#i'm trying to fuck off here and be lazy

[angie-j-kay]

As far as my real-life problems go, this is pretty mild. But it is hilarious.

My new manager, at the interview: Sadly, we only have part-time positions available now, but if you do well, we'll try to get you more hours as you go.

Me, at the interview: That's perfect, actually. I have some family obligations, and I'm getting a small business started, so I'm only looking for like 20 hours a week, tops.

My new manager: Yeah, okay, can you start training on Thursday?

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

Me, at work: Okay, so I'm gonna do kind of a shit job and be a rubbish employee, so that I can blend in with my equally bored coworkers and not get noticed. Hell, I'm only planning to stay until after Christmas, so whatever. Just want to coast through a few paydays...

My new manager: HOLY CRAP YOU'RE DOING SO GOOD AT CUSTOMER SERVICE AND HAVE SUCH A NICE ATTITUDE! YOU CAN COUNT CHANGE TOO???? YOU DON'T EVEN NEED MORE TRAINING I'M JUST GONNA GIVE YOU FULL-TIME NEXT WEEK! AWESOME!!!!!

Me: ...

Me: ......................

Me: DAMMIT.

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

So far, I can see two problems.

1: I'm not gonna skimp on customer service. The folks who come in here, I'm not dragging them into my desire not to work here. They came in for a nice tasty lunch with minimal hassle, I'm gonna give them that. Hell, I'll give them extra. I've been handing folks extra sauces and jellies and telling them that "This is a multimillion dollar corporation, we can afford a few freebies." I'll do that shit in front of the manager, I do NOT care... sadly, yesterday I saw the manager give a customer two free pieces of chicken when the customer screwed up her own order, saying "This is a multimillion dollar corporation, they can afford two extra pieces of chicken." Like... DAMMIT, SHE STOLE MY LINE!!!

2: The bar here is SO. FREAKING. LOW. I literally watched the line prepper hand a guest their lunch with the reciept purposely arranged ON TOP of their open mashed potatoes and gravy. Like, he looked those poor people in the eye and stuck the reciept in their food. And they were served biscuits that were only half-baked, that was even worse. No one behind the counter cared.

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

I told the assistant manager, when she was complaining of boredom on a slow day, that "You're paid the same on slow days, dude. Just embrace the peace, and get fourteen dollars and hour to do nothing for a little while." Expected to be scolded for a bad attitude. The dude laughed his ass off, said I was right, and went to get some soda.

The store manager came to work two days ago wearing CROCS, and thinks i'm weird for tucking in my uniform shirt. Refuses to ring up employee lunches, just tells you to "tell the line prepper what you want to eat, they'll make it for you."

Like... shit.

#antiwork #i'm trying to fuck off here and be lazy #but everyone else is lazy too. #how am I supposed to be a shit employee now???

[boxwinebaddie]

𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 & 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓪𝓼 𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓮𝔂,

greetings from wherever you are and whatever timezone you are in, and with any luck, in that nook you are tucked, it is still the best day of the year aka...Rile Pile's Birthday ( aka pastorcraigenjoyer on ao3 ), who some of you may call the style one-shot whump wizard now ft. lizard, but i am blessed to call, my lovely computer wife and life. <33

my angel, my darling, my dear, sweet girl: happy birthday, beloved.

( beneath the readmore is a birthday surprise. xx for my favorite redhead writer girl, but also for all of you. fair warning, you do have to read a lot to get there, but i promise that it will be worth the while. )

@actually-its-riley @1moreoffkeyanthem @marryme

i know that you do not like to make a big deal about your birthday, but unfortunately, i am a chaotic bisexual disaster, of whom pep!stan's insane stananigans and big sweeping gestures are #Based, so unfortunately, you have to endure my psychosis, RP.

which you often do, you wild and patient and wonderful thing you. <3 i sent you a DM on new years that was way better articulated than this, but when writing peppermint, i made a lot of friends who were readers and that was extremely gratifying, but i felt very isolated from the style writing community on ao3...until you came along. c':

i was also extremely anxious and over encumbered/ill-equipped to handle the stress that came along with the success of my fanfic, but your support throughout my writing journey made that load lighter.

it has been a joy and an honor being your friend and for once, being able to read rather than write -- all 70+ fanfics you have uploaded. which, given that i have written two unfinished ones, the fact that riley has written that many and finished them is astounding. :***

-- they are also brilliant, btw. we seriously don't deserve her. </3

but here's to trying!

and drying those tears for fears of dying, because when you write, you live forever, clever girl. but before i ramble on too long, my salt of the earth ( dissolved in oj ), here, dear, is my birthday gift to you. <3

so...listen. at first i was going to post a whumpshot for you but...the only person i ended up hurting was myself because i couldn't finish. granted, i never finish anything, as we know, but i had a backup plan.

