they’d have to work through together. Alex was already doing so much better than when he'd first come to live with Shu, after all. Progress felt slow at times, but it was there. 

Progress was Alex admitting to Shu as they pulled into the driveway, "I don't feel good." 

Shu made himself not-smile at Alex trusting him to know that and said, "Let's get you inside and in bed then." Alex went straight to his room and changed into comfortable clothes, then dove under the blankets, shivering. Shu brought in the thermometer and Tylenol and sat on the edge of Alex's bed. Alex was scratching his chest and looked flushed.

"Can we take your temp?" Shu asked. Alex grumbled but obeyed. 100.8. Shu cringed - Alex really was sick. Shu felt bad he'd forced Alex to go out for a cold walk with a fever, but he hadn't known. "Sorry bud, you're definitely sick. Now what're you itching, can you show me?"

Alex reluctantly dropped his hand. Shu delicately peered at Alex's neck and down Alex's shirt. There were a handful of red marks that looked like pimples. Shu tried to think of what they would be and came to a quick conclusion: "Alex, have you had chickenpox before?"

Alex shook his head no. Shu grimaced. "Well I think you've got them now." Alex should have been vaccinated, but Shu suddenly remembered the long list of 'religious' waivers Alex's parents had signed to get him into school with the bare minimum of requirements. He'd been meaning to get those updated but they'd just been so busy that Shu must have forgotten to reschedule that vaccine clinic visit they'd missed. Crap. If Shu remembered correctly, there wasn't much to do for chicken pox other than stop Alex from itching and keep the fever down. "I think I'll call the pediatrician. Maybe we can avoid a trip to the office for you, okay?"

That seemed to earn Shu a few points and Alex nodded. Shu called the doctor's office from his spot on Alex's bed and managed to get a nurse on the phone who went over the list of symptoms, which Shu then relayed to Alex before confirming or denying. Headache? Check. Sore throat? Check. Itchy rash that looked like little red bumps? Definitely. 

"Sounds like chicken pox, and if he does have them it's better you keep him at home away from any other kids at the office," the nurse said. "No school until the blisters are gone, about a week. Keep him from scratching. You can do Tylenol and calamine lotion and Benedryl but as long as his fever stays under 102 after meds he should be fine. Good luck." 

Shu didn't know if he liked the sound of her good luck, because that meant she thought he'd need it. Shu sighed and hung up. "Well, guess you've got all of next week off school," Shu said. "Any requests? Books? Soup?"

"I wanna sleep," Alex said grouchily. Shu had expected that. He made sure Alex took his Tylenol and gave him a bottle of calamine lotion to dot onto the pox and then left him alone to stew in his teenage misery. He was sure Alex’s friend Ryo would be getting a slew of upset texts any second now. 

Shu mostly tried to let Alex be alone like he wanted, but the problem was that Alex got bored very quickly and soon wandered out to the rest of the house, scratching and whining about anything and everything. Shu tried to remind himself that Alex probably felt like crap and wasn’t purposefully being a pain - probably. After Alex’s third pass through the living room though Shu made him sit on the couch and insisted on putting calamine lotion on Alex’s back where he couldn’t reach. He supposed it was a testament to how uncomfortable Alex really was that it didn’t become an argument.

By the next morning Alex’s spots had turned into angry looking blisters and he got upset every time Shu told him not to scratch. Shu tried to tape oven mitts on Alex’s hands like his mom suggested but Alex was too old to put up with that and nearly decked him in the face. “Alex, don’t hit me,” Shu said sternly. Alex glared but didn’t try it again. 

The fever was worse. The headache was worse. Alex could barely talk because his throat hurt so much. When Shu took a look down Alex’s throat with his phone flashlight he could see how red it was; google said he probably had chicken pox in his throat and that liquid Benadryl could help. He set Alex up on the couch and took a quick trip to the pharmacy, purchasing basically everything he could think of to get Alex to settle down and came home with two bags full of supplies. Alex was napping with the TV on, and Shu didn’t think there was any point in waking the beast before he had to so just sat next to him and let him sleep.

