#'set a reminder' yeah buddy I'm gonna have to set reminders to set the reminders at this rate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darryscrow · 2 months ago

Note

Hi hello how are you!

Point 1: OH MY GOODNESS!!! I'm a Darrel girl personally so *waves hands frantically* A DARRY BUDDY IN THE WILD

Point 2: If you're up to it could I possibly get more of the Darry Spiderman AU? I've decided it's my favorite thing ever

1) If you're a darry fan you're gonna love my account. I talk about him sm & repost a lot of stuff about him too!! 2) I'm glad you asked. Below are headcanons specific to each character in the gang!

Darrel Curtis Junior.

Darry had a side gig as a photographer at 18-19, taking pictures of villains and himself for J. Jonah Jameson. He used his father’s old prized camera.

Had an internship at Hoscorp for a year, from 17 to 18, until dropping it to do spider-man more often.

His life at school was basically the same as it had been in OG outsiders back in Tulsa. He’s popular, football captain and ‘in’ with the rich kids. He toes the lines with the rich kids, still being from the poor side of the city and more caring than they are.

He’s more nerdy in this au, being into science a lot more than I think OG Darry was. He’s not outwardly nerdy though, but sometimes his interest in science comes out and he gets teased and made fun of.

Ever since his parents died, he keeps their apartment locked. There’s a spare key hidden for the gang to come and go as they please, (maybe set up something with their fire escape?) as he still wants them to have a place to lie low, despite his paranoia of someone breaking in again.

Whenever he gets really mad, from a fight with his brothers or an overall bad day, he goes out as spider-man so he can throw some punches around and blow off the steam.

Ponyboy Michael Curtis.

Ponyboy picks up the photography gig in The Daily Bugle that Darry left behind, having quite the knack for taking photos. Sometimes he messes with the drafts about spider-man when he walks around the office because he hates their takes on his older brother.

Has almost walked right into traffic more than anyone can count, he’d be pulled back sharply and look up from his shoes to see a car zoom past where he almost stepped to. It leaves everyone’s hearts drumming.

After the accident, Pony hates getting into cramped spaces, getting reminded of hiding in the closet. He feels like something bad is about to happen.

Asks Darry all about the villains he fights & his suit and everything. Darry is actually very excited to show off his smarts when it comes to designing his suit and fighting his enemies. Pony keeps a journal and writes down everything he knows, so he can help Darry if he ever forgets (he wouldn’t)

Sodapop Patrick Curtis.

Asks Darry to swing him around the city after finding out he’s spider-man.

Actually pretty apprehensive of Darry being spider-man, even if he doesn’t do it often, the times he does, it’s extreme scenarios. He’d hear about a bomb or something on the station’s radio and bite his nails down worrying about if Darry went to it or not.

Works at a DX (yeah it's still DX don’t care) station pretty far from their house so he has to get up as early as Darry for work.

Always, ALWAYS waits up until Darry comes back after a night patrol as spider-man with a first aid kit ready.

Eventually got his own police radio that Dallas stole for him, and listens to it while at work in case he hears “spider-man” on it. When he does, he runs to the scene if it's close enough, and Steve covers his ass for skipping work.

Johnny Cade.

He hangs around the Curtis house the most.

Found a friendly sheep dog stray and it follows him everywhere. It eats about everything so it’s the gang's compost bin!

Was the first to go against the newspapers calling spider-man a danger. He felt vindicated when they found out it was Darry.

INCAPABLE of lying. Would be Darry’s worst nightmare if he were ever to get in contact with a spider-man enemy. His face always gives away when he’s lying.

Has low blood sugar.

Talks with Cherry outside of school, Ponyboy nearly killed him when he found out, as he wanted to be friends with her ever since he found out she wasn’t just a one dimensional rich kid.

Found Darry’s spider-man journal with suit designs, and actually helps him with adding new tech to it. Smart tech-y boy.

Has put on Darry’s suit before to imagine himself as spider-man, but that suit is built for a 6 feet 2 muscular man. It slipped right off.

Dallas Tucker Winston.

Has OCA1 albinism! I think I’ve seen this headcanon somewhere once and knew I had to add it to this au.

Night person. He prefers going out at night but would hang around outside at day if tempted to by anything.

Has actually fought with spider-man before, he did a job for the Tombstone once and never again because Darry stopped him. After finding out that Darry’s spider-man, he realized maybe he shouldn’t be as buddy buddy with the crooks he knows, in case it puts him or the gang in danger for simply being close with spider-man.

Originally from Tulsa (switcheroo) but he’s basically the same.

Keith “Two-bit” Mathews.

The closest to Darry like I imagine in canon, and the closest thing that Darry has to a support system as he’s the oldest in the gang.

Is the one who tells him to be the spider-man the most, as Darry had helped out a lot of people Two-bit actually knows, and he knows what a positive impact spider-man makes, despite his image as a menace to society.

Darry always brushes off his begs to be spider-man, telling him that he needs to work and get money as they’re always behind on some bills. Two-bit tries to earn money at some point to help out, but he does everything but get a job so it doesn’t quite work out.

Steve Randle.

Moved to NYC a little earlier than Dallas, they had known each other back in Tulsa and were pretty close.

Has a sweet car he had saved up months for & fixed up from a bad condition.

Rides Sodapop to and from work a lot, even if it gets him late for school when he does.

Covers Sodapop shifts A LOT.

Asks Darry the stupidest questions after finding out he’s spider-man. “Do you lay eggs?�� “Do you see everyone as ants from above?” “Do you have eight eyes?” Darry always fucks with him when he replies.

Belinda "Scout" Jenkins.

Moved to New York from Poland in 19, her English is very rough.

Babied by the whole gang, but she throws a fit every time because “she’s 13 and a teenager!”

Scout and Ace are very close for being the only girls in the gang.

Ace.

Sees Scout as a little sister, Steve as an older brother.

Also close with Dallas and Steve from back in Tulsa, moved to New York a few years after Dallas.

She and Two-bit run into a lot of mischief together, shoplifting, talking too much and causing havoc anywhere they go together.

HAS stolen clothes from the gang and cut or sewn them to make them more her style. The only time she got in trouble for it was when she took one of Darry’s fancier shirts (from Paul).

24 notes · View notes

imsodishy · 6 months ago

Text

Take a Step That is New

another episode of Four's Company (a series on ao3)

this episode filmed in front of a live studio audience

May 1987

The cheery chimes above the door at Dot's Dinner ting-a-ling as Steve walks in and he almost throws his stupid briefcase at it. He settles at the last minute for telling it to, “Shut the hell up,” and heads for the counter.

“Whoa, buddy, rough day?” Robin's already saddled up on a stool, Billy’s just serving up her burger and onion rings.

The boxy fan they’ve set up on the counter does nothing to dispel the muggy heat that’s settled over the city, just moves the humid air around. It also does nothing to improve Steve’s mood, sweltering in his stupid suit, he yanks at his tie until he can breathe again.

Steve claims the stool next to Robin, peels off his stuffy jacket and slams it down on the teal formica counter top with zero thought for whatever grease or condiments it might find there, then he plonks his head down next to it without acknowledging Robin, and groans like a dying seal, “I hate my fucking life.”

It’s not true, Steve likes his life. Mostly.

What he fucking hates is his job. Which makes up… some way too big percentage of his life; 9 to 5, Monday to Friday is a big chunk of the week. The heat doesn’t help.

Robin pat-pats his shoulder consolingly. He hears Billy huff at his dramatics before walking away from the sad spectacle of Steve’s life. Off in the corner Seymour, a grumpy old regular who basically lives at his booth, frowns. He’s always frowning at something though. Mostly at Steve, though not exclusively. Eddie earns his fair share of stink-eye.

Robin's hand is still on Steve’s shoulder when he can sense her lean in closer and– “Don't fucking sniff me, dude!” He snaps upright, leaning as far away from her as he can without toppling off the stool. “It's so weird.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” she says, “You seem stressed is all, and I was just checking you didn’t go crawling back to sweet lady nicotine's disgusting embrace.”

Robin’s been rabid lately on her bid to get all three of them to quit smoking. It started with a not in the house rule, and has quickly progressed to all out war on the cancer sticks. Steve's the only one who's buckled so far. He's on an almost two month streak right now, and she's been playing hard defense to keep him on it. He draws the line at the sniffing though. That is simply unacceptable.

Steve rolls his eyes, and grumbles, “I didn’t smoke,” God, he could really go for one right now though, “If I bring a lighter to work I’ll end up burning the building down.”

A strawberry milkshake clonks down on the counter in front of him as Billy basically drops it like a bomb, “Oh my God. Quit! Just quit your stupid fucking job that you hate!” he explodes, “I cannot listen to your sad-sack, bitch-baby, whining about it anymore.“

Steve pulls his milkshake in close just in case Billy tries to confiscate it for bitch-baby behavior. “I can’t just quit,” he whines.

Billy just rolls his eyes and doesn’t try to take Steve’s one joy away from him. “Why? Because your Dad got it for you?”

And like, yeah, but Billy doesn’t have to be such a dickhead about it.

Billy landed his job at Dot’s Diner like some kind of magic. Seriously, their first day in New York, they hadn’t even unpacked any of the boxes they'd schlepped into the house when Billy dusted off his hands and said, “I'm gonna get the lay of the land,” and walked out the front door.

He came back six hours later with a job and a peanut butter milkshake. It took him a month after that to tell them where he worked, and he tells them frequently that he's regretted it everyday since he caved. They do spend a lot of time there bothering him, despite the fact he refuses to give them freebies. His boss, Sal (who reminds Steve a lot of Benny from the diner back home, if he had about two dozen extra tattoos, like they both rolled off a big, gruff, diner proprietor assembly line somewhere), is actually way more likely to sling them a free coke or some fries once in a while.

“We could find you another job,” Robin says, as she’s been saying for months, “One that makes you at least sixty percent less arson-y, guaranteed!”