which is this:

i am thankful for all the support i've gotten writing my fanfictions, but riley has been particularly supportive of me, both emotionally, and also regularly wrecks havoc on her poor followers by reblogging my insane niche au ask meme content onto her blog and likes all my stuff, no matter how weird or deranged it is.

i apologize because that's going to happen again, but this time it will hopefully be slightly more relevant because rp is fond of peppermint, and i am very fond of her so i decided...that for riley's birthday, i will be releasing everything i have in my drafts pertaining to…

pep 12. <3

whiiiiiiich is not much, please don't get your hopes up, but i think it is well deserved by you all and on what better occasion than today?

anyways, your cursed limited edition peppermint package includes:

-literally like the first five minutes of the chapter ( i'm not even joking that's how little i've written -- which is still too much -- and how slow )

-this weird thing that i posted on twitter once where stan is thinking about the friendship bracelets and being emo as fuck oh my god, i made a lot of weird metaphors...it's garbage, but...have at it.

-and finally, a very weird fucking flashback from hell that...is the main reason why my update got stalled because i couldn't figure out how to write it and when i started writing it, i got so comfortable in kyle's narration, i fucking *jersey vc* forgot it was stan season and started writing it in kyle's consciousness, then...tried to switch it back to stans...it's a mess. it's also not done like...at all, so you get a little bit of actual writing and actions and thoughts and a lot of...just dialogue. i wasn't sure about giving you guys the whole thing but i'm not sure if its gonna make it into pep, so i wanted to give you guys a chance to read it before i throw it into the fire where it belongs, smh...jail.

again, rp, i know today is a hard day, but i hope this makes it easier. thank you for being born, happy birthday...and i hope you heal, lovie.

but now...dear readers...without further ado, it is time,

to enjoy the very worst part...

...of the very best day. ;)

-uncle neen the queen with the scheme <3

p.s. the computer quality is ass, it looks better on the app, smh.

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓿𝓮; 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷

a/n: EVERYONE SAY YOU'RE WELCOME UNCLE NINA FOR NOT KILLING STAN!!! HSDLKD STAN LIVES!!!! BARELY! SMH!!! i'm so sorry you waited so long for...sigh...that...anyways here's this too:

𝔀𝓮𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰

A/N: wow...so edgy, nina. i wrote that instead of sleeping one night and i did not take my mood stabilizer so that's why it sounds insane. okay, here is this last thing which is...actually so embarrassing, but i love you all and riley specifically, so merry riley's birthday everyone.

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓾𝓷𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓲'𝓿𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷

A/N: my kylepilequil!!!! HELLO!!!! HOPE YOU HEAL NATION!!! WHO IS UP BITCH!!!! that was choatic, i am not proud of a lot of that dialogue, particularly kyle being insane ( it was not gonna stay like that i promise...it was a road map...leading where? i have no clue ) but i hope that it thrilled you! please smile, pendejos lmaoooo, rip!

#ITS RILEYS BIRTHDAY #HIP HIP HORAY FOR GAY PPL #its a big day for annoying people aka riley fans aka me #i'm sorry this was insane queen u know how i am #i am physically incapable of not being dramatic as hell #BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERES PEPPERMINT!!!! I LOVE U #IM SORRY THIS IS CRINGE BUT I HOPE U HEAL BABES #im physically cringing at how much i need to rhyme things #like ok go off riddler what the fuck #my hands are over my eyes ur welc or im sorry rp & everyone else #the spelling and wording of all of this is hell #but im too lazy to try and make it better #it is what it is…a draft and flaming hot garbage

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Peter after getting his S/O pregnant, pumping his fists in the air and cackling and feeling oh so virile: FUCK YEAH AM I A MAN OR WHAT?! Peter when his baby is born, sobbing his eyes out: OH MY GOD THEY'RE SO FUCKIN SMALL WHAT IF I BREAK THEM???

#Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Peter #shitpost #romantic #platonic #familial #SIR...... SIR TAKE IT DOWN LIKE THREE NOTCHES- #I've been exhausted from work so I've not managed to get a TON of things done here but the queue is currently at 11 I think? #I'm hoping to get it up to 20 by Thursday bc Thursday is my day off #and I've been wanting to go finish a chapter of my longest-running fanfic cuz I've been Craving to finish it lately #but I wanna make sure the queue here is well stocked first so that I don't run the risk of it getting low #cuz I really try to avoid having the queue run out whilst I'm active here it makes me feel bad when I get lazy and let it run out XD #ON THE PLUS SIDE I'VE OFFICIALLY WRITTEN OVER 500 000 WORDS HERE??? THE FUCK???????? #... well it'll be official as soon as a few more things post but #Scrivener tells me that with ALL my content (requests as well as minifics) I'm at 503 000 words #even considering that there's songfics and so some lyrics mixed in I'm sure I'm over 500 000 words WITHOUT lyrics in songfics #can't believe I've written half a million words of Victorian babes #here's to another 500 000 and let me make it to a million words here haha!!! #ANYWAY YEAH I'M REALLY FEELING PETER #I started watching Game of Thrones and tehgreatboo was right in that Tyrion has a lot of Peter energy #at least the way I write Peter dsjkfjdaklfa #I already love him so now I have two short kings one for each arm AND I'm feeling Peter things SO HERE WE GO

[sloaaaa]

there Has to be a better education system than this

#splootspeaks #currently struggling in college rn teehee tangena #i seriously need to be more responsible and catch up w everyone else but it's just so hard #and i hate that i'm behind not because i can't understand the topics (like yea some need a bit more explaining but i get the gist) but bc #i just can't get myself to give a shit #as soon as something becomes uninteresting my brain just shuts off and refuses to absorb any more information and it's so fucking frustratin #nakakainis na feeling ko ambobo ko #i hate being so fucken lazy against my will 💥💥💥 #i don't want to be here amymore #i hate that college tuition cOSTS SO MUCH #it sucks so bad that i'm stuck here bc i have a scholarship that i'll have to pay back big money for if i don't finish the contracy #i wish i had more time for personal art and time to learn things that i'm actually genuinely interested in #and not just things adjacent to my interest #ugh. anyway #trying real hard not to drop out of college. again.

[the-crustoadian]

.

#I'm really sitting here saying to myself I tried my hardest #when I know I haven't #because I'm a lazy piece of shit who doesn't want to work #so I just coasted off the money I had and now #it's all gone #because I'm terrible with money #and it's no one's fault but my own #but like #I AM TRYING #especially now #and this fucking world doesn't want me to get anything #no jobs want me #I'm going to have to move back home with my parents #which will fuck over my roommate #and also I have to abandon my cat #I genuinely just want to kill myself before I have to do any of that #I fucking hate this world #I hate my life #I hate how I am and how I've put myself in this position #and I want it to fucking stop

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

living with people who Walk Extremely Fast while needing time alone in the shared house spaces to do your basic selfcare/starting-the-day routines + having Trauma around being seen even fucking existing in shared spaces, including a long-ongoing and hefty dose of it from said people themselves, is a living hell actually. especially when they insist on constantly leaving doors wide open that would normally mitigate the house being a fucking panopticon and also give you like two seconds' warning that they're entering the space so you can brace yourself or leave. Hate

#moogletalks #me: starves myself for hours; takes my medication extremely late; and spends 90% of my time trapped in my bed with my health deteriorating #while waiting for people to Fucking Go Somewhere Else and Stay There for Like 20 Fucking Minutes Jesus Christ #me: finally either musters myself to tiptoe out and quietly go about my business because i thought they found somewhere else to be #or just fucking gives up and braces myself for sandpaper to my triggers + probably filling the Flip Out and Abuse Moogle meter a little more #housemates: GOD YOU'RE SO FUCKING LAZY RUDE AND SELFISH YOU JUST WANT TO HOG THE COMMON AREAS AND HAVE EVERY LITTLE THING HOW YOU WANT IT #YOU'RE COLD AND UNFRIENDLY AND ONLY WANT TO LIVE HERE LIKE A LEECH BECAUSE YOU STAY IN YOUR ROOM ALL THE TIME #BUT ALSO I HATE SEEING YOUR FACE AROUND AND YOU DON'T SPEND EVERY MOMENT I CAN SEE YOU ENTERTAINING ME OR BEING ''PRODUCTIVE'' #[MULTI-HOUR SCREAMING MATCH AND THREATENING TO MAKE YOU HOMELESS BECAUSE YOU HAD THE UPPITYBITCH AUDACITY TO ASK ME TO TURN A LIGHT OFF WHEN #I LEAVE A ROOM OR MAKE A LIST OF CHORES OR STOP TURNING THE THERMOSTAT TWO DEGREES PAST WHAT YOU CAN TOLERATE] #it's like fucking clockwork and i'm sick of it and when the people involved walk like they're training for the fucking olympics #and constantly remove or invade every single way for you to avoid them the tiniest fucking bit #it makes things a hundred thousand times more stressful!!!!!!! #and i KNOW most of these people would be doing the exact same thing with my bedroom if it was even slightly more socially acceptable #they would be straight up taking the bathroom door off its hinges so they can repeatedly walk in and out while you're trying to take a shit #it is a hundred thousand fucking percent a control thing and i hate it i hate it go AWAY. GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY #abuse cw #ableism cw #venting cw #food insecurity cw #housing insecurity cw #traumatag #adventures in mental illness