Alex looked particularly young with chicken pox blisters all over his skin and limp, messy hair that was damp from a tenuous fever. Shu sighed fondly as he watched him and thought to himself that this week couldn’t go by fast enough. Eventually Alex woke up, predictably grumpy, and Shu pulled out all the stops. He made vanilla pudding on the stove because that always tasted better than the pre-packaged stuff. He served Alex tea and Gatorade with a curly straw, which Alex called stupid but didn’t remove. He slathered Alex’s entire body with calamine lotion and probably gave him a bit more Benadryl than was strictly the correct dose, but he felt terrible about how miserable Alex seemed. The fever stayed manageable though, so Shu was able to keep him at home at least.

Around dinner time, Shu made Alex soup and served it on the couch. “How’re you holding up, bud?” He asked, sitting next to his miserable, blanket-covered kid.

“This sucks,” Alex croaked. “I hate chicken pox.”

Shu couldn’t help but laugh a little, which earned him a glare from Alex. “I know, it sucks a lot. But this is the worst day, it’ll get better. In the meantime, let’s have some soup.”

“I don’t want soup,” Alex grumped. 

“So what do you want?” Shu asked patiently.

Alex looked away, pulling the blanket closer around himself. “...Ice cream?” He mumbled.

“Alright,” Shu said easily.

Alex looked at him in surprise. “Really?” He asked, his voice rising one tone in excitement, although he was clearly trying not to get his hopes up.

“Sure. Ice cream for dinner it is. You get special treats when you’re sick, you know?” Alex hadn’t known, it seemed. Shu served him a large bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup and Alex ate the whole thing. Then he fell asleep next to Shu as Shu ate the now cold soup, a satisfied, sugary smile on the boy’s face.

[wrightfamily]

i still am not used to being a full time employee. like ive been at my job since october and its great! i genuinely do like my coworkers and im glad i get paid $16/hr and i have an understanding boss. but god im still not used to how little free time i have now and it makes me kind of miserable at least with school u had roughly two full months plus a little bit extra for vacation but with a full time job u have to use up pto

[thee-morrigan]

sincerity is scary

character(s): Holland Townsend, plus a lil Verda at the beginning (technically, Nate's not in this but my god is he living rent-free in Holland's mind) wc/rating: 3.2k / T (swearing) warnings: so many spoilers for Book 3 (all below the cut ofc!) read on ao3 in case anyone’s wondering, Holland still thinks the scariest thing she’s up against is her own stupid heart.

“Come on, Verda, you have to have something for me. I want to do things. I need to do things.”

“You know, some research suggests that feeling the need to be busy all the time is a trauma response,” the pathologist responded mildly, not looking up from the tray of instruments he was busy sterilizing. “That it’s a fear-based compulsion to distract your brain from meaningfully processing traumatic events.”

“You wanna send me those citations, then, and I can distract myself with some light reading?” Holland snapped back, but there was no heat in it.

Verda paused his work then and turned, giving a huff of laughter whose lightness was somewhat diminished by the careful assessment in his eyes as they swept her face. Although they’d started out, as many good friends do, brought together not by fate or fortune but chance proximity, they had quickly discovered bright shared threads of themselves in each other beneath the veneer of professional courtesy and had found themselves fast companions ever since.

He respected her as a colleague, of course; more than he’d expected, if he was honest. She had a stronger background in his line of work than he’d dared to hope in such a small station, which made her a useful colleague to have when he found himself stymied by something. And — perhaps most importantly — she didn’t pester him with questions she didn’t even know were asinine when a case experienced delays. He’d liked Detective Reele more or less, but she’d been marginally tolerable when things didn’t move at the speed she decided appropriate, regardless of whether he could make degraded tissue spontaneously re-materialize when she decided she wanted clearer fingerprints. No, Detective Townsend was a better colleague, that was certain. 

More than just respecting her work, though, he liked Holland in general; she brought a borderline acerbic levity to the station that balanced against Tina’s more exuberant nature and his own tendency to forget to venture upstairs at least once a day. She wasn’t calmer than Tina, exactly — he wasn’t sure calm was a word that had ever been used to describe Holland Townsend. But if Tina was something in the neighborhood of bubbly, all iridescent soap shine and rounded edges, Holland was something sharper, something fizzing, like a live wire.

