#i can't fucking do anything because I'm so goddamn stressed

[akirakirxaa-ooc]

I am so exhausted and sometimes I wish I could just have good things happen without fucking bad things happening right on its heels or even at the same time, like I have to trade something of equal value to get some good shit in my life. Like I move in a fucking week and my husband and I have had to take like six heavy fucking phone calls today and I'm just so fucking exhausted but I can't go to sleep because I'm all stressed out over this. And somewhere in all of this I have to pack to move states in eight days. Seven really since today's pretty much done.

[dredshirtroberts]

it is not slacking off to write or create it is not slacking off to do things that are fun i am not slacking off or procrastinating right now i'm allowed to do things i enjoy doing for fun including playing games and writing and such

[regular-lord-reckoner]

well, after a lot of crying and procrastinating and getting my anxiety ramped all the way up i finally emailed a potential therapist so that’s at least one thing i can check off my list :’)

[faillen]

.

[renthony]

Our home is literally falling apart around us.

Another piece of our furniture collapsed today (this time it was the TV stand, last time it was the legs on the couch), and I'm just glad it wasn't our bed frame. Because that's held together with zip ties and wishes. Also our microwave is broken and keeps trying to catch fire. And most of our plates got dropped on the floor and broken. My kingdom for household goods that last longer than ten minutes. Fucking goddamn hell.

I hate to post yet another begging post, but at this point our furniture is a safety hazard, and I'm stressed about my disabled body potentially being forced back into a mattress on the floor. I can't sleep like that without it causing severe pain problems.😬

We have replacement furniture on our household wishlist, if anyone's feeling generous. We've been doing our damnedest to keep our heads above water, but replacement furniture just hasn't been in the budget.

If you can't get anything from the wishlist but still want to help out, here are my pay links as well:

Ko-Fi

PayPal: renniequeer@gmail.com

Venmo: @ renniequeer

CashApp: $renniequeer

Thank you in advance, even if all you do is boost the signal. We have been genuinely blessed to have so many people online help us out before, and I hope y'all'll forgive me for having to do it so damn often. I appreciate you immensely. <3

[realisticfanfictions]

Being Sanji's Girlfriend & Baratie's Head Waitress.

Sanji x Waitress!Reader

Working at Baratie wasn't without its challenges, and the fights that sprung up because of them weren't rare either. You and your boyfriend never sweated the small stuff, after all working in a high stress environment made you, well, stressed. But maybe some things can't be resolved that easily.

Tags: Sanji x Reader, Waitress!Reader, constant bickering, mostly fluff with some angst, (heavy) swearing.

A/N: I love the Waitress!Reader so much for OPLA, so I've decided to do another one! I had to split this up into multiple parts, cause this ended up being a bit long. (Link to part two.)

Word Count is 4,829. Hope you enjoy!

"Where the fuck are my entrees?!" Your voice echoed in the enclosed space, cutting through the melodic and rhythmic sounds of frying, chopping and other things that went on in a kitchen. You brushed past another waitress who wisely got out of your way, your heels clicking against the tiles as you marched up to the pass and slammed your copy of the meal ticket down. "Chef!" You called out, pushing back a strand of your hair as you scanned the chefs who were cooking at a ferocious pace. You locked eyes with an unfortunate new chef, but despite him immediately looking at his feet and trying to walk by, you reached through the window and pulled him by the collar. "Who the hell is on entrees?" He stumbled over his words and you groaned in frustration at his pathetic attempt at the English language.

"That's me." You pushed him back and looked past the cowering chef at the man who had just spoken up, your boyfriend and the love of your life, Sanji. His normally pressed and tidy chef attire was in disarray with his shirt untucked and his sleeves stained with various sauces. He sounded hoarse and was covered in a thin layer of sweat as he cooked some type of meat, flipping it over in the pan to cook it evenly. Intense concentration was etched into his face and the way he scrunched his nose was adorable, but right now you couldn't think of anything else but punching it.

You opened your mouth to speak, but a nearby busboy ran in front of you and you snarled at him. "Watch it, asshole!" You refocused your attention back on the blonde in front of you. "I have thirty-eight tables out there with at least four head a table, and only two waitresses working the floor-!"

He shook his head and his pan aggressively hit the stove top each time he moved it. "You know, it sounds so hard to look pretty and run around in heels all night, but I actually have a real job-"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really. And I'd appreciate it if I didn't have you bitching in my ear all night!" He threw some butter in the pan and began to bast the meat.

"Then maybe, if you were actually good at your 'real job'," You said with quotation marks. "Then you'd tell me why the shit it takes thirty-five goddamn minutes for a premade french onion soup!"

He whipped around with a laddle in his hand and he marched over to the pass. You both bent down to see each other through the window. "Hey, if I had any fucking help around here I would have gotten that to you twenty minutes ago, but I'm stuck here-"

"And here we go!" You exclaimed as you threw up your hands dramatically and walked through the swinging doors. You avoided Pattie walking out with a tray of fresh bread and popped on an apron attached to a nearby hook.

"-with my thumb up my arse because apparently no one knows how to plate a damn steak in this kitchen!" He moved around you as you took his place, grabbing the offending meat and placing it atop of the mashed potatoes.

Annoyed, you grabbed the garnish. "Well, where the hell's the plating station?"

Sanji came back and unceremoniously dropped a large stock pot next to you. He bent down to look you in the eye and threw his hands up in the air. "He quit."

Your eyes widened and followed him as he walked to the other side of you and started plating beside you. "He what?"

"He fucking quit! Just like every other bitch who couldn't handle Tuesdays at the Baratie." His brows furrowed and he let out a small shout of frustration. "Whoever the fuck did the halibut, refry it!" He yelled as he set it off to the side. "Just 'cause we're busy doesn't mean you can push out a shit and pass it off as fine dining!"

You plated another order and put it under the heat lamp at the pass, then rang the bell, but no one came. "And we're short-staffed on waitresses too!" You exclaimed and spotted the busboy from before, "Oi! You! Get off your ass and start serving!" You threw your ticket-book and pen at him, which he barely caught from where he was sitting.

"B-But I'm washing dishes-!"

You dramatically gestured around. "We aren't even sending anything out, so unless you've been storing them up your rectum, what fucking dishes are you washing?!" You grabbed the french onion soup in the stock pot that Sanji had given you and quickly poured it into three bowls laced with garnish on top. "Take these to 12, and the steak to 24. Tell 12 that they'll get a free dessert in about twenty minutes. Well? Get a move on! You aren't getting paid to sit there and look pretty, 'cause you sure as hell ain't fucking pretty!" He scrambled to pick them up and he quickly ran out of the kitchen.

"That turned me on more than I'd like to admit." Sanji appeared beside you with another plate and rang the service bell. "If we weren't busy I'd kiss you, darling." He exclaimed as he grabbed a handful of garnish and placed it atop of the plate.

"Oi, fuckface." When he looked over, you quickly pressed a kiss to his lips and grabbed the metal tray of halibut. "Now, let's get these pretentious pricks fed!"

You both worked side by side, barking orders at each other and bickering over every little thing you could - even Zeff yelled at you both to shut up. But it worked. Within minutes, you both had worked through the back orders and finally got to a point where you weren't struggling to complete orders from guests who'd been waiting for hours. When the last table left, you and Sanji just about collapsed. Leaning against the cool wall tile with you by his side, he sighed. "That was definitely one of our busiest days," He said with pure relief that it was finally over.

You couldn't remain standing and slid down the wall, your high heels clicking as you sat down. "Yeah, who knew so many people would wanna celebrate Father's Day?" You replied sarcastically, but a playful smile told your boyfriend that you weren't being mean. He softly chuckled and followed suit, sliding down the wall until he reached the floor with a groan.

He pulled out his cigarettes. "I've earned one of these." He says as he puts it between his lips and waits for you to light it. You roll your eyes and oblige, taking out your lighter and lighting the end of it for him. He took a slow drag, closed his eyes, savoured it, and then exhaled out the smoke.

"You almost make lung cancer look sexy." You remarked with a grin, and he returned it with his own charming, beautiful smile.

His eyes slowly flicked up and down. "And you always make yelling and shouting look so sexy." He licked his lips and leaned in, giving you a kiss that lingered. Your eyes fluttered shut and you enjoyed the small respite from the craziness you had both just experienced. Even when the kiss eventually ended, neither one of you moved away. "Are you working tonight?" He asked under his breath.

You sighed and pecked his lips. "In two hours."

"Till?"

"Four."

"Shit."

"I know." You pressed your lips against his once more and moved some hair out of his face. "But, I'm not working tomorrow so we can sleep in."

He sighed. "I start at nine tomorrow."

"Till?"

"Six."

"Shit."

"I know." You both quietly laughed and pressed your noses together, then rubbed them together while stealing kisses and giggling like you used to when you were kids.