[ridiculously-over-obsessed]

You know this time next year, when I haven't spoken to mum in months and I'm not coming home for xmas, I hope she thinks back on days like today and is like "yeah that's probably the reason he went no contact"

#max rambles a lot #sometimes i think that maybe things will be okay and i won't have to cut off the other half of my family when i move out #and then days like this happen where both of them start screaming at me because idk the way i'm feeling is inconvient to them #and *my* autism and mh isn't an excuse for being 'bone idle' and 'lazy' (i swear i'm really trying i'm just Going Through It rn) #but theirs is an excuse to treat me like shit #i fucking hate it here #i've decided that whether or not this opportunity comes to fruition i'm moving to York in september #opposite side of the country while still being in the north #hate the idea of moving out of manchester tbh i love it but a fresh start is what i need so 🤷🏻 #yeah fuck them both tbh i worked so hard to buy them nice xmas gifts that i know they'll love #and almost broke myself on multiple occassions to clean this hovel of a house and it's never fucking good enough #i am the only one who is *still* sleeping on the floor because mum and my sister both have new beds and mattresses #and i got yelled at for trying to figure out if i could afford to get a bed too #because mum didn't want the hassle of sorting my room out too before xmas so i have to wait until the new year??? #like fuck off i'm so tired of being on the floor all the time i hate it here sm #anyway i'm sad and tired and angry i've really had enough i just needed to rant into the void #because if i go off at either of them it turns into 3 days of screaming at me and i'm way too tired for that honestly

[sunburnacoustic]

Ultimate study playlist

Someone's collected a bunch of Muse instrumental versions from across youtube and put them in a playlist!

#gosh I remember when I was trying to learn Showbiz I had an instrumental version I was referring to #I got really lazy to read off a sheet—I was Not Very Good at sightreading (though I suppose I could've found a tab version #but like I said; I got lazy^) plus I said fuck it; I have perfect pitch anyway so I'm just going to learn it by ear from the instrumentals #so. here. I was good enough to work out the notes but too stupid to realise that a pitchshifter pedal can actually send your sound up one #or even TWO octaves #and so I fucking. Tightened my string until it snapped and gave me a nasty cut on my hand #height of stupid - 13 y/o me discovering the power of guitar pedals lol. It was fun though for a short while I became Quite Good a player #but yeah this playlist does not have the same video... it's probably the same audio but it says it was uploaded 7 years ago. #My shenanigans were 9 years ago now :O It's been a while! #muse band #muse #music #muse instrumentals #muse audio #muse isolated audio #playlist #some of them are out of order - so you have a random Resistance era song in the middle of Showbiz #well. I'm gonna be using these!

[slipper007]

Cannot wait to move back to college

#cw negativity #to delete #im so frustrated #nobody listens and everything is always a personal failing. #here I am with three weeks until I go back and i gotta write two 10 page papers. that's already stressful. #so one parent nags me once a day and the other blows their top whenever they feel like it because theyre not done yet #why aren't they done? I'm working through shit from the traumatic bullshit of the year. this is a horrible work environment. I'm burnt out. #but no. go off about how I'm lazy despite straight As and never having had this issue in all my years of school. #i can't fucking sleep. my house is full of distractions but so is everywhere else. there's nowhere to work. #got kittens & im absolutely terrified theyre gonna die horrifically (thats totally not a trauma response from holding my dead cat for hrs) #I've been explaining I can't work without a desk since i was nine and yet there is still nowhere to work. kitchen has no wifi. bed has bed. #(my lil bro got a desk in 2020 except it's covered in his junk & in the living room where everyone always is so I effectively can't use it) #nobody else does shit w the kittens so they're always high energy. keeping me awake @ night. getting me up early. horseplay w each other. #trying to explain that im constantly overwhelmed by the environment gets me nowhere #trying to stay home when everyone else does things gets me nowhere #now im going to see my aunt & grandmother for a week because my gma is looking bad & she's gonna go & you're going to make me feel worse #about it??? you know how much I'll fucking hate myself if I don't go and never see her again? over fucking schoolwork??? #but thank you for reminding me that I effectively only have two weeks left. very helpful. just what I needed. #and thanks dear parents for never listening when I need you to be understanding. surely if you've finished grieving we all have. #how fucking dare they say im using death as an excuse to shirk my schoolwork. as if im not constantly worrying about it. #as if I don't constantly feel like shit about it. i want my school work done too. i just. can't focus. can't sleep. can't do anything. #and they're completely unwilling to do anything to help me with that. #like fuck i always knew i wasn't good enough for them to actually care but really this is a new low i think. #ugh #i was supposed to plan and research my thesis this summer too. so I guess I'll just be behind this fall too. #best four years of my life huh? #college is a fucking joke with shit like this going on #but at least it's not here.