When he looked at her now, though, he saw less of the bright crackle of energy and more of the kind of nervous energy that led people to market abhorrent devices like fidget spinners. She looked restless. She looked tired.

—

Holland was tired. Goddamn exhausted, actually, if she was honest with herself, which seemed to be almost never these days. She didn’t let herself linger on the way that thought chafed any more than she let herself slow down enough for that bone-deep weariness to press its full weight against her.

It was better to keep moving.

“You know, you’re probably overdue for a vacation,” Verda’s voice, more tinged with concern than it had been a moment ago, cut through her reverie. “I’m pretty sure your promotion to detective didn’t entitle you to less PTO.”

The spark of wry humor in his comment didn’t fully mask the shade of careful observation in his eyes, but…it was an attempt. An easy out for her to muster her usual grinning nonchalance — the irreverent charm Adam had once snarked at her about relying on too heavily.

If it ain’t broke, I guess, she thought, swallowing the urge to sigh as she indeed summoned a half-smile, made herself look her friend in the eye as she tilted her head at him.

“There you go with that concern again, V,” she teased, rising from her perch on the edge of a spare lab bench.

“It’s almost like we’re friends,” he said dryly, although some of the tension in his face eased.

“Which is why I’m gonna let you get back to it and quit bugging you.” Holland moved toward the open lab door and paused, resting one hand against the door jamb as she flashed Verda a more genuine smile. “Thanks, though. For letting me bug you.”

He waved her comment off, though he returned her smile. “Anytime. Besides, I’m hoping things will finally start calming back down with those recent cases sorted. Then we’ll both probably relish any interruptions to the usual humdrum.”

It was all she could do to dredge up a hum of laughter in agreement before stepping back into the corridor, only letting her shoulders slump once she was safely ensconced in her office.

She hadn’t told any of them yet that she was leaving the station. She’d have to soon; she knew that, knew she’d been putting it off far too long already. And, as her mother had pointed out, it wasn’t as if she was never going to be able to see them again. Her friends would still be her friends. They just wouldn’t work together anymore.

Or mostly get to know what she even did for work anymore.

She wasn’t even entirely sure how much she could still keep Tina in the loop, as much as she might wish to. She didn’t have any reason to be particularly suspicious of Agent Pierson, the woman the Agency had sent to spy on Tina from within the station. But as much as she trusted Tina —with her secrets but also to take care of herself— she worried that the balm of having a confidant who was just hers was no longer truly available to her, at least not in the way it had been. Part of that fear, she knew, came from knowing she couldn’t reveal that the so-called new officer was not exactly who she seemed. In all likelihood, the whole arrangement probably really was for Tina’s safety, and probably nothing to worry about, but…Holland still felt like she was lying to her. And not the kind of lying she was comfortable with.

A liar and a coward, she thought as she sat at her desk, chin propped in her hands. She felt that constricting weight begin to settle against her, her skin too tight along her bones, and jerked to her feet again before that melancholia could curl catlike into her lap and trap her there.

She supposed it was useful that everyone had become so inured to her abrupt comings and goings from the station; no one bothered to look up as she walked out into the bright heat of the midday sun, its sticky warmth blanketing her body after a morning spent in the over-conditioned chill of the station’s air.

—

She ended up back in her apartment more out of habit than any real desire to be there. For a while, she found herself drifting, unmoored and aimless, between rooms. She should try to rest, she knew that, knew that if she could sleep she would feel better. 

These days, though, she too often found herself reaching for sleep only to close her fist around endless, empty time. 

She tried to read, to lose herself in another universe for a while, but gave up after she realized that while she’d technically read a whole chapter, she had no idea what had happened in it. 

She thought about playing guitar but figured if she couldn’t focus on reading, she probably wouldn’t fare much better at making anything that sounded like music instead of discordant strumming.

Plus she was already bored of sitting still in the empty quiet of her apartment.

Pushing herself off her window seat, Holland strode to her dresser and tugged out shorts and a sports bra. Experience had taught her long ago that she couldn’t outrun her own brain, but at least she could tire her body enough that she was forced to sleep, at least a little.