Robin got her job at the campus bookstore through student services, (obviously not an option for Steve), although, with the first year under her belt, she's talking about looking elsewhere for employment, since the school pays them peanuts anyway, and she thinks she'll be able to balance her schedule better now on her own.

The door chimes jangle crazily as Eddie bursts into the diner, “Outstanding news chums!” he booms, ignoring Seymour scowling in his direction.

“Easy on the door, Munson,” Billy warns.

Eddie shuts the door with exaggerated care, before he hustles over to the counter and hops up on the stool on Robins other side. He gives himself a drumroll, rattling all the flatware on the counter. Old Seymour’s glare intensifies.

“I have news,” he repeats, flipping his cup right-side-up for Billy to fill with coffee he doesn’t need, upcoming nightshift at the bar or no.

Robin takes a guess, “You talked to you boss about getting the time off for the Hawkins trip?” she doesn’t sound that hopeful.

And for good reason. “What? No,” Eddie dismisses her with a flapping hand, “I have an audition with a band!”

“Gasp,” Robin says flatly. The only news Eddie gets this excited about is when he's auditioning, or sitting in, or has a lead on some new band seeking a guitarist.

Eddie, by his own account, got his so-called day job (it’s nights, bar-backing) by just hanging around the bar/music venue he frequents all the time, bothering the bartenders (and selling them weed) until one of them slapped a rag in his hand and told him to make himself useful. Which suits him just fine to fill time while he chases his music dream.

“Look, I'm going to Hawkins either way,” Eddie tells her with a carefree shrug, “If Rosco won't give me the time off I'll just quit and get a new job when we get back.”

“See!” Billy says, slamming the coffee pot back into it's cradle, “You see how easy that is, Harrington? You lose a job, then you get another one. C'est la fucking vie.”

Eddie leans around Robin to look at Steve, “Oh-ho. Did the little Lord Harrington finally break free from the yuppie rat race?”

“No,” Steve says, and slurps a big sip of his milkshake.

Steve didn’t get his own job at all, obviously. It was already lined up for him before they even rented the moving truck. It came pre-approved for him courtesy of his father and his father’s business connections. Steve's been working there for almost a year now, but he's still not entirely clear what they do.

It's real-estate... kind of? The company buys properties, but they do it by selling shares in the properties to other companies, then they use that money to pay construction companies to tear down those properties and build new ones on the land. Those construction companies use that money to buy steel and other building shit from Steve’s dad’s plants back in Indiana (and Michigan). Then Steve's bosses sell the whole shebang for several butt-loads of money for them and their investors to start the game all over again.

Steve’s job largely seems to involve standing around, insuring their side of the boardroom has the most men in suits at all times, and occasionally kissing investor ass. He’s a Junior Account Associate somehow.

It’s soul crushing.

“Aw, cheer up, Stevie,” Eddie says, slapping him on the back, “Look on the bright side, at least you can always keep our beer fridge stocked with that fat paycheck of yours.”

Robin does Steve the favor of smacking Eddie upside the head.

Steve decides to change the subject, “What’s the band called, Ed?” he asks, because that’s always good for a laugh at least.

Eddie holds his hands in front of his face like he's framing a marquee, “ God of Gore ,” he announces in a theatrical growl.

Steve snorts to himself. Yeah, that’s good shit.

“And,” he goes on, voice rising in pitch as he gets more hyped up, “Get this, their last guitarist up and moved to Indiana! How's that for kismet? It's fate, I tells ya!”

“Who would willingly move to Indiana,” Billy wonders, “The whole state's a toilet.”

Not at all bothered by the shit talking of their home state, Eddie hops down of his stool and announces, “Speaking of which, gotta drain the snake.”

While Robin is busy grimacing at that, Eddie wiggles incredibly unsubtle eyebrows at Billy. He gets a, much more subtle, jerk of the chin back, so Eddie slips right past the bathrooms and into the kitchen, and doubtless out the back door to smoke in peace, away from Robin’s judgmental gaze. He’s made vague, placating noises at her about cutting back, but he’s just been sneaking around behind her back, with Billy as an accomplice.

Billy might be smoking more out of spite.

Eddie's whirlwind act really made Steve feel like the sad-sack Billy accused him of being, and he’s sick of that feeling, gets more than enough of it everyday at work.

All the silverware rattles as he slams a decisive hand down on the counter, much to Seymour’s ire. “You know what I think would make me feel better?” Steve asks loudly and rhetorically.

He shoves away from the counter and heads straight for the jukebox.

“No!” Billy booms, pointing at Steve like he’s a cat on the counter.

Steve backs slowly down the aisle, facing Billy the whole way with big, guileless eyes. “What's that?”

“You’re still banned for Bryan Adams crimes.” Honestly, Steve’s probably got a couple bans stacked at the moment. Billy doles them out liberally.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hargrove,” Steve bumps into the jukebox because he still won’t turn away from Billy’s impotent glare. It's great, his ears are going red.

“I call the shots here,” he tries, fruitlessly.

“No you don‘t, Sal does,” Steve snorts, “And, anyway, I am a private citizen, this is a free country! My dime is as good as anybody’s!” He's been spending too much time with Eddie.

Billy throws a spoon at him.

Steve cackles as he plugs the jukebox. There’s a couple beats of bassy synthesizer.

Billy tells him, “You’re a monster,” with feeling.

Then— “ Watching every motion in my foolish lover’s game.”

Steve slow dances back towards the counter, swaying to the dreamy beat of the bum-bum-bum-bubums, high on the joy of being deeply annoying. He slides back onto his stool just in time to dramatically sing along to, “ Take my breath awaaaaay,” right in Billy’s face. It's gone all red now, like the cherry on Steve's shake, which he happily pops between his grinning teeth.

“It’s not my fault Sal won’t put Mötley Crüe in there,” Steve says, munching happily on his cherry.

Billy storms off into the kitchen.

“Someday,” Robin muses through he mouthful of fried onions, “he’s going to feed you a floor burger, and I’m not going to stop him. This song is sincerely awful.”

“I like it,” Steve declares.

“Of course you do.” Robin pats his hand condescendingly.

She swivels on her stool to face him, a concerned little furrow in her brow, and ketchup on her cheek. “Seriously though, Steve, we could find you a different job. No problem. You got the job at Family Video, and Scoops before that.” Robin got him the job at Family Video, and he only got the job at Scoops because the first guy they hired showed up to the training stoned, but it’s nice of her to say. “You don’t need to stick it out because of your dad, you don’t need his help. It’s not your only option or whatever bullshit you’re worried about. You can get a different job. And, okay, no it wouldn’t pay as much, but you'd get by.”

Robin wasn’t Steve’s first real friend or anything like that, he wouldn’t even say she’s his first good friend . But she’s definitely his best friend. Steve lays a hand over her slightly greasy one on the counter, and furrows his brow right back at her, “But then, Robin, who would keep the beer fridge stocked?”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to her burger, “So we'd have to bid goodbye to Daddy Beer-bucks, we'd survive.”

They would. Robin, Billy, and Eddie are resourceful, and smart, and self-sufficient, they’d figure out a way get by, even with Steve hanging like an anchor around their necks. But Steve hates the idea of dragging them down. Actually can’t stand it. He literally gets a stomach ache if he thinks too hard about it. When he can hear future Robin, somewhere down the line, when she’s sick of his shit, saying You can’t expect us to handle every little issue for you, dingus, in his head, except sometimes the ‘dingus’ morphs into ‘darling’ and imaginary-Robin sounds disturbingly like his mother (which doesn’t help the stomach ache problem at all). So he needs to keep bringing in enough money to pay his way.

Steve just smiles at her.

Billy reemerges from the kitchen to make a round of his tables, giving Steve the evil eye as he goes, before settling behind the counter to concentrate on glaring at Steve despite the fact that the song is long over by now, Eddie Money is playing now. Steve raises his eyebrows at his glare, “Don’t look at me, I’m all out of dimes.”

Robin, perhaps prompted by Mr. Money asks, “Where'd Eddie go? He’s taking forever in there.”

Billy silently points over her shoulder to where they can clearly see Eddie’s hunched form cowering miserably under the diner's awning from the unpleasantly warm rain that’s finally broken after threatening all day. He’s sucking down smoke like his life depends on it. Must not have been enough shelter in the alley when the rain started.

“No!” Robin shouts, much like Billy had shouted at Steve earlier, and dashes out the door, bells cheerfully chiming her exit. Eddie takes a couple more panicked puffs before Robin gets to him and he has to start playing keep away with the butt.

Steve watches them through the window for a couple seconds like a real life version of those weird old puppet shows, “What are those puppets that–“

“Punch and Judy,” Billy answers the unfinished question.

He flicks a dime that bounces off Steve's forehead and drops to the counter with a ring-a-ting-ting. “Go put on some Springsteen, Bambi,” he says, smiling at him like he’s still a sad-sack, sure, but at least he’s one Billy’s kinda fond of, then he goes to top off Seymour’s coffee down at the far end of the other end of the diner.

For Billy alone, Seymour’s got a great big smile.

Steve has stapled his tie to his desk. Which seems like the kind of thing most people would only do by accident. Not Steve, though. No, he simply got so bored that when the thought, I wonder if I could staple my tie to this desk right now, breezed through his head he went ahead and did it.

Turns out he could, so he added a couple more staples for no better reason than the first one.

Steve feels like his brain is melting out his ears which is maybe half boredom, half the heat. The AC has been in and out all week, something about the grid according to maintenance. Turns out a cracked window and a fan isn’t any more effective on the 10th floor of a Manhattan office building than it is in a ground level diner in the Bronx.

“Harrington.” All the staples explode off his tie, flying all over his little hot-box of an office, when he jerks upright as Connor Michaels walks in to his office. The guy definitely notices the staples too, judging by the shitty little smirk on his face.

The thing about all of Steve’s coworkers is that they hate him, because he’s clearly just a doofus nepotism hire who has no business working here. They all hide it behind a veneer of polite condescension while trying to use him as a connection since his last name is Harrington, though. It’s all so pathetically exactly like high school Steve can hardly stand it.