[unluckyxse7en]

I bring a "guy you can just ignore/talk over" vibe to the discord that my BPD really don't like

#(quoting that one meme format but too lazy to edit it myself) #anyways. ended up leaving a server bc it happened a second time there and twice was Enough #which ik out of context sounds bratty but in context? this happens to me all the gd time across many servers and im sick of it #idk if it's smth about ME or people just decide that in big group servers you can just chuck courtesy out the window or what #but it feels pointed after a while! #fsr it's when I ask questions for advice and or starter convos people do this the most - sometimes Immediately after my message #and they and everyone after Entirely ignores my message bc they took the spotlight with whatever #and I'm gonna be real. those times are usually me recognizing i need to interact more and Genuinely Trying To Engage #so to not only have the attempt ignored but also Entirely talked over really fucking sucks bc its like man what do you want me to do here? #stand on my head? cry for attention? perform a musical number?? how about mr. cellophane that sound good to you #just. ugh. I know it Has to be something I'm doing. anytime I talk about it other people are surprised it happens frequently #but idfk what I'm doing to provoke that response!! bc no ones fucking talking to me!!!!! #you see my issue here!!!!! #like am i too inactive? is it me being too sensitive and this is smth everyone does all the time? do i come off as too clingy or tryhard? #who knows! evidently everyone in the server but me #just. ugh. #ik leaving isnt right either but im sick of not understanding what im doing wrong and being ignored Hurts too much to tolerate #not without better understanding of the issue anyways #gripegripegripe #blablablah

[definitelyuseless]

why is it that whenever im trying to write an essay or anything where i need so many words i can never get enough but when im talking about anything theres no reward for talking about im literally so bloody verbose and take so many words to descibe completely simple bloody things that could be described in a lot way less words

#nah i know the real reason its cause im a lazy sod who can never be bothered to research shit but talking about anything i already know #or can get from my head or make ups easy #honestly its how i write uni shit too actually i just bullshit most of it and try to use up the word count #well anything i can make up except fiction thats a bit more effort cause it might be considered semi productive #it takes effort if what you want to say you want it to be good #whereass tumblrs full of shit i know everything i say heres bullshit so its so easy #how the fuck did i just take up so many lines to state the absolutely most bloody obvious thing in existence #guess i do fit in a bit here #ew lol #no cause like I make a joke or whatever but then I have to also get out of my head every serious thought about the thing so it end up #full of totally obvious shit explaining stuff like the inside of my head and my whole thought process and how my brain works just cause it #occurs to me and if it's there why not write it it's so easy and satisfying even though no one reads it and I'd they did they wouldn't care #and they'd think all the additional thoughts are totally unnecessary just make the main point and shut up #but I have to go off in all these different pointless directions adding all this waffle and repeating myself 50 times #just to get my point plus all additional thoughts and different points and extra information bullshit across as clearly ie unclearly and #excessively detailedly as possible and for what to express a point or get it out if my head or both #I guess there's absolutely no bloody point pointing out I'm doing it again right now

[fantasticalleigh]

i love having to nag my adult brother about cleaning up after himself :)))))

#he is the golden child and it shows bc he does ONE chore and calls it for the day #and i'm here every fucking day with my long-ass list of chores busting my ass off #leigh speaks #i'm losing it this week #when he was growing up it was so clear my mom was coddling the shit out of him and i kept warning them it would make #him lazy and guess what???? it DID #but nobody EVER listens to me which is sad because i'm usually right #but no sure just call me a mean bitch for trying to keep this place clean

[kissitbttr]

a very tired miguel who gets home from work and gets babied by his woman

-

It's close to 9pm as you're lying on your bed. keeping your focus on the book you're reading, one that you failed to keep as a part of your routine due to your busy schedule with work. being a fashion designer has it's perks but it also has its dark sides too. especially when it comes to dealing with snobby ass clients

as you are about to flip to another page, you hear the front door opened. keys rattling against the ceramic bowl with a loud sigh follows after. a soft smile appears on your face soon as you realize who it is

“miguel? Is that you?” you softly call out your husband’s name while putting the book down.