—

Because she was already tired, it took longer than usual to find her pace, especially without any music to give her a cadence she could match. In deference to safety, she’d decided against headphones; probably a wise choice   — definitely a wise choice, she reminded herself, hardly a choice at all unless she decided to start actively courting disaster — but one that did nothing to lessen the weight of that heaviness that kept pulling at her, brutal and swift as a rip current. Still, after three miles, she felt some of the tension in her body ebb, some of that near-constant tightness in her chest yielding its grip enough for breathing to come easier, deep and steady draughts of air filling her lungs. 

For a long while, there was only the blessed gentle warmth of summer air, the quiet scraping thump of her sneakers against the sidewalk, and the pleasant ache of her muscles stretching and contracting. Slowly, mile after mile, she felt her body become less foreign, each pounding step bringing it closer to the skin and bones and thudding heart that she recognized as her own. Felt each clenching beat of that too-human muscle in her chest insisting it was where it belonged, safe within its cage of bone and flesh. Felt the reassurance that her heart hadn’t been torn from her chest and left, raw and bleeding, outside her body. 

No matter how it might feel lately. 

A liar and a coward. 

The sharp dig of a knife between her ribs, the claws of that familiar tightness latching into her chest again, and—

Breathe. 

She sucked in air with a sharp gasp, forced her lungs to expand, to draw air in and in and in until she could feel those claws retract.

Until she felt the thought she’d almost had, the one she still hadn’t let herself articulate even within her own mind, retract with them.

Another kind of lie. Another thing she was too much of a coward to confront.

Holland sucked in another breath, letting the sultry weight of that summer air fill her, fill all the cold, empty spaces that lurked within her. Let the warmth of it incinerate the other unarticulated thoughts and shadows of memory before they could turn their baleful, accusatory eyes back toward her. 

Turning her own gaze outward once more, she scanned her surroundings, squinting at a nearby street sign as she passed and trying to decide how much further until she really would need to loop back. Holland’s run had taken her well into the outskirts of town. It wasn’t her preferred route, which snaked through the woods near the Cornerstones and eventually toward the marina, but at least this route hadn’t taken her through Wayhaven proper. Or required her to skirt the station, as her usual path would have. Even if she was leaving — even if no one seemed to really notice or care whether she was, at any given moment, in her office these days — she still didn’t think running directly past the station in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon was necessarily appropriate. 

So Holland found herself instead approaching the winding series of long hills that would eventually lead her toward the hospital. Her knees ached just thinking about those hills. None were particularly steep, but they stretched further than was typically noticeable in a car. On foot, though…no, it was probably past time for her to begin finding her way back home. 

It had been a while since she’d been on a long run. A long while, actually, and she knew her legs would likely ache come morning, even with the shorter maintenance runs she tried to squeeze in whenever she could. Which had been no chance at all these past weeks, between work and what felt like an endless cycle of injury and suffocatingly long recovery. Indeed, she felt the muscles in her thighs protest as she crested one hill before veering right, toward the streets leading back into town. Oh, she would certainly feel the cost of this impromptu long run in the morning.

Although it might be a nice change, she supposed, if her body ached from something other than having the shit kicked out of her by Trappers. Or crumbling buildings. Or winged giants who caused said buildings to end up in pieces on top of her. And those were only some of the most recent aches.

She rolled her shoulders, shaking her arms to diffuse the pressing tension of that memory, her breath a sharp scrape against her throat. 

Fine. She was fine. Despite the strain of these past months, she continued to be perfectly fine. Had gotten through everything that’d been thrown at her. Not entirely smoothly, certainly not effortlessly, but…she had gotten through it. Would continue to do so, perhaps with greater ease than before if her new role indeed provided increased training. She could handle it. She would handle it.

It was the same argument she’d given Nate after the auction, almost two weeks ago now. As to whether she believed it any more now than she had then…another thought she wasn’t ready to have yet. 

I am in love with you, Holland.

Another familiar ache in her chest, one more bruise on her already battered heart. She shut down that train of thought, almost stumbling as she worked to redirect that particular train of thought. To shut out the image that flashed across her mind’s eye, of how Nate’s face had looked in that conversation. The way he’d looked at her, the agony that had streaked across his beautiful face, and how neatly and thoroughly it had eviscerated her. 