Connor chuckles, “Tgif, am I right? Listen, I asked Laura to pull the permits for the Hell’s Kitchen property for me, but she’s on the rag or something and flipped out at me.”

The other thing about Steve’s coworkers is that they’re all douchebags.

“Okay,” Steve says to avoid stapling his smug face.

“I know she does shit like that for you all the time, so think you could work your magic?” Connor wiggles his fingers vaguely that reminds Steve of how his mom would talk about his sport’s things any time it came up.

Laura is the only exception to the douchebag rule. She’s smart, and competent, and the only woman at Steve’s level of management. She also hates Steve, but she doesn't try to hide it. She’s got integrity about it. The only reason she helps Steve with things like permits and filings is that she knows she’s the one who will have to clean up the mess if he royally screws it. She reminds him a lot of Robin in the early days of working at Scoops, just completely unimpressed by and uninterested in his King Steve bullshit.

Steve does frequently throw himself on her mercy, she’s the only reason he hasn’t caused any serious problems so far. Which is maybe the other reason she keeps helping him, because he unreservedly admits that it’s a joke that they’re on the same level professionally. And not a funny one.

Steve starts sweeping the staples that landed on his desk and not the floor into a pile, “Sure,” he says to Connor, hoping that’ll get him to leave.

No luck. Instead he tucks his hand in his pockets and settles into a slouches against Steve’s wall, “How do you manage that anyway?” he asks lightly, “You tapping that?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “No.”

Connor hums, “Yeah, not surprising. I bet she’s a dyke.”

And maybe, on a different day, when Steve wasn’t already at his boiling point both figuratively and literally, he would have responded more... diplomatically.

“I quit my job,” Steve announces as he walks through the front door of his house.

All three of his roommates turn to gape at him from the living room.

They were all lounging around in the bare minimum of clothes required for the living room with two opposing fans pointed at them in an attempt at a cross breeze when Steve arrived home with his briefcase in a cardboard box with shockingly little else in the way of personal effects in it. He really hadn’t built up much of a presence at the office over the nearly a year he worked there.

“What?” Robin exclaims, as she mutes the TV, “What happened?”

“I threw a stapler at a guy’s head.” Steve answers.

“A stapler?” Billy asks, baffled, “Why?”

Steve shrugs, “I don’t know. I mean, I also said a lot of shit, but the stapler was probably the button on it.” Steve drops his things, steps out of his wingtips, and starts tugging at his tie as he makes his way across the room, “It wasn’t even- Like, I mean, it was business as usual, really. It wasn’t anything new, and I just... lost it.” He’s down to his undershirt and boxershorts by the time he collapses between Robin and Billy on the couch with a massive sigh like a slowly deflating raft.

“Right on man,” Eddie says from his spot on the armchair, leaning over to slap Steve’s knee, “I bet that guy had a stapler to the face coming.”

He really did, Steve must concede.

“Shit, I can’t believe I quit.”

Robin makes a questioning noise, “Did you actually quit, or did they fire you? For the stapler thing?”

“Who gives shit,” Billy says before Steve can tell them he’s not actually sure technically, “It’s done and dusted either way. Which calls for a celebration!”

Billy bounces up off the couch and goes to the kitchen to collect a round of beers for everyone, he’s the only one who’s foregone a shirt so far, which is unsurprising. He pops the caps of with his ring before doling out the bottles.

“To casting off the corporate shackles!” Eddie toasts, Billy and Robin here-hereing it.

Steve takes a big gulp of his beer. “What the hell am I gonna do?” he wonders aloud.

“Celebrate!” Robin says, she’s also in a t-shirt and boxershorts, which she stole from Steve a while back for loungewear, “Like the man said.”

Steve huffs, “I meant like, longer term. The rent and stuff.”

“Don't worry, Stevie my boy,” Eddie says, clapping him on the back, “Once we find you a real person job you'll do just fine. After all, the rest of us plebs cover our fair shares with our piddly little paychecks, right?”

Steve, caught out, hesitates a beat too long (long enough for Billy's bullshit radar to ping), before saying, “Right. Sure. Yeah,” in a way that clearly doesn’t cover for him.

Billy squints at him, “We have all been covering our fair share of the rent, right, Harrington?”

Steve nods but he can’t maintain eye contact when he answers, “Right. Fair shares.”

Robin, catching on immediately, groans, “Oh god, Steve, tell me you haven’t been doing something outstandingly stupid, like paying half the rent, this whole freaking time.” When Steve doesn’t answer right away she screeches, “Steven!”

“Not half! I haven’t, okay?” he rushes to explain, “Just, like,” he holds up his fingers pinched so close together, “A little more, than you guys.”

“How much more,” Billy demands through clenched teeth.

“Well,” Steve tries to think of how best to phrase it, “Imagine we had a fifth roommate, who's rent I have also been paying.”

“So, double,” Billy’s basically growling now, “You've been paying double what the rest of us have. This whole goddamn time!” Steve hadn’t thought of it that way, but the math does check out. He thinks.

“And... also the utilities,” he admits reluctantly.

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie says, shaking his head sadly.

“Fuck!” Billy shouts and storms off, stomping his way upstairs without anyone trying to stop him. When Billy removes himself from a situation, it’s best to let him.

“I can probably still get the job back,” Steve offers, even though the thought makes him nauseous. He’ll eat shit if he needs to, “If I tell them I was on coke or something they might actually respect me more.”

Eddie’s still shaking his head, but more decisively, “No way, man. We’re not letting you go crawling back to those corporate shitbags now, not a chance in hell.”

“No other job I can get for myself is going to pay a quarter as well, though.”

Robin backs Eddie up though, “You were miserable, Steve. None of us wants you to be miserable like that, not for any amount of money.”

Steve still can’t just let it go, though, “But without that money-

“There’s no need to panic, all we need is a plan. You’ve got savings, yeah? That’ll give us a cushion until you get a new job- we need to do a comprehensive household budget,” Robin says, like she’s already running numbers in her head, “We’ve been way too loosey-goosey about it, anyway.” Because they’ve been relying on Steve to smooth over any gaps. Not that they necessarily knew that. They’d just hit him up for beer and pizza sometimes and called it a Shill tax.

“I don’t know how to do a budget,” Steve admits with an apologetic grimace.

Eddie slings an arm over his shoulders and tries to pull him into some kind of wonky headlock while Steve resists him easily, “Don’t you fret, for you are a very lucky boy, with three wonderful roommates, whose collars are all extremely blue. We’ll show you the ropes.”

“You know what the easiest expense to cut is?” Robin says brightly, “Cigarettes.”

“You know what!” Eddie wheels on her, suddenly apparently at his limit on the whole smoking thing.

Steve watches them bicker back and forth for a couple minutes. Even though it’s clear that this has been building for a while, and of course the inescapable heat doesn’t help, Steve can’t help but feel like it’s his fault for dropping a stress bomb on their heads. Or at least it feels very reminiscent of watching his parents fight about the wallpaper when what they really want to fight about is their miserable marriage. What’s the word for that? Displacement?

Eventually he slips out, leaving Robin and Eddie to their squabbles he can’t really contribute to one way or the other and heads upstairs.

Billy's not in his room, but Steve didn’t really expect him to be.

Halfway up the flight of stairs from the second floor to the third there's a window, and outside the window is a strip of roof, about five feet wide by ten feet long, and gently sloped, covering their porch below. Billy likes to sulk out there, especially since the weather turned, though not quite so much since it turned mean.

Sure enough, the window is ajar and Steve can smell smoke.

He sticks his hands out the window, palms out, he comes in peace, “I’m coming out,” he says, “Please don’t hurl me off the roof.”

Billy doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t bite Steve’s head off either, which from him is basically an engraved invitation.

Steve hauls himself up onto the little stretch of roof, crab walking over ‘til he can plant his butt next to Billy. Even though the sun is sinking fast the heat hasn’t broken at all.

He snags the cigarette right out of Billy’s mouth as he settles next to him and takes a long, indulgent drag. He only grimaces a little at the taste, Billy and his fucking Marlboros.

“Ooooh,” Billy deigns to speak to him, snatching his smoke back, “Robin's gonna be mad at you,”

“More or less mad than when I tell her I'm not going to Hawkins this summer?”

Billy's hand freezes with the cigarette just about back to his mouth. His lips, already parted to accept it, now just hanging slack pointlessly. “Seriously?”

Steve shrugs, shooting for nonchalance, missing by a mile probably. “Figure I can do without getting the full rundown on what an embarrassing disappointment I am in person. I’m sure I’ll get the CliffsNotes from our answering machine anyway. Those were always more my speed.”

He figures they'll share a laugh at that, but when he looks over Billy's not laughing. In fact, he's not even smiling, he just takes a rough drag off the cigarette and then hands it back to Steve without prompting. “If your dad leaves any blowhard message on our machine, I’m deleting them.”

Steve’s not sure what to say to that so for a while they just pass the butt back and forth in silence until he screws up his courage to ask, "What about you? You mad at me?” with a wince, “About the rent thing.”

“Well I’m not fucking thrilled about it, Harrington.”

Yeah, that was obvious.

Billy runs an agitated hand through his hair leaving his curls, already frizzy from the humidity, even more messed up. “Thought- it felt like we were making it. Doing it for real, you know? Standing on my own two feet like a man,” he scoffs to himself, “ Stupid.”

Billy’s got a very specific tone he does when he’s quoting his dad, and Steve fucking hates it.

“You are,” Steve insists. Billy quirks an eyebrow at him, and Steve scrambles to clarify, “Making it. Not stupid. You’re making it.”

“Not without a heaping helping of charity apparently. I can’t-”

“It wasn’t charity, dickhead!” Billy’s mouth snaps shut, and thank god for that, because Steve has no more interest in hearing what Neil Hargrove would have to say about his son than Billy does in suffering through phone messages from Richard Harrington. “It just made sense. I took that stupid job from my dad, and the paycheck was the only good goddamn thing about it. And you guys have all this other stuff going on. You and Robin have school, and Eddie’s trying to do his whole music thing. I mean, what the hell else was I supposed to do with all that stupidly easy money I was barely really earning? Other than use it to buy you guys food, and beer, and, yeah, pay the fucking rent!” He’s worked up a good head of steam, but he deflates immediately in the wake of his outburst, “I mean, what the hell else am I bringing to the table here?”