You'd been at the Baratie ever since you were fifteen, and you'd been dating Sanji since you were sixteen. It wasn't really something you both had officially decided on, nor did either one of you do this big, elaborate confession that made both of you ugly-cry. It happened slowly over time. Many customers and fellow staff would constantly tease you both with things like, "Where's your girlfriend, Sanji?" and, "Aw! You both are so cute together!" At first you both denied it, but eventually you just... stopped correcting people. You were each other's first kiss, first love... first love, and despite how it looks from the outside, you couldn't be happier.

"Oi, Sanji." You called out as you leaned closer to the mirror to focus on your eyeshadow. "Be careful, there's been a lot of pirate activity lately. They might stop by, so Zeff has officially-unofficially instated a no-tolerance policy for- Sanji!" You laughed when your boyfriend wrapped his arms around you and you struggled to do your makeup while Sanji hung off of you and pressed kisses along your cheek. "You toad! You're going to ruin my smokey eye."

He playfully moaned. "But you're so sexy," He whined and pulled back enough to give you puppy eyes. "And you shouldn't work tonight if there's pirates anyway."

"I still have to work." You replied, giving up on doing your makeup and stealing a quick kiss from him. "I'm the head of front-of-house, I can't just ring up Zeff and say, 'hey, your son wants to sleep with me so I can't come in today!'"

"No, you can't." At the sound of his voice, you looked up to see that your boss had entered you and Sanji's shared room. He would have seen the neatly pressed and ironed button-downs wrapped around hangers, and two mismatching pairs of high heels strewn about the floor. His eyes met yours. "We have a full house of rich, but important pricks tonight, and I need all hands on deck. If someone calls in sick, drag them out of bed if you have to."

Your boyfriend pouted playfully. "But she never gets any time off, can't we just-"

"(Y/N) is our head of house, she's too important to lose tonight." Zeff straightened up and crossed his arms over. "Little Eggplant, you can't distract (Y/N) from doing her job. Unlike you, she has to work to stay here." The old man looked over at you and you nodded, you knew that you were a staff member first and foremost - being the girlfriend of his adopted son was second to that.

Sanji's smile tightened, and he stood up. "I know." His blue eyes flashed with something that you meant he wanted to say something but didn't. His smile returned when he looked at you. "I'll see you in the morning."

As he brushed past Zeff and walked out of the room, you furrowed your eyebrows at your boss and father figure. "Now that's one way to get him pissed off at you." The words came out a little more aggressive than you meant to, but you didn't bother correcting yourself.

He sighed and turned to leave. "Leave it alone, (Y/N)."

"And one way to get me pissed off at you too." You dropped your eyeshadow onto the table and followed after him. His wide frame took up quite a bit of space in the hallway, but you squeezed past him to block his path.

Zeff groaned when he saw you and squeezed the bridge of his nose, then released it to gesture while he spoke. "(Y/N), I apologise if you felt offended. You're a part of our family, and--"

"I don't care about that." You scoffed in disbelief and gawked at his lack of social awareness. "You must be really thick in the skull if you think I'm upset about that."

His face scrunched up. "Then what are you upset about? Hm? What are you upset about now?" He gestured behind you. "I have dinner service to prep for," He started to list off on his fingers. "I have a team of flaky waitresses-your team of flaky waitresses to deal with, and I need to make sure that we have enough lamb being delivered for our special tonight. So what could it possibly be that is so important you're holding me up for?"

You counted to five in your head before opening your mouth to speak. "I love him. And I don't give a rat's ass that you sign my paycheck, or give me a roof over my head. You don't make Sanji, my boyfriend and your son, feel shitty just because you think it'll toughen him up. And you certainly don't use me to do that." You keep your gaze locked onto his. "You ever do that again? I walk." You stepped backward and straightened up. "I'll get the team ready for service."

You never regretted what you said. Was your tone harsher than it should've been? Yes, but you needed to get your point across to him. There wasn't any time to think about it though, because it was Friday night and thirty minutes before opening - you didn't have the time to regret what you said.

"Ladies!" You called out, then smiled. "And Sapi." Said fishman smiled at your acknowledgement as your team of staff gathered around to form a semi-circle in front of you. You held up your checklist. "We have fifteen V.I.P tables tonight. I expect everyone to be on their best behaviour. That means no frowning, no blowing your nose on the customer's napkins, and no- oh my God, Macy. If you don't shut the fuck up." The red-lipped, pigtail-wearing waitress jolted back from where she was gossiping with another waitress. You raise your brows at her as if to ask if she was done and rolled your eyes. "And no unprofessionalism." You finished with a glare.

Spai cleared his throat. "How many free tables do we have tonight?"

You looked back at the clipboard and flipped over the page, counting quietly to yourself. "There's two at seven and one at eight. The two at seven are one and eight, and the one at eight is seven. One can be for eight, but don't offer seven to under six because seven and six are over eight. Got it?"

The room was quiet for a moment, and Sapi slowly blinked. "May I have a copy of that, please?"

"I'll bring one to your station," You looked around. "Any questions?" Silence. "Good. Now, put on your fakest smile and happy ga-ga voice - we've got a line of ships waiting to be fed!"

"Let's do this, team!" Macy's voice screeched out and she was met with silence.

You exhaled gruffly and squeezed the bridge of your nose. "Macy, I swear to- let's do this, team!" This time, it was met with a round of cheer as they dispersed to familiarise themselves with their tables for the night.

A pleased sigh escaped you, content with your small but mighty team that you had managed to drag out of bed to work the floor. A glance to the suspiciously blank specials menu made you curse under your breath. You were going to have to talk to Zeff to get tonight's specials. With a defeated sigh, you clipped your pen to your shirt and sucked in a deep breath, before making your way to the kitchen where it sounded like food preparations were already underway.

"...and get those lamb in the cold room!" Zeff's voice was apparent the second you walked through those doors. The kitchen was a mess of people marching backwards and forwards like ants while Zeff, their queen, barked orders as they passed by. You thought about just turning around and pretending that the fight had never happened in the first place, but the old man spotted you and waved you over with a finger. "What can I get you, Sprout?" You breathed out a sigh of relief, hearing his nickname for you was like a wave of fresh air.

You straightened up and grabbed your pen. "Hey geezer, what's the specials tonight?"

He waited for you to finish writing "Specials" across the top of your sheet of paper. "We have Lobster Thermidor paired with the 1500s Chardonnay, or a White Burgundy if they snub the Chardonnay. Then we have classic Red-Wine Braised Lamb Shanks that you can pair with any Grenache you find." He slid a piece of paper to you. "These are the prices. I only want you handling checks tonight."

Out of sheer habit, you slipped the piece of paper into your bra. "Why's that?"

"Because someone messed up the till last night, and I want someone I can trust running it."

That made your heart clench. You sighed. "Look, Zeff," You started and lowered your clipboard. "I'm sorry for stepping out of line earlier. I was angry. Sanji was trying to get some 'us' time because we haven't even been awake at the same time for the last couple months. And when we have it's been with me running the floor and him- you know what I mean. Look, I'd never walk out on you, Zeff."

His face, as always, was blank, but you can tell he was processing what you had just said. He was quiet, but then he nodded. "Get those specials on the board. We open in ten." You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded, then turned around. "Don't fuss, little brussel sprout."

A smile wormed its way onto your face and you looked over your shoulder at him. "Fussin' ain't worth fussing over. Isn't that what you say?" You barely dodged an incoming head of lettuce.

"Good evening, welcome to the Baratie. My name is (Y/N), can I get you started with some drinks tonight?" You were a natural at this. It didn't matter if you were having an "anti-person day", as Sanji called it, there was no denying that you had talent.

The man with soft, pink hair hummed and looked over the menu. His brass knuckles glistening under the dim lighting of the restaurant. "What are your specials for the night?"

A polite smile went a long way. "The chef has prepared for you a selection of the most wonderful meals made only from the finest and freshest ingredients in the Ease Blue. We have Lobster Thermidor paired with a Chardonnay that I find adds a bit of a fruity, uplifting compliment to the meal. And we have our high-in-demand Lamb Shanks braised in a nice red wine, and paired with only the best Grenache you can find for miles." You didn't bother telling him that it was the same Grenache you had found in the back of the freezer from four months ago.

"That sounds lovely, and what is the cost?"

You quietly hissed and looked over at the beautiful blonde who was sitting across from him, then leaned in to whisper. "I find it's best not to discuss such things on a date. You wouldn't want her to think she isn't worth it, right?"

Well, that certainly worked. He slowly looked between you and his date, who smiled sweetly and encircled the rim of her glass with her perfectly manicured french tips. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. "You're right. We'll take one of each, and I'll have to rely on you for what pairs best."

You took the menu he offered with a smile and a nod. "Very well sir, I hope you two enjoy yourselves. Our bar is open all night." And with a wink, you danced away to the kitchen to place 'his' order. It was easy with men like that. All you had to do was dangle their woman's respect in front of them and they'd eat shit just to keep her smiling. But despite the monotony of it at times, you met a lot of interesting people from different backgrounds. You gave a small wave at the man at table two, a regular who had just come back from his royal ballet tour appearance and was with his rich, aristocrat girlfriend, who he said wasn't feeling well.