That pain. That pain that she had caused.

I don’t know how this is going to work.

She’d had to remind herself how to breathe. Had to remind herself to breathe through the lashing pain of how much she’d hated herself for putting that look on his face. And for knowing that it would likely be far from the last time. 

Because she didn’t know either.

She didn’t know how to avoid it, this hurting him. Didn’t know how to be an easier person to love. 

And as for what she did know, what she’d suspected and quietly fretted over for weeks now…

That hideous weight tugged beneath her ribs and Holland sped up, pushing past the bleating tremor in her thighs, the burning ache in her chest. Pushed that thought out, out, out—

“Fuck!” The word was little more than a hiss as the world tipped and roiled and Holland went flying, elbows skidding and knees barking as she hit the pavement.

Between the subsequent string of violent curses and what remained of her pride, she supposed she was relieved to still be closer to the outskirts than the town center. If running past the station in the middle of a Tuesday was arguably inappropriate, the selection of words that flew out of her mouth as she eased to a seat on the ground was indisputably so. 

She winced as she examined the shredded skin on her forearms, her knees. She hadn’t even fallen well: the most she’d done before splaying gracelessly on the street had been to land more on her arms than her hands. Not her first choice, or at least it shouldn’t have been, but at least she hadn’t broken her wrists. Or anything else, as far as she could tell, looking her latest batch of wounds over as she rose to her feet.

Holland hissed again as she gingerly flexed her left leg, which had borne the brunt of the impact and now sported angry red scrapes along her knee and halfway up her thigh. Just scrapes, but ones that stretched painfully when she bent her leg. 

Swallowing another mouthful of curses, she pulled free the water bottle attached to her running belt, unstoppering it with her teeth before she squeezed a stream of water along first one leg, then the other, and then the smaller scrapes on her arms and elbows. They stung like all hell, but at least they looked slightly better with most of the dirt and grime rinsed away. Naturally, she’d forgotten to bother checking if she’d needed to restock the handful of bandages she usually kept in one of the belt’s pockets; naturally, she only unearthed one after fumbling through every goddamned pocket, the lone bandage too small to be of much use unless she fancied ripping adhesive off part of an open wound later.

She exhaled, sharp and impatient, and raked a hand over the sweat-dampened strands of hair that had broken free of her stubby ponytail and now lay plastered to her forehead. 

No new scars indeed. She snorted as she recalled Nate’s words in that forest clearing, back before they’d even known what manner of myth hunted her. She doubted it had occurred to him that she’d likely continue to rack up scars earned through her own sheer stupidity. God, but that felt like a lifetime ago.

She drained the remains of her water bottle before slotting it back in its elastic holster at her hip. She toed the ground, wincing at her protesting kneecap, and considered. Depending on the route she took, she wasn’t that far from her apartment. The circuitous route she’d intended to follow was obviously out, but she could take a more direct one and be back relatively quickly. Walking, it would take…she did the math, frowning. Walking back, assuming she kept her regular pace, would likely take her the better part of two hours. She stretched her legs again, shifting experimentally from one foot to the other. She was hurt, yes, but it was definitely only superficial, and not so bad she couldn’t probably run home as well as she could walk. Running would be faster, even with what would certainly be a much slower pace. Would likely cut the return time in half, actually, though she knew it would hurt. Of course, it would hurt to walk home, too. 

Holland’s shoulders sagged. Since she’d stopped moving, her body had started to register physical exhaustion, had begun to grow heavy with it, and she wanted to be home. Wanted a shower and her bed and a different kind of silence than the kind that felt like a scream.

She did have another option, some small part of her mind pointed out before she shut that thought out, too. Technically, the warehouse, where she had a bed and a shower and certainly less silence, was a bit closer to her current location than her own apartment. However begrudgingly, Holland had to admit the thought tempted her. Tempted her more when she thought of the magic-imbued salve, leftover from what had been her most recent batch of injuries, stashed in a bathroom cabinet. To say nothing of the vampire whose mere presence soothed her more than any medicine.

Her frown deepened. She was tired of showing up at the warehouse battered and bloody. Really goddamned tired of it. 