Suddenly self-conscious in the silence that follows, and way too aware that he’s breathing a little heavy, Steve snatches the cigarette from Billy’s hand. Takes a huffy little puff, like someone who doesn’t know how to inhale, then takes a slower, more measured one.

“You sell yourself short, you know,” Billy says, uncharacteristically quiet. Steve looks over at him, but Billy's not looking back, he's gazing out across their neighborhood instead.

“Look,” he goes on, slow and awkward, “I don’t exactly know where I'd be right now, if not for you. But, I know I wouldn’t be here .” He throws his arms out wide to encompass all of New York City, and their whole life here.

It's not like they have a spectacular view or anything, they're not up remotely high enough for that. Their sagging little strip of roof, on their rundown building, isn’t even facing the glittering Manhattan skyline. Down below them a taxi driver is shouting at a truck that’s blocking a cross street. The humidity is oppressive and the heat makes the streets stink like garbage, and it’s not like it’s any cooler in the house.

Their whole life here? It doesn’t actually look like very much from the outside.

Steve gets it though.

He jostles their shoulders together, “You would have gotten out. You would have made it anyway.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Billy plucks the cigarette out of Steve’s grasp, kills the last of it and pitches the butt to the street below. Steve watches the glowing trail of the cherry as it falls.

“You know,” Billy says after a long stretch of mostly comfortable silence, “If you don’t go to Hawkins, you’re gonna have to let Eddie drive the beemer.”

“Shit, I didn’t think of that.” He waves off the thought, “Can’t be helped. I need to start the job search anyway.”

Steve thinks about that process for all of thirty seconds before he groans, “Man, my resume is gonna be so fucking weird.” Steve lists his employment record out on his fingers, “Scoops Ahoy, burned down. Family Video... I don’t think I gave notice at Family Video, I think I just left and didn’t come back. Kensington Group Limited, assaulted a co-worker with stationary.”

“Well, if all else fails, you know Eddie would love to fake some references for you,” Billy says, “Bet he’ll do voices and everything.”

“Just what I need. A reference from Gondelf.”

Billy snorts a laughs, “It’s Gandalf, you know it’s Gandalf.” He’s right, Steve knows that, because Eddie never shuts up about that book.

“Mmm, pretty sure it’s Gondelf. I mean, he’s an elf, right?” Billy just rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, and listing a little towards Steve.

“Billy,” Steve speaks softly, earnestly. Billy hums back a question, “Would you... get me a job at the diner?”

Billy explodes with laughter, “Fuck no!”

“C’mon,” he wheedles, through his own laughter, “We can commute together! Sal loves you. Be a pal, put in a good word for me!”

Billy punches him in the shoulder, “Sure, I’ll tell him you’re a chronic masturbator and that I’ve never seen you wash your hands.”

“Thanks, buddy. I really appreciate that.”

Billy grabs the shoulder of Steve’s shirt and rattles him around a bit like a dog with a squeaky toy, “I’m going to shove you off this roof,” he threatens through laughter.

They lapse into giggly silence and then just silent silence. Billy keeps his grip on Steve’s shirt like he’s worried he might actually go toppling over the edge after all if Billy doesn’t keep a tight hold.

Or maybe he’s just forgotten that his hand is there.

“Hey,” Steve says after a while, just to get Billy to look him in the eye, “We’re gonna be fine,” he reassures him once he has.

Billy’s undivided attention is always intense, eyes like blue lasers locked on to a target. It used to freak Steve out in high school, but he’s gotten used to it. It’s just how Billy is. Sharp like that.

Sharp enough that he reads Steve like a goddamn book and knows that as much as Steve really was trying to reassure him, he was also, maybe just a bit, fishing for reassurance too.

“We’re gonna be fine,” Billy parrots.

They stare at each other, probably for too long, sitting in a little loop of comforting and being comforted. And Steve, he believes it. They’re gonna be fine.

They have each other.

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #robin buckley #eddie munson #harringrove #(pre harringrove really but ya know)#more cross-posting #dishy writes #four's company #fic

42 notes · View notes

curvykittyyssmutfics · 1 year ago

Note

Oh what about a cheating smut fic where tony is married to pepper and he starts to have a sexual affair towards his daughter morgan's hot babysitter, reader

Babygirl

Friday, 4pm

I check the time on my dainty Cartier watch, walkin in circles around my squad as I zero in on every move, every flip, and every damn high kick. They're phenomal as ever, still I need to make sure we're on point for the next game. Squatting low, I assess how one of my girls back up and shows that flexibility by bending backwards with palms outstretched to the ground. She ends the number with a smooth sensual backflip into the splits, ofcourse poppin each ass cheek individually. I cheer and ofcourse give my girl, along with the crew, a standin ovation.

"Excellent muthafukin job per usual, owwwww!" I mimick my bitch Cardi and I clap for my amazing team.

My cell rings from the bleachers a few feet away. Im tired, plus that might be Mr. Stark and I know better than to ignore; it's definitely time to call it a day.

"Listen up my beautiful people, we done for the day. But, side note, please don't forget to team up with your cheer buddy as many times as needed before the game to make sure each of you got the routine down pact. If you have any questions, hit my line. Aight y'all."

A few hugs goodbye and smacks to my rear, I'm able to grab my phone and check my missed calls. Fuck.. The butterflies in my tummy are instantaneous as I read 'Tony Stark' across my screen. No matter how many times he calls it never fails to make me wanna squeal and do a few back flips of my own.

I hit the send button and redial him as I chew on my bottom lip nervously. It only does half a ring before his sexy voice speaks through the phone.

"Hey, there's my other favorite girl. Where are you? You busy?"

It's just like Tony to be all in my business, even though he was my employer, not father. There wasn't a thing he didn't know about me after being Morgan's babysitter for over 3 years now.

"Why no, Daddy, I'm not busy." I tease him with a giggle. "I'm at uni right now. Just finished practice. Why, wassup?"

The silence lastin just a second too long before he clears his throat and answers.

"You uh.. Just finished cheer practice?" He repeats slowly.

"Yeah, literally just a second ago. Gonna change and head home. Why, you need me?" I ask concerned.

"I do honey, need you to come watch Morgan for the weekend. Peppers outta town for business and I'll be here but not here. You available for me pretty girl?"

The way he speaks to makes my heart wanna dive out my damn chest, especially when his wife's not around. His already pampering nature amplifies he and doesn't seem to able to resist calling me those sweet lil nicknames that make me weak in the knees.

"Yes Mr. Stark. Always, anything for you." I breathe back, thighs clenching at the way the tone of his voice is starting to get me aroused.

"Perfect. And call me Tony, you know better honey." He gently scolds. "Anyway, I'm sending a car to come get you immediately."

I hear him snap his fingers over the phone and assume that's his way of sending me a ride.

"But I'll need to go home and grab a some things to stay for a few days." I remind him.

"No. I want you here as soon as possible. I already have someone on their way to you." His response leaves no room for argument, so I don't even bother.

"Ok then, catch you inna minute. And tell Morgan I can wait to see her."

"You got it babygirl. See you soon."

I hang up, grabbing my Nike backpack and head to the pick up area in front of the school. Fuck, another weekend with Tony Stark. Let's see how long it takes before I drench my panties when I get in his presence this time.

45 mins later

I arrive to Tony's mansion relieved to finally get to see my 2 favorite people in the world. They're waiting for me at the front door with big smiles, Tony holding Morgan on his back. She lightly kicks outwards to get free from her father. He happily sets her down and she runs up to me excitedly wearing the cutest ladybug bathing suit. Wrapping her tiny arms around my waist, she hugs me affectionately. I bend and hug her back just as tight and tell her how happy I am to see her.

"Daddy says your staying all weekend, is that true?" She inquires, nose scrunched making her the spitting image of her father.

"Yes, I am. Us girls are gonna have a blast. I was thinking tomorrow I could paint your nails and then maybe you could paint mine? I'd love your help picking out a cute color, what do ya think?"

"Let's just go get a manicure." She rebuttals smartly, taking my hand and dragging me to the front door. I barely have a second to grab my backpack!

"Or there's that." I laugh and wave goodbye to Tony's driver as Morgan pulls me past her father to the pool.

"Guess Daddy will catch you guys later." Tony chuckles, watching us amused.

"Guess so Daddy." I don't get a chance to catch the way his nostrils flare a bit or how he licks his lips at my statement as he watches his daughter steer me away.

Her and I have a blast in the pool for a couple hours, Morgan even more so as I sit on the edge with just my feet in. She shows me how well she's gotten a swimming since the last time we saw each other. It's beyond obvious her practice is paying off; my best lil buds gonna be ready for competitions in no time.

After, Tony brings us hot cheesy pizza for dinner as she grabs his laptop and shows me how to do the newest tik tok dance challenges that she and her friends like the most. We lay by the pool eat and laugh together as all the goofy and cool new trends come up. It just surprises me that a young girl can navigate the platform so efficiently. The smartie pants even makes me an account so I can keep up with what she's up to.

"Alright, little girl. Its 7:30, time to go to sleep. We'll do a bath in the morning. Go brush your teeth and get into your pjs. Daddy and I'll be by to say goodnight when your done."

The good girl that Morgan is, she kisses my cheek and skips off into the house. I quickly clean up our mess and head off to search for Tony.

When I find him it's 7:45 and he's laid out on the couch in one of his dens, arm thrown tiredly over his face. I think he's asleep from his even breaths, the calm rise and fall of his athletic bare chest. Fuck he makes my mouth water the way he lays with his legs spread wide, wearing only a pair of soft cotton light grey sweats low on his hips. His toned tummy and the thin line of his happy trail entice me to come closer for a better look and I'm right behind him in an instant. Goddam the bulge of his cock looks girthy as fuck.