An set of voices, loud and uncouth, came from above and you stopped to cast a glance upwards. They were... pirates? Well, Zeff did say that they'd been more active around this area as of late, so it wasn't that much of a surprise - especially since there was already a couple tables of them. Sapi looked a little overwhelmed, so you sighed and grabbed a nearby waitress. "Could you take an order to the kitchen for me? It's table three with the two specials, two too. The man at two in the tutu wants it blue, but not at two with Ms. Sue in the red shoes. She has a touch of the flu, so any red meat or roux will make her spew. Got it?"

She blinked. "I think so?"

You patted her on the shoulder and briskly floated up the stairs with as much grace as a head waitress could muster. Their conversation slowly grew louder and you were able to hear some of their conversation. "My apologies, but I don't accept money for-"

"Is there something I can help you with?" At your words, the group looked over and Sapi, who had been trying to refuse some berri the orange-haired woman was offering him, visibly relaxed.

"Nothing is the matter, this group was just leaving." He answered and looked at them to see if they got the hint. The woman sighed in defeat and pocketed her cash. You looked over at the two young men leant against the railing staring into the restaurant below, they were very excited and looked as if they hadn't eaten a proper meal for a few days.

With your mind set, you glanced over at the time, then straightened up and smiled. "You know what? It's seven, so I believe we might have a booth available if that's suitable for your needs?"

She smiled and breathed out a small sigh of relief. "Thank you, here-"

You held up a hand before she could reach into her pocket. "Save that for your meal." With a quick nod to Sapi, you stepped aside and gestured toward the staircase. "Follow me." The man with green hair and three swords rubbed you the wrong way almost the second you laid eyes on him, and you could tell he felt the same way. It was almost a sense of mutual familiarity. But you broke off eye contact to lead the rest of this strange, rambunctious crew further into the Baratie. "The Baratie was established by our current owner Zeff, and we recently celebrated our tenth anniversary."

The boy in the straw hat gawked at everything he saw and heard you say, and smiled brightly. "This place looks like it serves good food!"

That brought a smile to your face. "It does," You said as you guided them to their booth amidst other pirates and similar rough-looking guests. "And I don't just say that because my boyfriend's the sous chef."

"Are you sure about that?" The guy in a pirate costume asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief and laughing along with his young friend.

You smiled along and shook your head. "I'll let you guys get settled in and will return in about five minutes with a menu. Please enjoy the music." With a few friendly waves and a "see you in a bit!" from the straw hat boy, you turned and walked toward the back of the room to collect a few menus.

Suddenly, the door slammed open and your boyfriend appeared looking more than a bit annoyed. You didn't even think he was on the line tonight, but your attention was drawn to two men who had began to cause a bit of a ruckus. You weren't close enough to hear what was being said, but you tucked the menus under your armpit and darted toward the pair that were now being consoled by Sanji. "...we don't waste food, and there's no fighting at the Baratie." You slowed your walk toward them and continued at a crawl. The man you had served not that long ago was dealing with a rowdy pirate. You heard something that sounded like a threat and Sanji spoke up again, his voice cutting through the argument before it had the chance to escalate. "And I'd like to pour you each a glass of Ithürzburger Stein. On the house."

The pirate nodded. "Okay, I'll have that drink." His brows furrowed and his voice grew irrate. "After he apologies for his bad manners!"

"Over my dead body." That was certainly the wrong answer. With a growl, they both lunged for each other and you sped toward them, watching as Sanji, in a blur, flipped over the table and kicked each of them.

The pink haired man grunted and got back up on his feet, drawing his gun but then froze when he felt something cold dig into his back. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." You warned, shoving your own gun into his back and whispered in his ear. "Drop it." Like the coward he was, he did and you effortlessly slammed the butt of your weapon into his temple - knocking him out cold.

You motioned for a nearby waitress to deal with the unconscious men, then snapped your attention to Sanji who picked up his plate of scones and continued his walk. "No cause for alarm, folks. Please, enjoy your meals." He called out and you quickly pocketed your gun back into your thigh-holster, smoothing out your dress and turning to the waitress who had arrived at your side.

After gesturing for her to take them out the back door, you readjusted yourself and quickly walked up to Sanji's side who's forced smile made you tilt your head in confusion. He shook his head, he didn't want to talk about it just yet. You both made the few steps over to the table you had just seated and, despite his mood, he set down the plate with his usual grace. "Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?" While he spoke, you placed down some menus and tried to ignore the straw hat boy who was currently stuffing his face full of our complimentary scones.

The woman grabbed a menu from you with a smile, but the others had their eyes locked onto Sanji. "One of everything, please!" The straw hat boy called out without taking a look at the menu you had walked twenty feet in high heels to collect.

"Any drinks?" Your boyfriend offered as he shoved his hands into his pocket, unconsciously looking for his packet of smokes that you knew he couldn't light. You briefly wondered if you should offer him a smoke break to calm him down. "One of our signature cocktails to help you choke down your meal?"

"Giving us the hard sell, huh?" She asked as she slowly lowered her menu and you found it increasingly harder not to smack the blond.

And, as usual, his entire demeanour changed. "Apologies, madam. I didn't see you there. Would you care for an aperitif to start? We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock. Or perhaps you'd like a glass of Umeshu? You know, something sweet-" He winked. "-for someone sweet."

"Something wrong with your eye?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

You cleared your throat. "No, but there is something wrong with his head if he thinks he can flirt with another girl in front of his girlfriend."

That garnered a few giggles, snickers and mock gasps from the table. Sanji chuckled and turned to you. "I hope I'm not in the doghouse tonight?" He pulled you in and gave you a quick kiss on your cheek, but you waved him off.

"We'll see." You shot him a not-so-serious warning look and focused back on the table. "Sorry about that, did I hear you were after some drinks?"

The green-haired male looked you up and down, faint recognition in his eyes as he cleared his throat. "Can I get a beer and something for my friends?"

The pirate-costumed man spoke up. "Two beers. I usually have three, but-"

"And a milk!"

You scribbled down their orders, and Sanji's hand crept around your waist. "Three beers and a milk. And, uh, for madam?"

"Water."

"Still, sparking, mineral? With ice or without? Cubed or crushed?"

You stopped writing and slowly looked up to your boyfriend. "...Taken, Sanji." You reminded him and he stared back at you innocently.

Even the woman leaned back in confusion. "Regular water, in a regular glass. Thanks."

"Right away." He said with a wistful expression, and with the roll of your eyes, you dragged him away before he made a further fool of himself.

AN: Sorry about ending it there, but it was getting WAY too long and I figured it'd be easier to break it up into multiple pieces rather than having one solid chunk of 12k words. Or however long this fic ends up being. I'm actually kinda digging it, so I may continue to write it for a while! Also, I have no idea how old Sanji is meant to be in this universe? According to the internet (and the massive reddit fight I accidentally spawned) it's a tossup between 19 and 26 (OP Sanji's vs the actor's actual age.)

I also hope you appreciate the word-puns. I don't know why but I really enjoy writing them and love to include them in my writing-

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 49

part 1 | part 48 | ao3

cw: angst, canon-typical violence

It's a totally normal Tuesday the day it all starts going to shit.

Eddie's got a show at The Hideout, and Wayne's got a rare night off, so Steve's at his boyfriend's place without him catching a basketball game with Wayne and Ernie. He did try to go to the show, to be fair; wanted to, but Eddie took one look at the way he was cradling the side of his head and winked at him to "sit this one out, big boy," so here he is: drinking beer with two old men and watching the most frustrating game he's seen all season.

"Oh, what the hell was that?" he begs the tiny screen, jumping out of his seat to pace a tight circle and rake his hands over his scalp hard enough to pluck a few strands. Beside him, Ernie shakes his head and mutters "goddamn disgraceful, that's what" and in the kitchen Wayne munches happily on a fresh plate of nachos, taps his bald head with a half-eaten chip and warns, "Quit tuggin' at your hair 'fore you wind up lookin' like this."

"Whatever, old man." Steve rolls his eyes, but he loosens his grip. Drags his hands down his face instead. "Don't act like you're not loving this."

Wayne laughs, a broad, smug smile that's pure Munson mischief. "Never claimed otherwise," he says, then he pops a cigarette in his mouth and tells them to get their wallets ready.

Bastard. His team's doing fine tonight. (And sure, the bet was only five dollars, but it's a point of pride, damn it.)

Steve turns his attention back to the game, where the ref is making yet another call that's so laughably bad Steve's not sure how he isn't getting decked for it. A stray elbow to the face, at least. Fucking something.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles; still pacing, arms crossed. "If they don't fire this idiot, I swear..."

He turns to Ernie for back up; remembers that Ernie's got a lapful of Misty the cat right now and quickly looks away. Creepy little thing still freaks Steve out (even if Ernie's stroking her fur like she's a harmless stress toy and not the razor-clawed, rat-chomping demon she really is.) He still can't look at her. Gets queasy just thinking about all the "presents" she's left him since he moved in.