"si, mi amor" he appears shortly by the doorway. your tall and handsome fiancee adorned in an unbuttoned white shirt that showcase a bit of his chest and paired with black trousers. a simple work attire but never fail to make your knees wobble. the sight could put any Greek Gods known to a man to shame.

your heart breaks a little seeing how tired he looks. his eye-bags are coming off too strong. a constant reminder on how he has been working himself far too hard despite you telling him to take it easy. but that's just how he is, stubborn.

"how's work my love?" you ask, watching him undress himself, revealing his exposed toned chest before putting the clothes away with the rest of his dirty ones in the bathroom. "I take it, it wasn't a good day?"

"you could say that" he replies tiredly, grabbing a pair of sweatpants off the chair and slipping it on. "trying to get ahold with the new recruits is a fucking job, Peter's been getting on my nerves and I'm working on advancing the technology we have right now in order for it to be easier to identify every single anomaly's DNA we've come across to. But the amount of hypotheses and research I've done are nowhere near close to how I want them to be."

"i would ask Tony Stark for help but que cabron esta muerto" he breathes out a sigh, pinching the thick skin between his brows. "I'm drained, mi amor... i can't fucking do this shit everytime--"

"no hey.. stop" you shake your head, hate having to see your man fronting a distressed look in his face. “come here, Miggy” you pout at him patting your chest for him to lay his head,

he sighs heavily. plopping into the bed and carefully lays himself on top of you. pounding head finding comfort in the warmth of your chest, snaking his big arms around your waist.

you put your arms around him, locking him tightly as your soft lips kiss his forehead making him purr.

“my pretty baby. exhausted aren't you? hm?” you ask in a cooing tone. he hums -- which sounded like a growl to you-- with a nod before nuzzling himself closer. “oh my poor poor baby... my handsome man. always working himself to the bone” another kiss on the forehead

“come up a little closer, hm?” you ask as he barely shifts his body. too lazy and far too comfortable in your arms like this for him to move.

you run your fingers through his soft hair, moving a piece that’s covering his forehead. looking down to see him close his eyes, yet not sleeping.

it’s so funny to see how this freakishly large- broad man who always seems to bring a cold presence that scares everyone off at work—which is technically true— then turns into a huge softie and a love puddle for you in a split seconds.

it’s truly a privilege that you’re the only one who gets to see and feel this

“look how cute you are, baby… do you know how cute you are, hm?” you coo at him, lips kissing his nose and the sharpness of his cheekbone. trying your best to console him in hopes of washing his stress away.

he lightly shakes his head. “no” a curt reply rolls of his mouth, drawing your body closer to him if that's even possible.

you pretend to gasp dramatically at his answer. fingers still stroking his hair lightly. “you don’t?! oh no! we have to fix that! you’re the cutest *kiss* most handsome *kiss* hardworking *kiss* man I’ve ever known” showering him with compliments in between kisses. he breathes out a small chuckle that muffles against your chest.

it’s obvious that miguel rarely gets treatments like this, he’s no one to shy from things but you're his only exception. the only person who truly can get him blush like a little kid when he's shown the slightest bit of affection.

“who’s baby are you hm? are you my baby?” a smile graces your lips as your eyes casting down to his pretty features.

“me. I’m your baby” he mumbles, tightening his grip around you. "always be your baby"

-

inspired by @webslingingslasher their frat!peter work yall is making me [REDACTED] please go take a look!!

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara blurbs #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff

[teaboot]

As someone who learnt english as a second language via textbook, I have to say "flying by the seat of my pants" is a hilarious idiom xD

It's the first time I've seen/heard it.

Could you share another one you like using?

Idk about idioms specifically, but there's a bunch of phrases I learned from my mom!

Lord love a duck! (Incredulous, like 'oh my god')

Lord suffer in sheep dip! (Sheep dip meaning sheep poop. Incredulous, but for annoying things- like 'are you kidding me?')

Is there a piano tied to your ass? ('Don't be lazy, do it yourself')

Someone's cruising for a bruising. (You're picking a fight.)

I don't give a rat's rip. ('I don't care'- a rat's 'rip' is it's butt crack.)

Pull up a stump! (Get yourself a chair, sit down.)

Everybody out of the pool! (Get out of the car)

I'm flying by the seat of my pants. (I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm doing it.)

Don't go blowing smoke up my ass. (Don't over-compliment me, don't flatter me, don't stroke my ego, don't tell me positive lies)

Looks like it's gonna rain on our parade. (A storm is coming.)

Sorry to rain on your parade. (I've given you bad news- can be used sincerely or sarcastically to denote sympathy for incurring a bad mood.)

Better button that lip. (Stop talking.)

Someone's gonna stick a boot up your ass. ('Stick a boot up your ass'- fight you, beat you, kick your ass.)