I reach out and lightly massage at his shoulders, bending for just a moment to whisper at his ear.

"Its time for Daddy to go say goodnight."

Tony removes his arm and gazes up at me tiredly. The short low groan helps activate the already swirling storm in my gut. There's no way my panties aren't wet.

"Ok, honey. Let's go." Sitting up a few inches before pausing as Jarvis begins to speak.

"Actually Mr. Stark, Morgan has been asleep for 3 minutes 26 seconds. I predict she will not be awake for another 10 and a half hours sir."

"Thanks." Daddy relaxes into my touch again before speaking again.

"Hey Jarvis?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark?"

"Take a walk."

"Yes sir."

There's a quiet beep signaling the AI's exit as I continue to massage Tony's strong shoulders.

"Come here, beautiful. Come sit on Daddy's lap, let's talk." He requests gently.

I know we've been crossing some kinda boundary the way we speak to one another, but if I do as he asks this'll be a clear violation in his marriage. I don't wanna cause harm to Tony in any way, in fact I ache to make him happy however I can. That desire in itself is probably what has me toeing of my shoes and plopping my round ass cheeks right on his dick before I have another thought.

He's half hard and I'm baffled how I didn't notice because he's already so thick. The first press of my pussy against it has me biting my lip and pushin again and again to mimic the pressure on my clit. My breath puffs out as I hold back a moan at the feeling. Christ, I'm throbbing in need and I've sittin in his lap for a total of 5 seconds.

"Did my 2 favorite girls have fun?" Tony asks seemingly unaffected..

Except when i squint it seems his breath accelerates just a bit through his slightly open mouth, warm strong chest rising and falling just a fraction faster. His palms slide underneath my skirt to the top of my thighs, tenderly rubbing in a circular motion as I lightly hump at his cock.

"So much fun, Daddy. I'm kinda tired though, long day. Obviously not long as yours. You look exhausted. You ok?"

He only tilts his head and offers a small shrug.

"I kinda feel better now that I get to see my little cheer captain in her sexy uniform." Tony leers up at me with a smirk before winkin, making me bust out in laughter.

"So how's classes sweetheart? You doin okay?"

"I am, first semester was a bit difficult but I got the ropes now. I'm a fuckin superstar." I brag with a smile.

"That's great honey, glad to hear it." He replies warmly, rotating his hips in circles against me.

"Still don't ever forget that I gotta blank check with your name on it. Matter fact, you're not leavin here this weekend without it. Got it?" He asks sternly, lookin directly into my soul.

"Yes Daddy." I answer without a second thought.

"Good girl." He praises, moaning low in his throat at my swift movements.

"Well.." I lean forward till our lips are almost touching and look deep into his pretty eyes. "What can I do to make Daddy feel better?"

Tony breaks first. He roughly presses his lips to mine, sucking and kissing as he holds me in place with one hand on the back of head. The other hand grips my thigh firmly as he dominates our kiss passionately. His fine ass licks into my mouth while groaning, sucking on the tip of my tongue as I moan loud and frantically crush our pelvis' together. He gives me one nip to my lips before speaking against them.

"Make Daddy cum, sweetheart."

"How?" I ask nervously, pulling back to look into his hazy eyes.

"Any way you want gorgeous."

My hips come to a halt as I think for a moment before sliding off his lap to my knees and greedily soakin in the growl he emits when he notices the wet spot I left on his crotch.

Pulling my medium sized perky tits through the designed slit at the bottom of my cheer top, showing him stiff pierced nipples. A small slim chain hangs between my breasts, connecting the 2 piercings. I shake my titties at him, smiling at his hypnotized glazed stare at my supple chest.

"Fuck my tits." I demand, slightly dipping my head forward to let a generous glob of spit splat between them.

There's no need to ask twice as Tony hastily snatches his dick from his sweats and slides it between my round brown orbs. He relaxes back into the deep navy blue sectional while I press my breasts together to surround his thick shaft and begin with slow strokes. Biting those delicious lips, his head dips further into the couch as he watches me through slits. Daddy looks so fucking good as he fights the pleasure enveloping his dick.

"Hoooooh, fu- AH! Jesus y/n, feels so good. Thank you, pretty girl. Ohfuck! Just what I needed. Mmmm.. Yeah, yeah just like thaaat.."

His arms hang limp at his sides as he lets me unravel him. Poor baby, his eyes don't know where to look, darting from my dark nipples to his big fat dick stabbing up through the swell of my breasts. I take a mental picture of the way he loses his mind in my body, hips coming up erratically to meet my downward thrusts.

"You like slipping your fat cock between my titties, Daddy?" I ask innocently, squeezing his dick a bit more firmly.

"Ah, ah, yes babygirl! N-never felt this gooood!" He sputters back to me.

"Glad you're enjoying yourself. Though the other option was to lay on my back, spread open my legs and wet little pussy to you. Let you be the judge of which hole of mine you wanted.. first.."

I speed up my slippery tits, fucking his twitching cock from base to tip at a quick steady pace. The spit turned out to be the perfect lubricate as he easily plunges his dick between my tits.

"Oh fuck little girl, so goddamn perfect for me- haaaashit! Ahhaaaa, fuck! Ohmyfuckinggod y/n want that so bad. N-need to fuck every inch of you honey.."

His hands ball into fists as he widens his stance, giving me ample room to work. Those gorgeous eyes roll back into his head as he gasps at the sensation building in his groin.

"Yes, yes, yes! Please! Letmefuckyouhoney! P-please, need to cum y/n. Aaaaaaahfuuuuuck! Haven't cum in months. Pleasepleaseplease, will do anything sweetheart!"

Now completely understanding Tony's absolute desperation, my cunt flutters as his pleas to feel my pussy double and rise in volume. I slam my tits onto his dick repeatedly, loud wet smacking intermixed with his sobs.

"How long Daddy? Exactly how long since you sprayed your thick milky cream outta this big fat ass cock?" I ask, leaning to give kitten licks to the wide flushed tip.

I moan animatedly at the taste of the salty precum dripping from his leaky dick. It's so fucking addicting that I hungrily slurp on the head of his dick. His abs ripple as his body trembles through the onslaught.

"Almost a-Haaa! FUCK! Almostayeeeear! Ohshitohshit, gonna c-cum babygirl!"

Fuck that's way too damn long, so I resolve to not make him wait a second longer to fill up a wet and willing pussy.

"Yeeees ah, ah, ahhhh- wait! What the fuck?Come back here little girl!"

I giggle as I duck away from his hands swiping to pull my back towards his equally enraged dick. I scoot back on the plush white carpet, pulling off my squort and parting my shapely cocoa thighs. He's so immediately entranced at me spreading my pussy lips with one hand as I crook my finger and invite him over with the other.

"Oh fuck me, thank you sweetheart. Love you so much babygirl, you don't even know. Your my perfect girl, wish you were my wife instead honey."

I don't know if Tony knows he's speaking as he clumsily takes his place between my legs but the admission warms my heart.. And my pussy. I kiss his neck and hold him tight as he thanks me profusely for letting him inside.

He aims his dick at my pulsing little hole, tapping my clit twice before slipping about an inch of his dick inside. I keen at the stretch, whining and pulling at him for more but apparently that's all Daddy needs. Slamming his eyes shut, he hunches over me going completely feral and unloads months and months worth of frustration into me.

"Yea-eeeees, little girl! Lemme breed my favorite girl. Haaaaa fuck! Feels like heaven, cantstophoney! Ah, ah, ah, so gooood y/n. Love you much! So so so much!"

I relish how fucking whiny he becomes as he releases heavy splats of cum against my walls. The pressure of his load makes me moan like a whore underneath him as he holds me to his carpet by my shoulders and gives us both what we need.

"That's it Daddy, fill me up. Make me take your cum. I want all of it, yeeeees! Don't waste a drop, gimme my cream pleeeeease. My wet little kitty wants to drink up a thick dose of your milk Daddy, gimme!"

The force of Tony's nut stuns him but his fluttering lid reopens as he gazes at my face. Even through his flismy focus he stares at the sloppy saliva spattered on my tits and tummy down to where his dick splits me open wide.

It's my turn to become distressed as I hump at the rock hard cock dripping the last few drops of his load into my greedy cunt. Neither of us hear the front door open in our opposite state of minds; or the footsteps clicking towards our location.

"What the fuck?!" Peppers deranged voice echoes throughout the dim den making us jumps, the cock piercin me unintentionally stabbing a few inches deeper.

I wail in fucking pure delight, nails scratching down Tony's back as he immediately seethes at her entrance. It's clear he's not happy she interrupted our private moment. Still, his dick remains stiff as fuck inside me.

Lookin up at his wife with disdain, brows still pinched from the feeling of my pussy clutching at him hungrily, he demands that she leave.

Maybe it's time for Daddy to get a divorce..

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x black!reader #black reader #daddy k!nk #smut #black fanfiction #all readers #affair #dirty talk #daddy’s babygirl #daddy's good girl #breeding k1nk

184 notes · View notes

shiplessoceans · 8 months ago

Text

Ways I imagine Buddie cannon could happen before season 8 starts:

Buck and Eddie are doing something basic and domestic, like Buck is baking cookies in Eddie's kitchen using Bobby's tried and true recipe because Christopher is coming home tomorrow and Eddie is spiralling and pacing the kitchen because what if it doesn't go well and what if Christopher asks to move to Texas permanently and maybe he should have gone to Texas to get him instead of having his parents put him on a plane...

And Buck puts down the wooden spoon, wipes his hands off on the tea towel over his shoulder and grabs Eddie's shoulders to halt his pacing. He reassures Eddie it's all gonna be okay. Chris loves his dad. He knows his dad loves him.

Eddie drops his head and lets out a breath and Buck pulls Eddie into a hug while still reassuring him.

"You're family. You both love each other! And the rest? Hey, you'll figure it out."

He pulls back and looks Eddie in the eyes. Eddie blinks a few times, something behind his eyes shifts, like he's seeing something he's never seen before. Buck keeps talking.