Ernie catches the way his shoulders tense. "Didn't think you'd be afraid of a little pussy," he teases, scratching the cat behind her ears.

Misty gives a low rumble of approval.

Steve's stomach flips. "Whatever," he scoffs, looking anywhere but at them. "That thing's bad luck. No wonder we're losing."

He settles back into his seat, and the game goes on — and on, and on, until the score gets so embarrassing that Steve considers just getting up and yanking the TV plug out of the wall, or maybe storming out of the place in protest — and he's about to beg Wayne for mercy, ask him to change the station to anything else, when the front door opens so softly it sets off alarm bells in his head.

Steve whips around at the lack of sound. Knows immediately that something is wrong, because Eddie Munson doesn't do quiet. Eddie Munson comes home like fireworks going off: Crack! Whizz! Bang! He's always a burst of noise and energy; he's a fucking racket; Wayne's said so a million times — muttered it angrily when Eddie's music keeps him up, grumbled it fondly over breakfast while he tries to stop himself from falling asleep face-first in a plate of eggs.

Tonight Eddie comes home quiet as a thief. A mouse trying to evade the clutch of Misty's claws. His head's hung low as he shucks off his boots, his face obscured by frizzy hair.

Steve's across the room in a heartbeat.

"Baby?" he whispers, trying to peak behind the curtain. Eddie won't look at him, but his breathing sounds off; labored and whistling, and his hair is matted with something dark. "You okay?"

"Fine," Eddie croaks.

They both know it's a lie.

Steve lifts a hand to gently tip his chin up, but the moment his fingers graze skin Eddie winces and tugs away. "Okay," he says, pulling his hand back. "Okay, I'm sorry, just— can you look at me? Please?" He softens his voice, tries to coax Eddie out. You're safe here; you can trust me.

When Eddie finally looks up, Steve's heart lodges in his throat.

His face is ruined. Caked in dried blood, the skin below his left eye like an overripe eggplant: deep purple and threatening to split down the middle, to spill rotten juices all over the floor. There's a cut above his brow, another nick between his eyes, and— fuck.

His nose is broken.

Steve's gonna kill someone.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, deadly quiet. Whoever it is, they're not living to the morning. Steve's got a car and a nail bat and a boy with a broken nose, and he's going to kill whoever did this to him. "Eddie." He grips his biceps; shakes him a little. Insists. "Eddie, tell me who did this!"

Eddie hiccups a weak sob. Lips shiny with blood and tears, and Steve lets go; feels horrible for making it worse, for letting his anger get the best of him. He wraps Eddie up a gentle hug, cradles him against his chest and doesn't care if Ernie sees. He doesn't give a damn.

"Fucking—" Eddie grunts against Steve's shirt, his teeth chattering around the word. His throat clicks when he swallows. Sticky with blood and phlegm.

Hospital, Steve thinks. Blood loss; sepsis; shock.

Eddie gulps a ragged breath and tries again. "Fucking assholes," he gets out, "they took our- t-took our—" The words cut off with a pained whimper, and he breaks down and just cries. Cries and cries until the heaving subsides, until it lessens to muted trembling in Steve's arms. There's fresh blood on his shirt.

Eddie's blood is on his shirt.

He looks up, eyes wet and wide, and then Wayne's there; two strong, weathered hands firm on Eddie's shaking shoulders. "Is it bad?" he asks Steve. No nonsense; demanding answers. Decorated veteran.

Steve nods without a word.

"C'mon, kid," Wayne soothes. "Let's get you cleaned up."

—

part 50

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[silly-l1ttle-guy]

drop every headcanon of the bucci gang NOW!

ON IT BOSS!!!

--- pookie bear bruno hcs first <3

BRUNO BUCCIARATI IS 100% GAY FOR LEONE ABBACCHIO

they just kinda live together

bruabba holds a special place in my heart

bruno's probably stressed out 24/7

VERY FEMININE GUY

hes got soft features yk?

probably spends like 3 hours doing his hair in the morning

ISTG HE PROBABLY SMELLS SO GOOD

I like to think that he legally adopted Fugo after fugso bugso joined that gang

SHUT UP IT MAKES ME HAPPY

poor guy overworks himself WAY too often

he also has the most gorgeous eyelashes you'll ever see

and they're natural, too

THIS MAN HAS EYEBAGS

he's tired af half the time, idk what you expected

he tries to help fugo control his anger (bc he's a loving mother) (giorno does it better tho)

i reckon bruno's pansexual tbh, he just seems like he wouldn't give a shit about his partner's gender

he likes going fishing

brought Abbacchio along one time

abba got seasick and threw up

he likes to accessorize his hair (hence the mitochondria hair clips)

sometimes he'll let the others accessorize his hair, too

trish makes it look really cute

abba makes it look stunning (bc it's his boyfriend)

narancia just puts random shit in his hair

Mista sings loudly (and badly) to be a little shit while he does Bruno's hair (it turns out surprisingly ok)

giorno deadass just puts a shit ton of stars in his hair

fugo gets mad and almost rips a chunk of Bruno's hair out

Bruno's guilty pleasure is midnight snacks

abbacchio caught him eating a whole ass tub of ice cream while watching il postino: the postman at like 2 in the morning

they watched it together and cuddled afterwards

hot goth

gay for bruno

he probably watches those make up youtube channels

if he didn't join passione he could be a make up artist

lets trish practice on him

HE SEES NARANCIA AS HIS SON AND YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE

he's full on protective of nara too

i like to give abbacchio sharper features when i draw him tbh

also a larger nose

and while we're at it, let's hook that bad boy (the nose)

he and bruno go on wine testing dates

he has very frequent and reoccurring nightmares

(its why he sleeps with bruno)

his parents cut contact when they found out he was a dirty cop :(

this man saw narancia on his first day in the gang and accepted his fate as a father LMAO

he's a gay man and you can't tell he's not. Never felt attraction towards women

he feels like time moves by too fast. Everything happens so quickly and he wishes he could go back and just relive certain parts of his life over and over again because he feels like everything happens so quickly now that he's older and it overwhelms him (this definitely isn't me projecting what're you talking about)

moody blues is sort of the representation of this

SENTIENT MOODY BLUES SUPREMACY BY THE WAY

Moody blues is curvy and i won't accept anything else

make moody look goddamn feminine

not too feminine obviously but like

moody looks like a woman compared to abbacchio

tells people he can't dance but he definitely can

just play the right music and give him enough wine and he'll be dancing like he's never danced before (only in private tho)

YOOUU CAN DANCE, YOOUU CAN JIIVVEEEEE~~

EVERYTIME I LISTEN TO HALF-DECADE HANGOVER BY WILL WOOD I JUST THINK OF ABBACCHIO

and maybe euthanasia by will wood too

not even kidding, abbacchio has the same body type as a greek god

also the strongest guy in the team

the guy that has a dream

GIORNO. WHERE DO I FUCKING START.

I love this weird ass fucking guy

gay for fugo. that's all I'm gonna say.

I KNOW HE ACTED FRUITY W/ MISTA BUT IT'S BC HE'S A LITTLE SHIT WHO LIKES TO FLIRT WITH HIS FRIENDS AS A JOKE

not abba or bruno tho (they're too old for his taste)

remember that one seen where he and mista are up against cioccolata (fuck him btw) and they do that gay ass pose?

prime example of giorno being a little shit

putting his hand down mista's pants was an accident by the way, he just said "fuck it" and went with it

he probably showed the gang the thing he could do with his ear

they had very mixed reactions

one day (before the gang) he woke up and saw his roots were blond and he just went like "sigh, guess I have to grow my hair out and become barbie

THIS MAN RIGHT HERE IS THE TWINK

also bc his dad is dio I like to think that he sunburns easily

he can also see really well and the dark

"It's so dark in here, I can't see shit!" "I can, there's a light switch over there."

everyone was confused as hell bc it was pitch black in that room

this man is gay. he likes BOYS and BOYS ONLY

i like to think Giorno's a mischievous lil guy

he does something silly then giggles and runs away

it's to make up for the fact that he didn't have a proper childhood

ALSO CURLY HAIR GIORNO SUPREMACY

his hair is gorgeous and luxurious AND SO FUCKING CURLY

he uses about 20 hair products every day (21 if he's going on a date)

he can calm fugo down so easily too

"I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU NARANCIA-" "Hi fugo!" "Oh, hey Giorno."

it's really scary (according to narancia and mista)

this man loves gardening

born to be a gardener, forced to be a gangstar

autistic (it runs in the family)

the stink

Mista is the type of guy who showers once or twice a week

he only washes his clothes when they get too dirty

I like to make this man a little wider honestly

GIVE THIS MAN SOME CHUB PLEASE

he's muscular, but he's gotta have a little meat on there too

I like to think that Mista outright REFUSES to shave

the only place that he can grow barely any hair is his face

never shaved his face. He doesn't have much facial hair and he'll be damned if he ever has to get rid of the little that he has

bffs with trish btw

they make fun of each other all the time

in a friendly way

he honestly looks the least gay out of everyone

probably bi with a heavy preference towards girls (he had a boyfriend one time tho)

STINKS SO BAD IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY

sometimes he shoves Narancia's face in his armpit for fun

I'm not even kidding Narancia probably threw up one time bc Mista stank so bad

older brother figure to EVERYONE

Giorno? that's his baby brother. Narancia? his favourite brother. Trish? his little sister. Fugo? that's his angry little brother.