She straightened, rolling her shoulders and breathing deep. Her apartment wasn’t that far, and it was only a skinned knee. Well, two skinned knees, actually, and her elbows, but…

Holland released that deep breath and set off,  a tentative jog while she found her new pace, toward the town center and her apartment beyond.

She didn’t much feel like reminding anyone how easily she broke apart.

[scary-monsters]

I genuinely don't know how much longer I can do this

I try to keep mental health shit off this blog as much as possible bc that's not what it's for, it's supposed to be a place to share the things I make and to support others that love the same characters as I do. But also I need to be human sometimes

I haven't been getting enough sleep, my body won't let me rest more than 6 hours a night because I'm constantly riddled with anxiety and the pressure to work work work, be productive, do things or else you're useless.

I don't eat nearly enough because I can't afford to buy groceries most weeks and rarely have time to cook on the days I work. Most of the time I eat one meal a day and that's only on my 30min break at work. My body doesn't even like to take anything more than that.

I haven't bought new clothes in at least 2 years, because I can't afford to and why would I when I never go anywhere except work? If I have a day off I don't have the energy to try and look nice, I throw on old jeans and a t-shirt. And it sucks because clothing has always been a passion of mine and I used to take so much pride in the way I present myself. I miss that part of me.

I'm miserable all the time, if I'm at work I'm only thinking about suicide. I cry all the time. Yes I go to therapy, yes I have a psychiatrist, yes I take medication for my disorder. But it feels like nothing helps anymore.

My therapist asked me two days ago what the barriers to my goals and happiness are and I didn't even hesitate when I answered "work". My job is draining me to a point that is scary for me, I feel trapped in it because no matter how many applications I do, I always get 'no's. The jobs I do have a good shot at pay significantly less than what I currently make, so I can't risk losing that pay. I live by myself, I pay for everything by myself. I don't have anyone else to lean on.

We recently had a loss in the family, and while I handled it pretty well it also brought up all the other loss I've experienced in my life, and there's been a lot. To a point where if my mom calls and says "I need to talk to you", I immediately assume someone else has passed. So all I can think about lately is all those people and all the missed opportunities I had with them.

I'm tired and I don't know what to do, I feel lost and I can't help looking at suicide as my only option to get out of how shitty everything feels all the time. I'm only happy when I'm making art or writing or talking to friends, but when I don't have the energy to do those things?? What then? I sit here and stare at a screen and cry and wish I could be anyone other than myself. I can't measure up, and I'm kinda tired of trying.

I had to call in today because I can't do it, I feel myself falling apart at the seams, I've been snapping at coworkers and having attitude with customers, that's not me, but I feel like I'm losing myself. But because I called in I've now lost a quarter of my paycheck for this week. Every single day I have to pick whether I'd prefer experiencing suicidal ideation for 10.5 hours at work or sitting at home and feeling lost/lonely and crying instead.

I've been pretty good at hiding it and masking this year but idk, I don't have the energy to do it anymore. I'm lost, y'all, I have no direction and I don't know when/if things are gonna get better for me

(also I don't need anyone telling me that I could use vacation money to fix some of these issues; vacations are how I escape, and I need to do that. Plus I always save up PTO/money specifically for them.)

[birdyla]

Vent post

I’m sick as a dog, right? Like— cough, chills, sore throat, achey— the whole kit and kaboodle with the exception of a fever. I offered to my boss that I would work a half day and go home after lunch so I could recover before it got any worse.

Backstory: I told these people when they hired me that my health wasn’t great. I need to have my tonsils removed and the chronic tonsillitis is causing my immune system to work like a dodge neon (not well at all.) I had been scheduled to get them removed in late February so that I could amend the issue in which I keep calling out because I got sick. They made me postpone it to mid April because one of one of my managers going on vacation.

On that note, I’m never more than 1 minute late to my shifts. This, to me, is damn impressive when you consider that the ADHD time blindness is REAL and difficult to take care of— especially when I was diagnosed late. They are about to write me up because I showed up “one minute late” more than 3 times in the past 6 months. Then the threatened to write me up for having to go home sick more than 6 times in the past six months.