"Okay?"

Eddie nods and steps forward, still nodding and kisses Buck.

Buck jumps back, and looks at Eddie, momentarily confused. Eddie's face is sure and set. He's chosen a path and he's sticking with it.

A second passes, a silent understanding built from years of easy friendship.

Eddie says only one word. It has the same inflection as though he asked him if he's down to get pizza tonight.

"Yeah?"

Bucks mouth splits into that lopsided smile that could rival the sun for it's warmth.

"Hell yeah."

And they're off. An embrace, easy slow kisses, holding each other, both mesmerised, moving together easily and learning each other in this new way. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle and it seems strange that this should be the first time they've done this given how familiar it somehow it feels. As thought they've been doing this for years instead of minutes.

Buck pulls back first, Eddie still leaning forward, trying to maintain the contact. He only just got this and is unwilling to relinquish it.

"Woah, woah. We should..."

Eddie blows out air with his words:

"...slow down, yeah."

Eddie let's his hand drop from where it's cupping Bucks' cheek and Buck nods before rushing to clarify.

"Not that I want to!"

Eddie huffs a laugh. "Me either, Buck." He pulls away entirely and takes a few steps back to the other side of the kitchen so they are no longer touching.

Buck tries not to look forlorn at the loss, reminding himself to think with his upstairs brain. He gestures between them.

"This just feels like something we should talk about before we..."

Eddie puts his hands behind his head, looking distressed and lets out a groan.

"No! You're right, I'm messing this up."

Eddie steels himself. Walking back over to gently take Bucks hands in his own.

"Evan Buckley you are my best friend. I know you love me and I know you love Chris and we both love having you in our lives. But I've been trying to figure some stuff out lately, about myself, and what I've realised is that...

Eddie's face breaks into a smile.

"I don't just love you like a friend or brother or co-worker. Buck... You are the best person I know. And I love you more than I thought possible. "

Buck looks like someone struck him with lightning again.

"Eddie..."

"Please let me finish."

Buck nods after a beat.

"So I guess what I'm saying is: Evan Buckley, would you let me take you on a date?"

Buck laughs then, while blinking back happy tears, Eddie joins him. They laugh and then kiss and hold each other.

Buck sniffs and nods.

"Yes. I would love to."

Eddie kisses him again.

Buck shoves him playfully. "Took you long enough!"

Eddie wipes his eyes discreetly and jokes: "Hey give a guy a break! Years of Catholic repression, a shotgun wedding and being made a widower will mess a guy up for a while."

Buck grins at him.

"I like the mess."

#stream of consciousness ficlet #buddie #911 fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck/eddie #buddie fic

32 notes · View notes

chronicowboy · 5 months ago

Note

Song 88 for the playlist character thing!

hi! sorry this took so long but you chose possibly my favourite buddie song of all time and i just had to write a little ficlet

the door swings open (and you're standing there)

As he grabs Eddie's duffel bag from the backseat, Buck thinks of Hachikō the dog that waited for his owner to arrive at the station after work every day. How he waited long after his owner had died. Until he too eventually died at that very same station. It's far too easy to imagine himself sat just outside those airport doors, watching, waiting, withering.

Buck wouldn't get treats and food from affectionate passersby. Buck would get pitying looks from any commuter that spared him a glance.

Still, when Eddie's hand brushes his as he takes his bag, Buck thinks his tail would be wagging, if he had one. Wants to paw at Eddie for more. Wants to press his face into Eddie's neck. Wants to be a bad dog and sink his teeth in there too. Leave a mark. Remember me. Take this with you. Hate me if you have to, just take me with you.

"Got everything?" he asks instead, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Hopefully," Eddie sighs and slips the strap over his shoulder. His eyes are skittish like a doe in a field deciding which way to run. He's fiddling with the zipper on his bag, and it takes Buck back to a too-bright kitchen, Eddie's thumbs rubbing into his palms.

This is panic. This is Eddie Diaz panicking.

"Tell Chris I say hi," Buck says. An out. Always, always an out. And then, he'd left, and Buck had had to hide behind Tommy instead. But eventually he'd left too, and Buck. Well, Buck had ruined everything. This, however, works exactly as he'd planned. Soothes Eddie's hackles right down and draws out that shaky little smile of his. "Tell him—" The words choke themselves off in Buck's throat. "Tell him I love him." And his voice comes out wrong. Wobbly and weak when this should be the easiest thing in the world to say. "Tell him I miss him, and I love him more than he'll ever know. Tell him like that."

Eddie's face cracks open again, smile shattering, the resigned eyes of a doe caught in a trap.

"Buck," he croaks. Swallows, stands to attention, sets a hand on Buck's shoulder. His thumb burns a hole into Buck's collarbone. "You're talking like you're never gonna see us again." Buck shrugs, regrets it almost immediately, waits for Eddie's hand to slip from his shoulder. It doesn't. Anchored there, sure and unyielding. "I'm gonna be back in a few weeks."

"To get your stuff, Eddie," Buck scoffs.

"Yeah." Amusement blooms across Eddie's face, unfurls in his eyes like the first bud of spring. He tilts his head to catch Buck's gaze, smiles wider. "And I'll be packing you into one of the boxes, so you can help me put all my furniture back together again."

Buck thinks it'd be infinitely easier, if he was a dog, to slip into Eddie's moving van unnoticed. Launch himself into Eddie's arms when the doors opened after eight hundred miles. Lick his face and beg for forgiveness rather than permission.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Eddie says, and it's full of that Diaz conviction that makes Buck feel like he's been overtaken by a wave. He wants to drown in it.

"I know." Buck shrugs again. Shrugs a little more than last time. Eddie's hand falls from his shoulder, and Buck hopes that was the only thing keeping him afloat.

"No, seriously." Eddie huffs at Buck, at himself maybe. He runs a hand through his hair, and those two perfectly messy strands fall right back over his forehead. Buck has thought on more that one occasion about reaching up to brush them away, but this is something that doesn't need fixing. "I'm going to be alone over there, Buck. Especially if Chris isn't ready for me to be there. And you..." Eddie doesn't choke on his words. He laughs. A sweet, tinkering sound. It reminds Buck of the windchimes in Eddie's backyard. "You have always been right there by my side. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do when you're not there anymore."

"You'll figure it out." Buck shrugs again. He glances up from the pavement just in time to catch the defeated collapse of Eddie's shoulders, his face.

"Buck..." He takes a deep breath. "I don't know if I want to figure it out."

And there are a thousand things Buck could say. A thousand unspoken words Buck has hoarded since he flipped over that stupid fucking tablet. A thousand truths he could spill in parking structure 3 at LAX during his seven-dollar half hour.

There are things he could say that Hachikō never got to.

Instead, Buck lets them all clump and clot around his heart like some cancerous mass to be removed when it's already too late.

"You should get going," he says. "Don't want to miss your flight."

Eddie looks at him for a beat too long. Eyes unnerving. Buck feels like peeling paint on a wall watching a can of paint stripper get set down on the sheet-blanketed floor. Feels like a nerve exposed to the brisk chill of winter air, every sensation just too much. So, when Eddie wraps his arms around Buck's middle, he feels it like a thicket of thorns latching onto him. It's instinct that has him catching Eddie. And it's a sword that lances straight through his chest when Eddie's grip tightens around him, hands fisting in the fabric of Buck's shirt, nose replacing his thumb on Buck's neck. Every point of contact like a weeping wound. Buck will carry each of them until he's empty.

When Eddie pulls away, it's Christopher he thinks of that allows Buck to let him slip away.

"Fly safe," he rasps.

"I'll make sure to tell the pilot there's precious cargo onboard," Eddie teases with an eyeroll. It's so close. So almost normal.

"You do that." And it's not even close. Nowhere near normal. He can't even give Eddie this. Ruins their goodbye once more.

"See you soon, Buck."

He could spare himself the pain. Could walk away right now. He was always good at that. The walking away, not the sparing himself pain. But, well, Buck couldn't not watch Eddie leave anymore than Orpheus couldn't not turn around to share in the delight of sunlight with his Eurydice. And when Eddie turns to look at him one last time, offers him a half-smile and a half-wave, before getting swallowed up by the crowd, Buck thinks it's his fault for loving him so much.

Except that's not true, is it? Orpheus travelled all the way underworld, charmed the ferryman and Cerberus and Hades himself with his music. The perfect melody of love and grief. Buck drove Eddie to the airport and just... Let him walk away.

Eddie would make a better Orpheus, he thinks. Eddie who found joy and flung the door open wide to Buck, so ready to share it with him. Eddie would make the perfect Orpheus. If only he loved Buck the way Orpheus loved Eurydice, the way Buck loves Eddie.

That's the simple truth of it. Buck loves Eddie. He'd do anything for him. And if that means crossing the Styx, losing him for good, Buck thinks it'll be worth it as long as Eddie goes knowing he's loved so completely that it becomes natural.

Buck goes through the glass doors. He slips through the crowd. Elbows his way towards the security checkpoint.

When he sees Eddie, he thinks he'd turn around for his Eurydice not to share in the light but because she is the light. Buck would gladly go blind.

Buck manages to catch him before he reaches the line for security, and Eddie turns to him with a delightfully bemused frown.

"Buck, what—"

"I'm sorry." Buck shakes his head, squeezes Eddie's wrist. "I'm sorry. I've never been good at goodbyes, but I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to say goodbye to you, Eddie."

"It's not goodbye, Buck." Eddie frowns, grabs Buck's wrist right back. "I said see you soon, and I meant it."

"I know. I know you meant it." Buck smiles. Some crumpled copy of a smile at least. "I just hope you still mean it after this." Eddie's face twists into something both confused and offended like the thought of not seeing Buck again is just so utterly unthinkable.

"What—"

"I'm in love with you, Eddie." Buck doesn't wait for a reaction. Can't. "I only just figured it out, can you believe it? Six years of you at my side, and I only realise when you're slipping right through my fingers." Buck laughs, a noise like nails on a chalkboard. "I'm not expecting anything of you. I just... I just needed to tell you before you left or otherwise I'd regret it for the rest of my life."