I have so many mista headcanons it's unreal

his hair is so fucking curly istg

and it's black too

very short tho. also super greasy

his love language is physical touch, but not in the usual physical touch way

he won't really hug people or hold hands or just do something normal, oh no

my guy likes to pick people up and throw them over his shoulder

it's definitely not to show off how strong he is

definitely

everything about him is so crusty

he literally gets along with anyone tho

you can't tell me this guy DOESN'T smoke weed

not very often but like

once every month or two he'll get high to relax

he stopped after Giorno took over as boss (bc yk, drugs are a no no)

he probably thinks France isn't real tbh (but as a joke to annoy fugo)

I HAVE MORE MISTA HEADCANONS BUT I HAVE TO CUT IT SHORT BECAUSE I NEED TO MOVE ON TO THE OTHERS

angry strawb (lots of angst in this one)

fugo is deeply in love with Giorno (FUGIO FOR LIFE)

a little bit of angst warning btw

bc of his past, fugo HATES physical touch

if someone touches him he will flinch

very uncomfortable in crowded places

Mista's love language is physical touch, but he refrains himself from touching Fugo

it's really sweet

"HEY FUGO! Lemme give you a high-five! Wait, no, you don't like that. Have this cool rock I found instead!"

he's trying

Fugo really appreciates it

after phf, he let Mista be one of the two people who can touch him (the other person is Giorno)

Fugo just randomly hugged him one day and that was that

he was really distraught when he found out Narancia, Bruno and abba died

especially Bruno

like I said before, Bruno adopted him after he joined the gang, so he genuinely saw Bruno as a father figure

definitely called Bruno "dad" in private

He genuinely cried when he realized he missed Bruno's funeral

MOVING ON TO THE NON ANGSTY STUFF BC IM GONNA CRY

when he's a bad mood, he listens to music with Abbacchio (his dad's cool boyfriend who he looks up to)

will correct any and all spelling or grammar mistakes

nerd supreme

i like to headcanon that Fugo's albino

(MANGA FUGO FOR LIFE)

he's really sensitive to sunlight because of it

his vision isn't that good, too

it's not bad enough to the point where he can't read and all that, but it definitely bothers him

since it wasn't too serious, he got some glasses that corrected his vision

he only really wears them when he's reading now, but he used to wear them all the time when he was younger

GOD I HAVE A LOT OF FUGO HEADCANONS

sometimes he wakes up and there's just a bouquet of flowers at the foot of his bed (I WONDER WHO THAT WAS HMMMM)

Narancia's like a little brother towards him

he doesn't care that nara's a year older than him, that's his brother

genuinely will forget to eat if he isn't reminded (me projecting)

i have more but i'm gonna have to end it here

BABY BOY <3

I LOVE NARANCIA I HAVE A NARANCIA PLUSHIE (and a giorno one but that's less important)

he originally had really good eyesight, but after his eye got infected his eyesight just kinda went bad

his eyes expired

but seriously though (woah no way, silly little guy can be serious?), he's almost blind in the eye that got infected

doesn't wanna wear glasses bc "they'll ruin his reputation"

he's also really short compared to everyone else in the team

he's really insecure about it

can and will fight anyone who says something even remotely teases him for his height

low iron for sure (me too bud, me too)

Abbacchio just took on the role as his father and makes sure he eats all his food

"But it tastes badddd" "Eat it or I'll shove it down your throat. Also, it has good iron."

he ate it, but was very pouty about it the whole time

mista will point at things made of iron and say shit like "that's what you need" or "you should eat that to get your iron levels up"

skinny but he's really strong

my guy has a six pack but looks scrawny as hell

Mista's jealous of him lmao

"Why do YOU get a six pack?!" "because you're fat"

Mista then forced Narancia to smell his armpits (they were rank)

he does a lot of shit with Mista lmao

partners in crime

he got high with mista one time and never did it again

oddly flexible

he's probably dyslexic

the girlboss

live laugh love Trish

lesbian fr

she practices makeup on Abbacchio

another one that sees abba as a father figure

they point each other's nails and go shopping together

Mista's bff fr

they do karaoke together

yk that one tiktok sound that was that like "OH SHIT IT'S IN KOREAN" and then starts singing it perfectly anyway

that's her and Mista

Mista's the one that sings it lmao

i don't have that many headcanons for trish tbh

she likes to try out new hairstyles a lot

they're always short tho

she doesn't like growing out her hair

says it's too much of hassle

we love trish in the household

she has freckles (from doppio)

yk those weird ass dots diavolo has in his hair? she has those but they're less noticeable

talks shit about people with abbacchio

she likes ranting about stuff to giorno bc he's a good listener

big fan of scented candles

gave mista soap for his birthday

she has frequent headaches (something she got from doppio, bc i hc that he has frequent headaches)

ANYWAY THAT'S IT FOR NOW

do you wanna hear about my la squadra headcanons? Doppio and Diavolo??? PLEASE I HAVE SO MANY GOOD HEADCANONS JUST LET ME RANT-

[andhumanslovedstories]

I'm working on a story where the protagonist and main POV character is the only character I haven't named yet. I'd sorta convinced myself that if I kept using the placeholder name for long enough, that would just become her name, but it hasn't, and now I'm doing final edits like God am I gonna send her out into the world with the wrong name because I can't think of anything better? Am I not gonna get a good grade in character names?? It doesn't matter too much, I mean there's no way the name would bother other people as much as it's bothering me, but also I made the choice to have basically every character use she/her pronouns so I have to use names all the goddamn time so you can follow the action at all. This name is in like every sentence. And I don't like it, but I can't think of a single name I like better. So I keep planning to figure it out later. But I'm getting closer and closer to finishing my edits. I'm writing this for a deadline, so I can't even just take a break and keep thinking about it. It seems increasingly likely that my last edit will be changing the name.

And I keep thinking fuck, naming a child would be so goddamn stressful. I simply could not do it. I would think about names every single moment of every single day of the pregnancy or adoption or kidnapping or whatever, and then baby would still have a blank birth certification for the first two weeks their life. Shoutout to people who name people, it truly couldn't be me.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for blacklisting people from commissioning me for not reading my TOS?

I (F25) am a digital artist. I mostly draw furries, creatures, monsters, etc. including NSFW content and I have a TOS. It's a pretty basic TOS, basically just "Here's what I will and will not draw, if you do not send payment within 48 hours your commission will be cancelled and someone else will get your slot, I will send a sketch before moving on to line art so you can check it, if I mess up/forget something I will fix it for free, etc."

My list of things I won't draw is VERY small. Like, there's five things on the list, either things that I cannot draw without extreme stress and difficulty (goddamn robots) or things that are personal triggers (like vomit).

Despite this, I have had many, MANY people asking for commission slots (I do five comms at a time to prevent burnout) and completely ignoring my TOS, or just trying to skirt around it by saying "I know you said you can't draw *insert thing here* but will you draw that thing if I pay you extra?" That's just an example, but you get the idea.

It's fucking infuriating. It's a waste of time and results in me earning less money (which I need to eat, get my meds, pay bills, etc.) because I have to deal with people asking for a commission slot and then going "Teehee can you make an exception for me :3".

I've now added a rule to my TOS stating that if you ask for something on my Will Not Draw list, I will permanently blacklist you from my commissions. As in, even if you ask for something that I WILL draw, I will still not do a commission for you if you cannot do the bare minimum to respect my boundaries or use basic reading comprehension.

I thought it would be fine but a few people, including other artist friends have said it's kind of a dick move for not letting them commission me for ANYTHING, even things I will draw.

One person even called me ableist and said "What about people who have ADHD or dyslexia???"

Which is kind of funny because I literally have severe ADHD and when I'm commissioning people I just simply take a few extra minutes to double check and make sure I don't ask for something they won't draw.

What are these acronyms?

[ifearimaybeanamericanidiot]

this might be a little confusing

But could u do a chris smut where his gf is always preaching that she’s the dom in their relationship (she calls the shots, she’s stronger, her way, etc.) but it’s only cus he lets her n she just pushes the jokes too far so he just shows her he’s really in charge

Yes absolutely 🤭

Chris x reader

TW: smut 🤭, uhhh language, a wee bit of humiliation cause of pride/ego 🫶

Nick and I sit in the back seat of the car. Chris is in the passenger seat, and Matt is driving like always. We're making jokes and playing around, just generally having a good time. Everything is fine. Well, everything was fine.

"Chris give me that!" I say and grab his drink from him. I take several sips.

"No." He whined, drawing out the word. I take one last big gulp before giving it back to him. He was in a sour mood for the remainder of the car ride.