The kicker? I work for a fucking hospital. The sort of place you’d expect would understand that health needs are a real thing. Besides that I hate coming in when I’m sick not because I can’t work while ill (I can, I just tend to make mistakes.) it’s because I know I’m still contagious and our patients (ages 60+) are immunocompromised. A cold for me could be deadly for them.

Plus I’m going to school full time on top of working full time too.

So what I mean to say is: make it make sense. You’re mad that we call in but we call in because we get sick and we all get sick because we still come to work when we are not feeling well because you don’t let us call in. If you don’t want me to take time off why give me PTO? I can’t h e l p if I get sick more than 6 times in 6 months. PLUS this issue would be under control if you guys would have let me get the tonsillectomy when I had originally scheduled it and decided to prioritize the needs of the clinic over my own personal health.

So anyway

I’m sick as all get out the rotting at this damn place that I hate because if I take care of myself I’ll get written up. It’s very cute. 🙄

[rahleeyah]

We have a new PTO policy at work the result of which is that I have to actually take vacation time so as not to lose it so I'm taking today off. I got to sleep in and write for two hours and play Sims. In a little bit I am gonna go into the office but only bc I want to take Mo to visit the girls; they've been begging to meet him and it wasn't working out logistically but since I'm not doing anything else today it's perfect. Plus there's going to be cake. I did do approximately ten minutes of work this morning and if Mo behaves himself I'm gonna do one task at the office but that's like. Nothing. This is the life, just writing and playing with the animals and not worrying about anything 😭

[robinruns]

It's hell getting old. I had heard a few years back that when you hit age 34, you start falling apart physically. I managed to hold it together until now. Granted I've had a few aches and pains along the way, but that expected as an athlete. Hell, I thought that my neck pain was due to stress it took until I was in so much pain in my jaw I was struggling to eat and I finally went to the chiropractor last year.

But now I've got my knee feeling like its being stabbed when I so much as move my foot wrong(?!) and my neck/shoulder is once again throwing a fucking fit and my shoulder is just aching. I only have one heat pad! I can only do so much at once! Plus I'm supposed to run a 10k in like a month! Granted, I have run a half marathon like two and a half weeks ago, so it shouldn't be an issue, but I'd like to keep up some sort of physical activity between now and then.

Then at work we found out yesterday that the lady who retired in May due to her terminal cancer diagnosis passed away. Today we got an email letting us know that the vacation donation pool is now open again for another coworker who has cancer and has exhausted her PTO already.

And I know that I should be doing everything in my power to try to keep myself healthy, like exercising regularly and eating healthy, and getting my weight down, but then I wonder should I be looking at what products I use? Should I be doing this differently? What about that? It's exhausting. Life is exhausting.

I try to get myself on the right track with regard to like cleaning up, and meal planning and prepping so none of it gets too out of hand, but I'm worn out and don't wanna do any of it.

I feel like I complain about this stuff over and over and over, but I just don't know how to get a handle on it.

Anyway, my laptop is restarting and it's taking forever and I just wanna go to bed. Yes I only get a few hours of free time per week, yes I wanna waste it sleeping.

[canichangemyblogname]

No, for real. What is your rent, then? I'm down here making just under that, and my rent is $1500/month alone. I have $100k in student loans from Champaign-Urbana, which is two hours north of me. Plus, with car payments, all the utilities, phone, and internet, I don't get me started on groceries and gas. I work a second job and skate barely over the finish line every month just to do it all over again. The articles saying Millennials are living without a safety net and having no savings because they're going on vacations make me scream. What vacation? Do you mean the week I stay home every year because I use or lose my PTO and binge-watch something because I paid for a month of Netflix? I don't think that's what they're talking about. I know people my age who have money, but that's because their parents paid for college or their house or SOMETHING mine could have never afforded.

When I lived in a two bedroom with 4 other adults in Waukegan, each of our rent was about $325 because we split it between all 4 of us. Average rent for a 2 bdrm there is about $1500+, which I *cannot* afford alone. We lived in a “not so nice” area (it was fine; this really means parking was a bitch), so rent was cheaper.