"Buck, I—"

"You don't have to say anything, Eddie." Buck shakes his head, still smiling. "Just promise me something?"

"Anything, but, Buck—"

"Just promise me, Eddie." He tightens his grip on Eddie's wrist, nails digging in just a little. Well, a bad dog after all. "Be honest with Chris. Tell him the whole truth. Don't go hiding things you think he can't handle it. Chance is he knows it already, he just doesn't have a name for it. And that makes it so much worse, Eddie. You grow up feeling it, but you're never allowed to look at it. And it grows and grows and grows. So, just. Tell him everything. No matter how heavy. Tell him, and the two of you will carry it together instead of alone. Promise me that, Eddie. Don't colour it with your guilt. The plain honest truth, okay?"

"Okay." Eddie nods blankly. Buck squeezes Eddie's wrist and drops it. Eddie grasps it against his chest like he's been burnt.

Buck walks away. He looks back just once.

~~~~

Eddie has been in Texas for almost a whole month. And since a perfunctory Arrived safe after his flight, they haven't talked once. So, Buck throws himself into work. Embraces the flames of a five-alarm fire like an old friend. Jumps off of thing just to feel the blessed weight of free-fall before the rope snaps taut. Covers every shift he can find until Bobby forces him to take ninety-six whole hours off.

He runs around downtown LA until his bad leg starts to scream in pain. He goes to the gym with music blasting in his headphones, so he can't hear the ugly thoughts curdling in his brain, lift weights until the shoulder he'd dislocated starts to scream too. Watches reality TV until his brain feels like it's melting right out of his ears. Eases his way into fitful sleep with shots of tequila chased by the old beers in the back of Eddie's fridge.

His first shift back is stifling. The eyes on him making him feel like a rabid dog backed into a corner. Everyone terrified of what he'll do next. So, he whispers quiet to himself in the bathroom and sighs in relief when the alarm blares.

They don't get back to the station until 3am, and Chimney is too tired to go on a manhunt for whoever jinxed them, so Buck stows himself away in the loft whilst everyone else shuffles into the bunks. He checks his phone out of habit, grinning at the picture of Maddie's sonogram she'd sent after her appointment, wonders if Chim is trying to sniffle quietly in the bunks—almost definitely.

And then, he sees the voicemail.

He doesn't really think much of it. Tries to tell himself it's probably just his doctor calling about that check-up he should be scheduling or the landlord asking if he's decided on renewing his lease or not yet, ignoring the timestamp in the corner of the little white box, ignoring the stutter of his heart and the tremble running through his body.

01:47

Buck clicks on the notification before his phone can shake right out of his hands. He brings it up to his ear, listens, waits. He takes a deep, rattling breath in perfect synchronicity with the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hey, Buck, I'm sorry I haven't..." A pause. "God, you must have thought..." A huff. One of those laughs that's trying too hard to be a laugh and ends up being something else instead. "I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. Jesus Christ. I'm fucking stupid, Evan Buckley. Did you know that? I, God, I don't know how I didn't see it. I've been looking at you almost every day of my life for six years and somehow I never fucking saw it. You were just...

"You're like breathing, Buck. You-you're a necessity. An instinct. You don't notice it's there until it's gone. And then you spend three and a half weeks panicking in a shitty AirBnB in El Paso because you can't fucking breathe without him. And I—" Eddie isn't breathing. Eddie has always been breath-taking to Buck, stealing the air right out of his lungs. Not for selfish gains but to take care of it when he didn't trust Buck to do it himself. "I love you. I'm in love with you, Buck. Oh, my God. I'm in love with you. I didn't know, Buck. I didn't know. You have to believe me. I didn't know. And now... It's not too late, Buck. Is it too late? Am I too late?"

"No," Buck whispers into the empty air of the station. Can't help himself. Feels the no like a parasite in him. Like a xenomorph bursting right out of his chest. Too big, too big, too big.

"I love you, and I'm two states away, and I didn't know I could love you like this, and I didn't know love could feel like this, Buck. I just want to be where you are. Always. I want to hold your hand. I want to hold you. God, I want to kiss you. Buck. I want to kiss you so badly. But I have to... Chris is here, and he's talking to me, and I'm picking him up from school now. I can't... I can't kiss you. Not yet. I need to fix our family first."

Buck clasps a hand over his mouth and sobs against his palm. He doesn't know what it is he's feeling. Couldn't name it all if he tried. The most comparable sensation he has is how it felt when he woke up after his leg. When the drugs were just strong enough that he was numb in that delicious kind of way. Warm instead of cold. Floaty. Everything dulled, but that little voice in the back of his head telling him something was wrong.

"I'm firing my realtor tomorrow, I don't care. I need to take my house off the market. My parents are driving me crazy. Christopher misses you. I miss you. I love you. I love you." Eddie laughs. And this is a laugh. A real laugh. One of his bubbles of joy that Buck wants to be encased in forever and ever. "I just. God, it's always there, Buck. It's always been right there. Writing grocery lists and running into burning buildings and driving through traffic and I was loving you the whole time. How the hell have you been carrying this around? I feel like it's going to crush me if I don't... But I left. I left. I'm so sorry I left. It's late. You're at work. I shouldn't. I love you, Buck. Okay? So much. Call me back?"

The line doesn't go dead. Eddie sits there breathing down the phone for twelve more seconds, and Buck inhales after each of his exhales like he'll be able to taste Eddie's oxygen from eight hundred miles away because he's greedy. But. But Eddie loves him. Eddie wants to kiss him. Eddie is eight hundred miles away.

Buck pockets his phone and heads for Bobby's office with something frantic buzzing away beneath his skin. He raps on the door gently, clenches his hands into fists and stuff them into his pockets as they shake, shake, shake.

"Come in," Bobby calls, quiet with the late hour. Buck pushes into the room. Too concerned with the way his spine seems to be trying to crawl out of his mouth to think about his face, but whatever expression is there has Bobby setting his pen down with three quick blinks. "Buck. Everything okay?"

"I need to go to Texas," he blurts out. Bobby blinks three more times. Okay, not quite what he'd meant to say. "I know you just gave me four days off, but I-I need to go, Bobby."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." Buck smiles, and he's not sure what it looks like, but it makes Bobby melt back into his seat with a smile of his own. "Everything's good, Bobby. I just need to see them."

"Take a week," Bobby says just like that.

"W-wait, really?"

"Why not? Pretty sure you've got more vacation days saved up than everyone else combined." Bobby nods, a final approval. "Hit the bunks, get some sleep, head home when you wake up, forget about any calls."

"Are you, I mean, are you sure?" he asks, doesn't realise he's almost bouncing in place until the corner of Bobby's mouth quirks up just a little more.

"Yeah, Buck, I'm sure." He jerks his head. "Go get 'em."

Buck doesn't need to be told twice.

~~~~

A day later, one miracle down and almost five hundred dollars poorer, Buck is lugging a half-zipped duffel bag out of an extortionately priced Uber. He drops the bag on the doorstep of some stranger's bungalow, raises his fist and hesitates. It's just—

Can it really be this easy? Can Buck just show up out of the blue and expect to be welcomed with those kisses Eddie had been wanting so badly? Can he have this? Can he really have Eddie?

And then, like an answer, the door swings open.

Eddie is standing there bathed in the golden light of the entryway lamp. He's frozen to the spot, paused with one arm in his jacket, the other hanging limp at his side. His jaw slack, but tugged up just a little, so slight only Buck and his PhD in Eddie Diaz would catch it. And his eyes. God, his eyes. Buck almost falls to his knees for missing those brown eyes alone. Now, they're the warmest Buck has ever seen them, wide and full of wonder. Buck did that. Buck filled Eddie's eyes with awe and fondness and so much love he thinks he could drown in it even if he was still in LA and looking at them through a screen.

"Buck," Eddie breathes, smile dawning over his face like the most beautiful sunrise Buck has ever seen.

He doesn't even get to open his mouth before Eddie's arms are around him, and Buck doesn't know why he was mourning Eddie's house when this is so clearly home—the pounding of Eddie's heart against his own. Buck slides his arms around Eddie's waist, slips them under the jacket hanging from his left shoulder, buries his face in Eddie's neck and breathes in as much home as he can fit in his lungs. Eddie does the same, just clings to Buck, inhales, digs his fingers into Buck's back deep enough that he hopes they bruise.

"You're here," Eddie whispers into Buck's skin.

"I got your message," Buck rasps.

Eddie pulls away like it's the last thing he wants to do, barely even pulls away, just enough to look. And, oh, does he look. Takes Buck in from head to toes, lingers on his lips just a moment longer than the rest. Looks at Buck like he's seeing fire for the first time, amazed, enchanted, just the tiniest bit afraid. He's beaming. It's not a smile, not a grin. It's a beam. Buck wants to bottle it.

"Going somewhere?" Buck asks, plucking at the half-on, half-off—half-on, what the hell, Buck's feeling optimistic—jacket. Eddie glances down at it blankly, shrugs right out of it and lets it fall to the floor without taking his eyes off Buck.

He's not sure who cracks first, but their twins grin burst. Eddie almost doubles over with the force of his laughter, catching himself on Buck's shaking shoulders. And Buck doesn't know how long they stand on the doorstep just laughing, but he thinks he could stay there forever. Could get drunk off the sound of Eddie's joy. Because that's what it is really. The jacket falling hadn't been this funny. Nothing was this funny. Because this was just what happened when happiness grew too big to be contained.

Eventually, their laughter fades into huffed little breaths that makes Buck feel like that exposed nerve again when they hit the skin of his neck.

"Hey, Buck," he says, joy glowing in the pink of his cheeks. "I love you."

"Hey, Eddie." Buck smiles, but that isn't really a big enough word for what he's feeling. "I love you."

Eddie kisses him like he's been thinking of nothing else for a month. Eddie kisses him like he's run all the way from El Paso to LA just to kiss him. Eddie kisses him like it's the end of the movie and the music is swelling and the fireworks are exploding. Eddie kisses him like he's kissed him a thousand times before.