"Goddamn, you two dumb fucks. Now I have to piece together a video." Nick says. I feel bad for making editing harder on him. I can tell Matt is stressed from the way he grips the steering wheel. The ride home is silent.

By the time we get home, Chris has calmed down a good bit. Matt seems to be less anxious about the whole situation, Nick is still annoyed about more editing on his part though. I can't really blame him.

"Sorry Nick. I didn't mean to make editing harder for you." I say, looking down. He sighs.

"I'm not mad. I'm just tired and I know I won't get to sleep until later because of the extra editing." I nod understandingly.

"I'm still sorry." He nods and pushes my shoulder. His way of saying forget it. We get back to the house. Nick heads up to his room to edit in peace.

"I'm going to my room, probably for the night. I don't know." Matt says. He's obviously still anxious from the drive, stressed from me and Chris and Nick. I give him a quick hug.

"Don't feel pressured to come out, okay?" He nods before heading to his room. Now it's just me and Chris.

"You can apologize to everyone else?" Chris huffs.

"What?"

"You took my drink and drank the rest of it. Yet you can apologize to everyone else. Everyone but me." I get the feeling he's upset about more than just the drink. I've spent the whole day egging him on, teasing him, bossing him around. He hasn't said anything about it though.

"Well I'm sorry." He groans.

"It doesn't count now. You're only saying it because I complained."

"No, Chris. I am sorry." He doesn't say anything. I don't have anything else to add. We stand in silence for a few minutes. I pull my phone from my pocket to go on TikTok for a bit.

I unlock my phone, Chris snatches it. "Hey!" I raise my voice slightly. "Give it back. Right now." I hold my hand out.

"No. I'm tired of you bossing me around. You act like you're so bad and tough, but you aren't. You only tell me what to do because I allow it." I jump and try to grab my phone, but it's just out of my reach. His finger is scarily close to a couple apps I would die if he found. I need my phone back.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Just give it back."

"Beg for it." His face is dead serious, not an ounce of amusement.

"What? No. I'm not going to beg." I cross my arms. He steps closer, I take a step back. We do this dance until my back hits the edge of the counter. Shit. He slides my phone into the cabinet above me, far out of my reach.

"If you want it back, you're going to beg me for it."

"I'm not going to beg!" He lifts me onto the counter. His body is pressed between my thighs. I try to push him away, but in one quick movement, he has both of my hands caught in one of his.

"I let you think you're stronger than me. I let you win arguments. I'm fucking tired of it." His other hand is on the small of my back, dragging me closer. "Fucking beg."

I squirm round, but can't break free. Between the proximity and the squirming, I can feel something warm and hard pressed against my thigh.

"Come on baby. I know you're hard. Let me take care of you. You can just sit there and be good, and I'll-" He cuts me off.

"Beg for my fucking cock." This is new. "Be a good little play thing, and beg for me. You've made me beg, it's payback time." I started at him. He leans in, as though going for a kiss. He pauses right before he gets to my lips. "Beg for me to kiss you. To touch you. For anything. Or I'll leave your phone up there, and you, soaking wet, on the counter."

"P-please Chris. Kiss me. I need you." I feel pathetic and my face is burning. He groans and leans in, closing the gap. The kiss is intense and satisfying.

"Good play thing." I feel myself throb. "I'm going to have my head buried between those pretty thighs, and then when you're soft and shaky from your orgasm, I'm going to fuck you on the counter." He looks at me, expecting, waiting. I gulp.

"Please Chris. Please do what you want. Please, please, I need it. Please." Tears have welled up in my eyes from the sheer embarrassment I feel. He tips his head back and moans softly, his free hand gripping his dick through his pants.

He pulls me closer to the edge and flips my skirt up. He pulls my underwear off after teasing me for a moment. "Fuck, do it again. Beg for me again."

"Please Chris. Please I need your mouth on me so bad. Please." He gives in. My hands are free now, so I lace them into his hair, just to have something to hold. It doesn't take long, him working his tongue and his fingers deep inside me. It's probably 15 minutes and then I'm cumming all over his face. He groans against me, sending shocks of 'too much, so good' through my body.

He pulls away, laying his head on my thigh and panting. After a minute, he stands up fully and flips me over. I can feel the head of his cock line up with me. He teases a few times before finally sinking into me.

His hands come up to lace around my tits, playing with and kneading them. He's fucking into me hard and I'm already feeling the overstimulation kick in. My legs start to shake, as do my arms. My arms give out, instead I lay my head on them.

"Fuck ma. You feel so good, my perfect fucking fit. We're fucking made for my cock. Shit, I love you." He pulls my body into his, pressing my back against his chest. "Brace your legs on the counter, baby."

He lends some help, and it completely changes the angle. He's pounding my walls and I'm struggling to stay relatively quiet.

"Fuck ma." He holds one tit in his hand, toying with it, his other hand toying with my clit. "Gonna cum soon. Gonna fill you up." He fucks faster into me. I'm reaching my own high, but he finds his first. As he's finishing, I find the end of my rope, my walls squeezing around him, milking him for all his worth.

"Fuck. Chris- fuck." I grip his arms until my orgasm finishes out.

"I love you." He pulls me into his arms. "Let's go take a shower, pretty." He grabs my phone from the cabinet and carries me down to his room.

"I love you more." I nuzzle against his neck.

[cdroloisms]

fuck it i'm making this c!awesamdreamity sitcom AU (dr3 edition) a real thing for the funnies alone. why the hell not

premise: they get thrown into a sitcom. that's it. they're in a sitcom world that plays by sitcom rules, which means that everything that occurs Has to conceivably work within the genre. that means no throwing dream in a cell underground and treating him as a prisoner, sam, that's not funny enough. they can't leave or escape, and if they try to do something that Doesn't work within the genre they'll either just be completely unable to do it or they'll be foiled in some genre-specific way (ex: sam tries to build a cell on the property anyway and ends up in a three-episode arc about his fight with HOA)

the main point of this set up is that anything is technically possible as long as it works within the bit. also, yes, there's a laugh track, and whether or not the characters can hear it has everything to do with what's the funniest option (c!sam fucking hates the thing, for the record.)

highlights of this include:

the sitcom Demands A Relationship. because neither c!quackity nor c!sam is willing to do the whole married couple spiel with c!dream, that means that c!awesamq are the ones that are officially "together." this goes so fucking badly and is like, the primary reason why i'm making this a thing in the first place

c!dream isn't Allowed to be a prisoner, but he does have to stay within the house. between the genre and c!awesamq's opinions, he's not really going to end up as just "the roommate" or family or you know, an official third part of the throuple, so the maid it is

a level of violence is allowed but like, the actual pain/consequences has everything to do with whether it works For The Bit or For The Drama. like, c!q might hit c!dream with the car and nothing will happen bc it'll be played off as a punchline, for example, but also a dramatically timed fall might lead to someone walking around with a broken arm for an 'episode' or two. there's no magical accelerated healing here, just the Power Of The Bit

similarly, a lot will be allowed to slide as long as you're genre savvy about it. c!quackity won't be able to get away with outright torturing c!dream for hours, of course, but pushing him around is fine as long as it's funny enough. especially if it comes with a side of romantic drama

speaking of the romantic drama, hoo boy are c!awesamq a fucking TRAIN WRECK. like my god are they so toxic. c!sam is literally the quintessential asshole condescending boyfriend on that server and c!q has a quick fuse, a hell of a temper, and generally reacts to being talked down to with several knives and cursing. they take to a domestic romantic relationship as a fish does to . uh. lava maybe. like it's BAD

think screaming slammed doors things being thrown there's a glass sailing towards c!sam's head screaming over the banisters holes in the drywall fine! FINE! [laugh track] bad. it'd be gloriously, ridiculously toxic. the crowd goes wild

c!quackity has to contend with the fact that his husband is absolutely down horrendous FOR THEIR STUPID GODDAMN MAID .

the maid also wants his husband more than quackity :/ sidelined in his own relationship once again (i wonder why, Q)

how well they adjust has everything to do with how well they acclimate to the genre. c!quackity does the best job--he knows how to play a crowd and do so well. c!sam by FAR acclimates the worst. he's inherently completely offended by the idea of everything about his job and the prison being turned into Entertainment, into something Funny, into A Show To Consume and basically reacts to the sitcom thing by trying to ignore it. this, of course, means that he ends up generally being the butt of the joke

c!dream is. well. at least he's got less stress about dying i guess. and is generally a lot less injured bc starvation and torture lead to lower comedy ratings smh. is still kinda in hell but you know yesterday he got to watch c!quackity hit c!sam over the head with a frying pan and literal cartoon birds appeared so

honestly he's kinda quietly having an existential crisis and lowkey earning sympathy points from the proverbial audience by being the one that comes off the least as Just The Complete And Utter Worst

(meanwhile: c!sam is yelling at c!quackity for how he's apparently cut up all of his dress shirts while c!quackity screams back about something something and he can stick the scissors up his ass)

[laugh track]

[ohnonononononono567]

Artist - John "Soap" McTavish x gn!reader (fluff)

Quick drabble because i can't tell if the guy I like is sending me messages so if you want to comment please comment me advice im going fucking crazy im too socially inept to understand his messages

Johnny found that the world was his muse, his friends, his experiences, everything.