Stick that lip out any further, and a pigeon'll shit on it. (Stop whining.)

Suck it up, buttercup. (Stop whining.)

Dumber than a fence post. (Very stupid.)

The back forty. (The wild or forested area behind a rural home. The 'forty' being forty acres, or farmland.)

Don't go begging for a fat lip. (Whatever you're saying or doing is going to bother people and get you in trouble.)

What on God's green earth (What the fuck)

I'm sweating like a pig in a porta-potty (like a pig in a plastic outhouse- I'm very warm, it's hot here)

He thinks the universe flew out of his ass. (He thinks he's more impressive than he is.)

Your mouth wrote a cheque your ass couldn't cash. (You promised more than you were capable of providing.)

You've got a horseshoe up your ass. (You're very, very lucky.)

Taking a dirt nap. (Dead.)

Pushing (up) daisies. (Dead.)

Give me forty acres to turn this rig around. (I need time and space to move this large, heavy, or unwieldy thing. Usually about navigating a vehicle. Taken from a song lyric.)

Jesus take the wheel. (God help me, I can't handle this, I give up.)

Gone belly-up. (Has died.)

We've got a floater. (This one is dead.)

Herding cats. (Trying to organize chaos, managing an impossibly complicated situation.)

I've got a black thumb. (I am bad at growing plants, all my plants die- reference to having a 'green thumb', or being good at growing plants.)

Stop trackin' floor cookies. (Floor cookies are bits of animal shit that fall off your work boots- 'tracking floor cookies' means wearing your boots in the house; take your shoes off at the door.)

Running around like a headless chicken. (Frantic, disorganized, stressed out by many tasks or panicked by a big situation.)

Spinning my wheels. (Waiting around for something to happen, getting nowhere, frustrated by inactivity, not making any progress towards a goal.)

He's gonna blow a gasket. (He's going to lose his temper, he's going to be angry.)

They'll tan your hide. (They'll punish you severely; usually through violence. Specifically in reference to a spanking.)

He's a few bricks short a load. (He's not clever / he doesn't think things through / he's crazy)

Not the sharpest tool in the shed. (Not the smartest person. Very dumb, clumsy, or absent-minded.)

I'm not going to bail you out. (Not going to save your sinking boat- not going to help you out of your bad situation.)

Looks like things are going south. (The situation is growing worse.)

I'll start making tracks. (I'll leave now, I'll start working, I'll get going.)

He's fucking the dog. (He's not being productive, he's doing a bad job, he's made things worse, he's screwing around.)

He's making puppies. (Less graphic version of 'fucking the dog'.)

Plant your ass. (Sit.)

Playing grab-ass. (Procrastinating- accomplishing nothing, slowing people down.)

He couldn't find his ass in the dark. (He's stupid, ineffective, underqualified, or incompetent.)

He couldn't pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel. (He is unbelievably, comically dumb or ineffective. He can't do anything right.)

One foot in the ground. (Dying, or half-dead.)

I'm kicking rocks. (I'm not doing anything productive.)

I'm hauling ass. (I'm running away.)

Madder than a wet hen. (Very, very angry.)

Like I said I'm not sure that these are all idioms but they're all the phrases and sayings from my childhood that I can remember right now

EDIT: Cannot BELIEVE I forgot my mom's favourite

52. Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets filled first. (Wishes don't come true by themselves)

Plus some more I forgot:

53. You make a better door than a window. (You're in the way of my view.)

54. You can take a long walk off a short pier. (Go fuck yourself.)

55. He's about as sharp as a bowling ball. (He's stupid.)

56. Scoot your poot. (Move over.)

57. Not my first rodeo. (I know what I'm doing.)

58. He's built like a brick shithouse. (He's broad and sturdy and very strong, solid.)

59. I smell bacon. (I saw a cop nearby.)

60. I don't want to hear a peep. (Stop talking.)

61. You're thinking with the wrong head. (You're making bad decisions because you're horny.)

62. I'd lose my ass/head if it wasn't tied on. (I'm very absent-minded, forgetful.)

63. That went down like a lead balloon. (That situation was bad.)

#Teaboot

[a-hazbin-reader]

I know Alastor craves Wifey’s attention, but does Wifey crave his attention in the same way?

🥴

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None?? I think???

Description: ☝️⬆️

Alastor loves having your attention but he loves it even more when you seek him out, he loves being needed by you

He tries to hide his giddiness though, he can't be caught grinning like a fool because his wife wants a hug from him

He has a reputation to uphold

He's in his radio tower and you suddenly sit yourself in his lap mid broadcast? He's wrapping an arm around you and kissing your head while you bury your face in his neck

He cuts out the broadcast for a moment to give you the proper attention, tilting your chin up so that you look at him

"Just a moment, folks! Hello darling, stressful day?"