When my sister lived in Urbana-Champaign, her rent for what was essentially a studio was about $900/ mo in a nice place in a nice part of town. It was actually a crazy good deal, and we think the landlord marked it down to attract students, but because she still had so many vacancies and the semester had already started. There was nothing “wrong” with the apartment, either. (It was also probably because it was a 4 bedroom and she couldn’t rent it out as a full 4 bedroom, so she rented out each bedroom at $900/ea instead of a full 4 bdrm for $3600, which is on the expensive side in Champaign.)

Currently looking into moving, and most studios within Cook County cost around $1,200/ mo. (I saw one listed for $1800 in the SUBURBS a while back and thought: “Nah, you’re off your rocker. For a studio?”) I actually need to be closer to work, and I do not mind having very little space as I don’t have a lot of stuff and it’d be just me. $1,200 is stretching it for me, but the one time I found a place for $1,000, it had roaches and a mold problem, so… sometimes the little extra is worth it. There’s actually a place near-er my work that I put myself on a waitlist for where a 1 bdrm is $1,250 (and it doesn’t have a roach problem).

A lack of adequate housing stock is a national issue, and, as in every county, Cook County does struggle in this regard, don’t get me wrong. But you go just west to the Collar Counties, and some of those towns in there have next to no vacancy. Most of the available housing stock out there is also reserved for people 65+. So, there’s certainly something to be said about the benefits of recognizing a need for “young professional” housing, often 1 bdrm or studios within a simple commute to major business corridors or districts. The thing about Cook? They tax you up the ass, and the taxes aren’t progressive, so they’re taxing you obscenely on things like food and gasoline, which disproportionately hurts us.

[definite-human]

Hey, fellow USAmericans (and potentially others, but idk if this applies broadly), if you're suffering from burnout working for overbearing corporate overlords, might I recommend: seeking employment with an unobjectionable government agency?

I just started working for my county's archival department last year and... y'all. I mean, the pay is middling, but the benefits?? I just did the math, and between sick leave, vacation, and federal holidays I get 8 weeks of PTO a year. As an entry level employee. Also, free dental insurance and incredibly good health insurance.

Plus, because it's a government agency and not a private company, the managers really only care about maintaining a steady, sustainable pace. Genuinely, all I have to do is show up on time put in a solid 60-75% effort each day and nobody bothers me.

Now I can't promise that's the case everywhere, but a friend just started working for the state government and was marveling at the similar low-pressure environment he found there.

So, go hunt down some government job listings! They are often scattered across various outdated agency websites and can be inconvenient to fill out (few if any auto-filling forms to say the least) but honestly, that just means you're not competing with the 5000+ other people who clicked a couple buttons on indeed.com, y'know?

Seriously, I applied to...something like six hundred? jobs on indeed and got 3 job offers. I applied to 3 government jobs and 1 job offer. It's worth a shot.

[honestmouse20]

Guess who's booking their first Real vacation today!

I'm seeing Fob at the end of march in Nashville. And we decided to swing through on the way home and go to Dollywood. Which I havn't been since 2013 lol in 8th grade. I'm so excited bc I've been saving pto and money for this for almost a year lol

Plus that'll Still leave me with 2 to 3 days (depending on travel times) to relax before i gotta go back to work :)

[unexpectedyarns]

My ex husband works for Home Depot. He works full time. In 2003 he made $14 an hour plus benefits. In today’s money, that’s $27.74.

My son hired on for Home Depot a month ago. His shift includes a “night shift premium” of $2 an hour, bringing the hourly pay to $18.00. The position is 40 hours, but is classified as part-time, so the company offers no benefits, no PTO, no sick or vacation time. Equivalently he makes only 2/3 what his dad made 20 years ago.

He recently got an “Award Badge” (cloth patch to put on his apron. The reason for the award was stated as “Buliding Share Holder Value.”

What is the incentive for the American worker to make less-than-living wages, but to work hard to build “Shareholder Value,” putting more money into the pockets of the rich?

Corporations should be ashamed, but they’re not

This is proof that capitalism is not about freedom. Not even close.

In a system that values freedom, it would be expected that people would value living over working.

This is the same mentality as those who claimed to value freedom but owned slaves. They want freedom for themselves while everyone else serves them. They still haven't grown out of that.