Catching himself drawing you over and over in his notebook, he knew he was too far gone. 

Your eyelashes, the slight jiggle of your arms as you walk, the way your cheeks could give away a blush no matter how much or little melanin you possessed. 

It was harmless. Just practice he told himself.

Entering your room, stiffening at the sight of you wearing nothing but casual attire...god he's done. Say this shit to the guys at the pub, and he's sure he'd die fom embarrassment. Gunfire, explosives, his lieutenant's testing attitude, his captains questionable ethics, he could handle it.

But choosing between gluing his eyes at the sight of you or avoiding his gaze from you completely was probably asking him to choose between a million dollars or causing the destruction of the world.

He allowed himself in.

He was goofy, charming, he was a social butterfly. You entertained him of course, how could you not? Johnny Soap Mactavish was bright. He brightened up a room.

And if you only knew how bright you smiled with him around.

He sat you down on your bed, and pulled a chair across from you, silently sketching your features. Gently holding your chin in one hand to tilt you to the side to get a better view of your jaw, his thumb seeming to idly rub across your lips momentarily, before he stopped himself. 

Don't ruin a good friendship.

Sketching you; he thanked you with a hug, no matter how badly he wanted to tackle you to the bed and tell you over and over he was infatuated with everything about you, to the most irrelevant iota of your being. 

Slowly...he started slipping little doodles of you at meetings. Walking past and allowing the touch of his gloved hands on your shoulder linger, a singular sticky note showing a little doodle of you unapologetically smiling.

He found himself in a room, giggling, but always glancing at you, to make sure his joke even landed. He could make a room of millions laugh, but your opinion would be the only to matter.

A drive back from the pub one night, he was sat beside you, and god bonnie you're exhausted. Laying your head on his bulky shoulder, he idly started to scratch at your scalp, stroking your hair aswell. 

Internally he was nervous. He could pick up a girl with ease, hell, he's been able to get some handsome blokes into his bed before. But you? You were probably his greatest fear. And here you were.

You were comfortable with him. Him of all people. A man who's known strife early on, a man who doubts you'd care to hear him bitch about his past, as you fell in and out of sleep on his shoulder.

He became bolder after that. Sitting next to you, holding your hand around, arm around your shoulder as he entered a room, standing by you even if you didn't do anything.

He entered your room one day, exhausted; stressed. He doesn't know why he chose this room today of all days.

But he did.

Laying his head on your tummy as you both laid down, scrolling idly on his phone, before he feels your fingers gently thread through his mohawk. 

"It's gettin' long, huh?" He mumbles against your stomach, looking at his phone still as you nod.

He sighs, leaning up, looking at the being in front of him.

"I'm gonna kiss you. I've wanted to for a while." He blurts out, looking at you deadpanned.

"John," You giggle. That goddamn smile, makes him weak every time, 

"What?" You say

"You heard me."

"Oh."

"You wan' tha'?"

"Yeah."

He chuckles, pressing his lips softly onto yours for a peck, leaning his hands down to hold your sides, before deepening the kiss. 

If only you weren't too dazed to realize you'r little artist was tracing little hearts as he held your sides.

Projecting with fanfiction instead of communicating with them is my favorite thing

[deanoheartspie]

Something RED 6

Pairings: Reader x Soldier Boy (Ben)

Warnings: None.

Summary: you knew soldier boy since you were young until the man had gotten tested he had become a whole different person. So when he comes back after Crimson and other supes send him away, it makes him angry

A/N: I love hearing your thoughts! So share what you think.

Edited?: no I'll edit all the mistakes tomorrow. 10/31

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Ben had sat at the picnic table devouring his sandwich like it was going to leave him. He had been acting a little weird, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it until he cleared his throat.

“You know, Blondie the rip-off version of me? I'm his dad”

A small laugh left your lips and you shook your head, “That's a great joke”

Ben on the other hand didn't laugh, not one bit for the first time he looked dead serious which made you gasp “How is that possible...?"

“I get called into Vogelbaum’s lab for an experiment, some stupid shit about genetics. I basically beat my meat into a cup.” he stated very short, he ran his hands through his brown hair and sighed.

“I'm in a tough spot here yeah?”

You awkwardly nod, it did make more sense for Homlanders issues now... You were in no position to tell Ben what to do and neither was Hughie or Butcher if they found out.

“Am I the only one that knows?” you ask wondering who knows already and who you'll have to deal with.

Ben nods “That stupid shit is really mine. He's got a goddamn cape for Christ's sakes” he cringes and shakes his head disprovingly, before downing the rest of the whiskey bottle when smuggled into the basket when you had announced that you both were going for a picnic.

It grew silent. There wasn't much else to talk about it, honestly? It felt kind of weird knowing this information but then again... You were curious to what path Ben would choose. The team or Homelander?

“You should lay off the drinking, I can't exactly carry you back the motel” you teased trying to lighten up the mood, “Also back to what your were saying, what's wrong with a cape? They are pretty cool unless you have a boring looking one”

Ben gave you a side glanced and looked at you in disgust. “Y/n. It's a goddamn cape. It's just stupid.” he mutters his point and you raised a brow.

••••••••

“What the fuck is wrong him ay?” Butcher points to Ben who looks like he's conflicting all his life choices.

“Soldier boy you betta not be rethinking our agreement.” The bearded man kicked, Bens foot which nearly ended in a cat fight between the two.

“Butcher leave it alone im handling it.” you said sternly growing annoyed that she had to snap at these men like the we're children for gods sakes they are grown men!

“I talked to blondie on the phone today” Ben tells you before you left the room, stopping in your tracks and turning around.

“You what?!”

“I told him I was his father and all the bullshit.” he said waving around his blunt as he talked.

You were stunned. Annoyed but stunned. Did he know what homelander was like? Because shit like this was going to get them killed.

“Now I need to go tell Butcher this, stay here and I swear to god Ben don't touch anything” you were stressed and on your wits end at this rate. So much was happening and it was all going to fast.

“Butcher. We need to talk.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @hobby27 @kat-nee @globetrotter28 @tmb510 @beskarfilms @deans-spinster-witch @stoneyggirl2

[neuroticbookworm]

Boston and his "friends"

Last week, after I watched Boston get wrongfully branded by Atom as a sexual predator and isolated from the group, I was seething with rage and wanted to see Cheum, Mew and Ray to fall at Boston's feet and beg for his forgiveness after the truth comes out.

But today, honestly, I think it is a better character arc for Boston if he doesn't get that resolution from them. Because he fucking doesn't need it. He has defined a wonderful relationship with Nick, his first love, that will give him joy until he leaves for New York (cc @lurkingshan) and he has listened to Atom's grovelling apology. He has no other hangups tying him down.

Cheum, Ray and Mew, on the other hand, do not have the conviction to confront the truth in their relationships. They accused Boston of being duplicitous but none of them approaches their own problems with anything even remotely resembling a healthy communication.

Cheum heard her brother tell her that he lied about Boston taking advantage of him and all she could say was this:

She did not feel horrified that her brother chose to slander a friend, and she does not feel any remorse for her actions. I bet she thinks it's all fine because Boston is a slut anyway, he slept with Top and ruined Mew's relationship, so why does it matter that he was wrongfully accused this one time. Well, Cheum, it doesn't matter to him, but it will matter to you as you have not learned the integrity to face your mistakes and apologize for them. An apology should not be made expecting forgiveness in return, and it should not be valued based on the moral standing of the person you're apologizing to.

Mew. Oh, Mew, Mew, Mew. @lurkingshan pointed out during our post-episode conversation that Mew cannot stick to his schemes, he peters out at the first sign of stress and gives in to the status quo. He wanted to give Top a second chance, and then Boeing showed up. After understanding that Boeing is playing games for his own revenge-on-Top agenda, he initially goes along with it to spite Top. And after all the scheming has made both of them utterly miserable, he listens to his parents and finally decides to give Top an honest-to-goodness second chance. But, he doesn't give it after going through the painful process of self-reflection, and communication where both of them can set clear boundaries and understand where they each stand. Nope. Instead, they just casually agreed to push it away to deal with it in the future.

I declare my love for Theory of Love as loudly and passionately as I can whenever I get the chance on this hellsite, and one of the main reasons why I love that show so goddamn much is the conversation between Khai and Third in the Theory of Love Special Episode, where Khai admits that a girl kissed his neck at a party and how he tried so hard to keep Third from finding out. Third then tells him that he has known about the kiss the whole time, and how Khai need not worry; he knows the difference between an accident and a kiss with purpose. He then tells him that Khai is not the only one trying to make this relationship work, he is trying too, because Third also loves Khai and wants to be with him.