His claws are scratching along the back of your neck, sending a pleasant tingle down your spine as you lean against him

"Mmn... just wanna be with you..."

Suddenly you're being squeezed tight, your face smashed into his neck so you don't see the heat rising to his face over how cute you are

Anyone who might've been listening would find the screams of the broadcast suddenly interrupted by sharp crackling radio static

He's trying to get out of bed and you whine that you want him to stay?? He's going to try his hardest and resist the urge to jump back in

That is until you wrap your arms around him and press your chest to his back, rubbing your cheek on his shoulder

"Just stay in bed...we could have a lazy day..."

Alastor has to rub a hand over his face to hide his blush, his smile tight from trying not to coo over you, giving you a small kiss

"You have to get up too, my dear~ Come on, I'll make breakfast."

He stands up only to feel you hanging off of him, legs wrapping around him with determination

"No. I stay with you."

"Fine then, I'm going to get started on our day."

"I'll be right here~"

A small bleat escapes him, actual steam coming out of his ears as he helps support your legs

"Darling please! What will everyone say?"

You just close your eyes and hum, resting your head against his back as he laughs at the absurdity of the situation

"Don't care. Going back to sleep..."

Nobody dares look at you two as Alastor walks about the hotel with you strapped to his back, they all do their best to pretend like it's not happening

Except Angel who laughs as soon as Alastor walks into the lobby with a mug of coffee in hand, ears down low as he tries to hide his embarrassment

"Ha! Whipped!"

There's been plenty of times where you've just come to him wanting his affection for a moment before scampering off

You've even interrupted overlord meetings because he left without giving you a goodbye kiss, you always found an excuse to get in

One time, you even showed up with trays of food, trailing behind Rosie and Zestial, who both helped you crash the meeting and carry food

Carmilla was visibly surprised at the sight of you, doing a double take and cautiously sniffing the air

"Y/N..? What is all this..?"

You don't miss the way your husband's cheeks light up as he tries to look as innocent as possible, realizing his mistake

"Alastor forgot his lunch and I just couldn't let all of you go hungry..! I hope you don't mind~"

You brought out the big guns with the food, and none of the overlords even make a fuss about you being there

You come around to your husband's chair, hearing him audibly gulp as you lean down to kiss his temple

"Hello again, my dear-"

"You forgot to kiss me goodbye, darling~ What's a girl supposed to think when her husband won't kiss her?"

You sound so pitiful and cute, he can't help but stand up to squeeze you into a proper hug before walking you out to try and preserve some of his image

"They're just so cute, aren't they? Young love and all that~"

"...they are."

"Aren't they both like-fucking old?"

"Eat your food."

It's already gone, Alastor

"Forgive me, my dear... I was in a hurry and didn't realize-"

He feels even worse when you wrap your arms around his neck and give him a sad face, resting against him

"You owe me...at least 12 kisses and not little ones!"

He's fumbling to find the words to say, using one hand to push away your kissy lips while he looks away from you

He knows he looks so whipped right now-he needs a moment to compose himself

Once he's able to look at you again, he knows it's all over, a soft blush on his face as you kiss his palm and stare at him

"Darling..."

"I just want some attention from my husband, is that so bad?"

He can't deny you anything, leaning in to give you a soft kiss and rubbing your cheek, you nearly kill him when he pulls away and sees your lovesick expression

"I'll be home soon, I promise. You'll get all of my time and attention after that, deal?"

You close your eyes and nuzzle against his hand, practically hugging his arm to keep him there

"Mm...making deals with a man like you is dangerous, what do you want in return?"

Alastor can't help but grin, pulling you in closer for another kiss and stopping just before your lips touch

"I've already got an adorable wife~ Buuuut~ If you're offering something then maybe we go out dancing later?"

He kisses you before you can answer, pressing his forehead to yours as he smiles at you

"It's a deal then~"

Reluctantly, he lets you walk away after giving you a few more kisses only to realize later that you got exactly what you wanted

When he walks back into the meeting, everyone's eyes are on him before they suddenly look down at their meals

"What?"

Carmilla coughs awkwardly and Rosie pushes a mirror towards Alastor, who discovers his face is covered in lipstick marks

He can't even bring himself to be mad, sighing fondly as he takes a napkin from Carmilla and wipes his face off

What is he going to do with you...

I hope you like this one!!

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

[solarmorrigan]

I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

-

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things post s2 AU #stranger things #this one is a bit long just as a heads up; about 4.6k #is it good? I dunno but I had fun writing it and you guys seem interested so here we go! #eddiesteve #solar wrote