This is what healthy communication looks like. The issues and miscommunications must be tackled head-on and resolved before moving on, so they don't fester into an even bigger and more painful problem later. You can't "leave the problems to the future" and expect it to work itself out. In case y'all don't remember, Khai had to step on literal broken glass to stand his ground and plead his case after a miscommunication, and it was still not enough. That's how painful this process is and I will bet my bottom dollar that Mew has exactly zero percent of the fortitude it takes to talk through a relationship faux pas.

Ray, the human embodiment of a fucking dumpster fire. All he says to Sand after accusing him of taking money from his dad in exchange of taking care of him is "I'm sorry" and Sand immediately takes him back into his arms (I'm so embarrassed that I was briefly rooting for Sand at the start of the show). He does his community service with Sand for a hot minute and then immediately plans an overseas trip to whisk him away. He spells it out, yet again, how he is always looking to "buy" Sand (cc @wen-kexing-apologist)

Buying Sand, ya know, the exact same thing he was mad about, one episode ago.

Trying to prove that Ray's communication skills are severely subpar and unhealthy is like trying to prove that the water in the ocean is salty; the more time I spend on this, the stupider I would look.

All of this is a long winded way to say that Cheum, Mew and Ray will be too busy trying to escape their own trappings, the ones they built for themselves while they convinced self and each other that they are better than Boston; while Boston moves on with his life, living unapologetically as he always does. They can keep their apologies -- I don’t need it, and neither does Boston.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

oohh please can i request "i want to deserve you. i'm trying to deserve you" from the yearning prompts for jackharding? i miss them :)

Jack isn't quite sure what to do when he realizes his whiskey glass is empty at the same time as Chick walks over with one in each hand. He hands Jack the one in his left hand, takes the empty, and slips it onto a passing waiter's tray. 

"Since when do COs make the bar run?" Asks another Colonel. Jack intentionally isn't remembering his name. He's certainly not the type who wants to be known by anything but his rank. He's the only one in their little crowd who's standing there without his Air Exec.

"You were wondering how I managed to keep Major Kidd as my Air Exec," Chick says, and for a moment, his hand is touching Jack's lower back. "A little bribery goes a long way." 

The other Colonels and Air Execs chuckle, and Jack manages an amused smile before he sips his whiskey. It's the top-shelf stuff, something he wouldn't pick for himself. Something Chick doesn't choose for him, either, usually. There's something going on with it, Jack thinks, but he isn't sure what.

"How does he keep you from going up?" Colonel Mitchell asks. Jack likes him. He's got the friendly energy of a strict but fair teacher. 

"He denies the request," Jack replies, dry as he can, and that gets another laugh, as he knew it would. He hates this particular small talk, though he doesn't blame Colonel Mitchell for continuing it. It happens every goddamn time they have to come to one of these meetings. Apparently, he's so good at his job, there's gossip and attempts to poach him. None of it has ever made it to Jack himself. He only know because Chick's told him it happens during the closed-door meetings with COs and upper brass.

"Honestly, I'm glad I can't go up again," says an Air Exec named Thorton. "I think I'd gnaw my desk to pieces trying to stay on the ground if I could still fly." He's missing most of his left ear, and there's a large divot in his head that his close-cropped hair doesn't hide. Jack's never asked; he assumes it was a piece of flak. 

"I do better going up now and again," says Callio. "I get itchy for it." 

"You'd think you young men get itchy for enough things that flying wouldn't be one of them," says the Nameless Colonel. It's clearly meant to be a joke, but the laughter is only polite. He doesn't seem to notice. He zeros in on Jack again. "You may be the only one with a good head on his shoulders amongst these boys, Major. That's how you make and keep Air Exec."

The implied insult to Thorton and Callio makes Jack's neck prickle. They have the same stressful, difficult job, and Jack doesn't like to hear a CO dismiss the work. Chick shifts, falling half a step back like he's watching Jack's back. It feels good to know he's there. Jack takes a sip of his whiskey and meets Nameless Colonel's gaze. "I told Colonel Harding to shove the job," Jack says. "I believe my first words to him were, 'If I'd wanted the job, I'd have thrown myself down the stairs."

"The fucking stairs," Chick adds.

"Right," Jack agrees, watching Nameless Colonel go red in the face. "The fucking stairs."

Thorton and Callio are trying not to laugh. Colonel Mitchell looks like he can't decide if he should be amused or disappointed. The other Colonel rounding out their group slips to one side and disappears. 

"And you let him talk to you like that?" Nameless Colonel asks Chick. 

Chick steps forward and shrugs, his shoulder touching Jack's. It calms his anger a little. They're on the same page with this. Always have been. "I've told you before, I'd rather let the boys say their piece than force them to bottle it up."

"If you'd been my Air Exec, I'd have busted you down to private," Nameless Colonel says to Jack. 

"Oh, shove it up your ass, Eddie," Chick says before Jack can figure out what else to say. "You're the one trying hardest to fucking steal him out from under me." 

"With all due respect, Sir," Jack says, "No thank you." 

Callio slips away just like his CO, so pink-faced that Jack is worried he's going to collapse. 

"Come on, Jack," Chick says, touching Jack's back again. "Let's find a different group."

They don't find a different group. Chick takes them to the bar to refill their glasses, then leads Jack into the garden behind the hotel. They don't speak, simply walk side by side as they follow a path until they find a quiet spot that's mostly dark. 

"I shouldn't have done that," Jack says. "It was rude."

"Some men deserve it," Chick says. "Even with Colonel in front of their name."

"Maybe," Jack says. "I don't know." He shakes his head and sips his whiskey. "Why'd you bring me the good stuff, anyway?" he asks. "Why'd you even get me a drink? You don't need to bribe me. You know I'm sticking with the job."

Chick snorts quietly. He sips his whiskey, then pulls a cigar from his pocket. His lighter briefly lights up his face, then he takes a deep breath and tips his head back to blow the smoke straight up. "I want to deserve you," Chick says. "I'm trying to deserve you."

Jack waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. "I don't understand," he says. "You've done nothing but give me room to hate the job and find my way in it. You listen when I talk to you. You take me seriously. Honestly, half the Air Execs in that room would kill to have the sort of relationship we have."

Chick rolls his cigar back and forth in his fingers. Jack watches the bright orange ember of it move. "Relationship," Chick murmurs. 

"Friendship," Jack says. "After you laughed at me for saying I'd rather fall down the stairs–"

"The fucking stairs," Chick interrupts. 

"Right. You laughed at me, and you said, 'Major, I don't want a lackey or a klutz. I want a man who will put his back into the job and maybe even become a good fucking friend.'"

"Is that what I said?"

"You know that's what you said," Jack replies. 

Chick takes another drag off his cigar. "I suppose it is." He stares at Jack. Jack doesn't look away. 

"What aren't you saying, Chick?" Jack finally asks. He holds up his glass. "I don't need the good whiskey. I don't need to know it's Colonel Nameless in there who's been trying to poach me–"

"Colonel Revere," Chick says. "I believe you've heard of a relative of his."

Jack shrugs. "So? He's a prick. He'd refuse to send me up just to enjoy a little taste of power. You don't do that. You don't dismiss me. You don't expect me to bow and scrape to your gold oak leaves. You trust me as an equal and as a man who knows the men. You don't need to "deserve" me. You've got me. You must know that."

"I've got you…" Chick shakes his head. "Fuck me, Jack. Fine. Here it is." He takes a deep breath and steps in close, so his mouth is right next to Jack's ear. "I want you in a way I don't currently have you, and seeing you mouth off to fucking Revere of all people makes it worse."

Jack's breath catches. "You mean–" Chick's mouth drags across his cheek. "Oh," Jack says. 

"Every goddamn day you make me crazy," Chick says. "Smart as a whip. Funny. Dedicated. Determined. I've never–I'm an old war horse, Jack. I don't do this."

"Kiss your Air Exec on the cheek?" Jack asks because he's feeling untethered at Chick's confession. The want in his voice. The way he's holding himself so tightly, like relaxing even a little is dangerous. "How long? How long have you…" He can't even finish the sentence. "Chick." 

"Not right away. I had to…to learn you, first."

Jack shakes at that description. "Learn me?"

"I've worked with a lot of pretty faces, a lot of boys who turned my head a little. But you."

Jack reaches out. He touches Chick's wrist. Trails his fingers down the back of his hand until he can feel the texture of Chick's cigar. "But you don't do this," he says, tone making it a question. 

"Not once in my entire career, Jack. I've never–not with anyone in my chain of command. Not ever." 

"Of course not," Jack says. "God, Chick, of course not. You wouldn't–"

"I'm doing it now." 

Jack turns his head, presses his own mouth to Chick's cheek. "No, you're not," he says. "I'm your fucking friend."

"Jack," Chick breathes.

"And if you ever act like I'm just someone in your chain of command again, I will throw you down the fucking stairs."

Chick chuckles, low and quiet. "Is that how it is?"

"That's how it is," Jack says.

Chick turns his head, and Jack stays still, lets Chick kiss him soft and sweet. "I really don't deserve you," Chick murmurs. 

"Yes, you do," Jack says. "Yes you fucking do."