Gentle. Chaste, really. Desperately careful. Devastatingly tender. Fond and enamoured and loving. It tastes of joy.

Eddie pulls back only to lean in again. Drops one, two, three, four more kisses to Buck's mouth before dragging his thumb over his bottom lip. His eyes flicker to Buck's, a question, and Buck answers. Leans in and keeps on leaning. Asks Eddie, asks the universe, pleads, demands: fuse us together, let me crawl inside, I'll stay, I'll stay right here. And Eddie doesn't just permit him. Eddie opens up to him, answers with a question of his own: can I be yours, can this be us, can I call you mine?

When Buck pulls away, he finds the eighth wonder of the world. Eddie, kiss-dishevelled, swollen lips, cheeks red, hair mussed, eyes glossed over.

"You're here," Eddie croaks, voice hoarse from just a kiss. Buck's knees go weak. "How long are you here for?"

"Bobby gave me the week," Buck says, breathless from the best kiss of his life.

"Well, that'll have to do, I guess," Eddie teases.

He kisses Buck three more times before dropping to a crouch. All the blood in Buck's head floods South so fast he's dizzy with it. But Eddie stands back up with his jacket, tosses Buck's duffel bag into the entryway and pushes him off the doorstep.

"Come on. We're gonna be late."

"Late for what?" Buck asks, still half-stuck on the image of Eddie basically dropping to his knees in front of him.

"Dinner with my parents," Eddie says as he locks the door.

"Uh..." Buck blinks. "Do you want... Sh-should I wait here?"

"If you think I'm letting you out of my sight, you're crazy." Eddie cups the side of his face and pecks him once on the lip before heading to the truck. It's so domestic, so perfectly easy. Buck thinks he must be losing his mind because there's no way to kiss someone like that two minutes after your very first kiss. "Besides." Eddie throws him a grin as he slips into the driver's seat. "If Chris found out I'd kept you from him for even a second, he'd really never forgive me."

#sami rambles #okay i hate this really. but i was never going to do this song justice. i love it far too much.#(and i'm sick)#thank you so much for asking <3 best choice of number fr fr #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #buck x eddie fic

25 notes · View notes

wheredostarsgowhenyoudie · 1 year ago

Text

Once upon a holiday...

Bruce (enters the lab to see Tony and Rhodey tinkering): Hey guys. Happy holidays! So, is it true that Spider-Man will joining us at the party? I wanted to know what he likes. Any ideas? What's your gift for Peter?

Rhodey (groans and points a screw driver at the man who skateboard rolls out from under the car): Ugh, don't ask, man. He's been pestering me for weeks. He has a spreadsheet.

Tony (perks up): I'm glad you asked! Here, I'll show you. Then you can give me ideas if I missed anything. Friday, be a dear and show Bruce the latest list. Also, my kid's a nerd. So just be there and greet him like the scientist with too many Phds you are, and I tell you, kid's gonna combust. But if you really wanna make his day, invite him to work on something with you.

Friday (displaying the list in hologram): Here you go, boss. We now have a total of a five hundred and seventy eight items in the list.

Bruce (blinks): A total of- Man, that's a lot. What is even on that list?

Tony (waves them off): Please. I'm just being thorough. They're all necessities.

Rhodey: The iron-spider upgrade, I get. But a satellite? Men in black ninja body guards? A star? A Spider-Man museum? Man, if it's Star Wars, sure. Pete is a fanboy. But the other things? Mcdonalds franchise company? IKEA? Netflix? A condominium building? Shares of SI to be received when he's legal? How are those necessities?

Bruce (laughs loudly): You know all this can be simplified if you just convince him to sign adoption papers, right?

Tony: (freezes)

Rhodey (beams and turns expectantly at Tony): Now, why didn't I think of that?! Bruce, you are a genius!! Tony, buddy, you breathing?

Tony (stares dumbly for a couple of minutes, mind reeling): Hah. Right. You're right. Hah.

Tony: Friday, call my lawyers and ask May when she's available. I need to adopt my kid.

Meanwhile in Queens...

Spider-Man (pauses mid-swing to sneeze): Achoooo!

Spider-Man (wipes nose): Karen, is someone talking about me?

Karen (who is very much in cahoots with Friday): I don't know what you're talking about, boss junior, but boss set me to remind you that you now only have seventeen minutes before curfew.

Spider-Man (sighs): Yeah, yeah I know. But why do you call me that, Karen? I'm not your boss.

Karen: Mini boss?

Spider-Man: No!

Karen: Boss baby?

Spider-Man: No! I'm fourteen, and not a baby.

Karen: Searching for better nicknames.

Spider-Man (sighs and lands on a rooftop): Ugh, just, just stop please. Just call me Peter. Peter is a perfectly good name, Karen.

#avengers #irondad #spiderson #mcu #mcu marvel avengers #peter parker #tony stark #james rhodes #irondad & spiderson #iron man #spider-man #marvel

122 notes · View notes

lovecolibri · 1 month ago

Note

Okay, I still hate the BT "hook up" with every fiber of my being and felt it was unnecessary. But I can at least understand why someone like Tim, who loves drama and who probably stubbornly had SOMETHING like this planned out from the beginning, felt it needed to happen to get Tommy to say those things and put the thought in Buck's head. Again, I don't agree, and it stirred up a bit of a hornet's nest in fandom, but I was kind of shocked by how hard Tim was going in the interviews to say 1) we're NOT shutting Buddie down and 2) be so dismissive of BT 🤣

Anyway, I feel we are in for a slowwww burn with Buddie. Maybe slower than I thought. Of course anything can happen and it's very possible that they are hiding big things about Eddie coming up. Speaking of Eddie...do you think he will be back in some capacity in 814 and 815? I don't think he will be with the team, obviously, but the missed opportunity if he isn't involved. Not just for his story but also a little delicious Buddie angst 😁 I'm really hoping for a BTS or something to indicate that he'll be there.

Yeah, I don't think they needed to do All That, but now that we have the full picture of what they did, I can't lie, I have been cackling since Thursday. I underestimated how much Tim is a messy bitch. I agree, we could have gotten here without the full "first gay sex in Eddie's own house doesn't even get to be him" mess, but no changing that now, so I'm finding the joy where I can, mostly in the fact that it was SO clearly about Eddie, and that we were fucking RIGHT about Eddie being petty enough that T picked up on it, and actively viewed them as competing. For Buck. Which the audience heard meaning they will now be thinking about ever BT scene as T being jealous and competing with Eddie. BYE laughing forever!

I also found it VERY interesting that the stuff about Buddie is getting even more vague and they are talking in even bigger circles around it trying not to confirm nor deny anything at all, while being pretty hardline and clear about BT being over and T coming back NOT for Buck's plot but part of the emergency and that romantic door being pretty well shut. Just...inch resting.

IDK how slow things are gonna go, mostly because this episode alone was SO wild and moved things for Buddie SO far, SO fast. I think we will cool down a little with the big emergency coming up, and Eddie's arc being about Chris first and foremost. As for his return, I also don't know because that man never seems to be at work (RYAN! YOU'RE NEEDED ON SET, GRIL GO BACK TO WORK!). I would HOPE he's back in some way for the disaster, mostly because I think it would be *delicious* for him to be not at work and in danger in a little tsunami arc parallel but I guess we'll just have to wait and see! I'm really hoping we get surprised with this Eddie-in-TX arc, though I'm not super holding my breath. This episode did remind me how predictable they've gotten with parental "redemption" AKA the kid being the one to have to sweep everything under the rug so the parent's don't have feel bad anymore, but it also surprised me with how hard for Buddie and Eddie it went so, fingers crossed we get something that justifies All That Mess we've been waiting for movement on since the s7 finale.

#911 #my sweet nonnie friends #buddie #anti tommies #anti tommy fandom

11 notes · View notes

mysteryshoptls · 2 years ago

Text

SSR Deuce Spade Bloom Birthday Voice Lines

When Summoned: Keep your eyes on me. I'm gonna keep working hard to become an awesome mage!

Summon Line: You think this looks good on me? Thanks. Wearing something formal like this has got me feeling real determined. I'm gonna show just how much I can grow!

Groooovy!!: I worked hard at my extra flight practice just for today. Just watch, I'm gonna fly so good!

Home: I can't believe I get to wear this super awesome mage attire...!

Home Idle 1: For a while, I thought it was stupid and just for kids... But I guess I do really get a special feeling when blowing out the candles on a birthday cake.

Home Idle 2: It really is hard to pick a present that suits the person you're giving it to, huh. I'm real bad at that, so I really look up to people who can.

Home Idle 3: Jack said that he accidentally bought extra drinks, so he gave me one. Does he really seem like the guy who makes that kind of mistakes?

Home Idle - Login: I'm real happy that my buddies remember my birthday. Obviously you all would, you say? Well, it still means a lot to me.

Home Idle - Groovy: To be able to defend against Draconia-senpai's magic... I've set such a crazy-high goal, so I gotta work harder!

Home Tap 1: All my classmates kept saying happy birthday to me, so when a professor wished me well, I accidentally just said "thanks" way too casually...!

Home Tap 2: Diamond-senpai gave me a phone holder to use on a magical wheel. I'll show you if I get a real cool video.

Home Tap 3: How's my broom look? These bright blue decorations are gonna make me look like I'm one with the sky, it's gonna be awesome!

Home Tap 4: Epel's present for me is... Woah, mods for a magical wheel!? Reminds me of home.

Home Tap 5: This outfit makes me feel like an accomplished mage. Obviously, I'm not gonna just be satisfied with wearing this outfit.

Home Tap - Groovy: Wanna ride on the back of my broom? I got this fancy broom now, so we should go for a spin over the sports field!

Duo: [DEUCE]: I can't believe I'm getting birthday wishes from you, Draconia-senpai! [MALLEUS]: Allow me to bestow upon you my blessing, Spade.

Birthday Login Message: Thanks for the birthday wishes! Birthdays are super fun, but time goes by so fast. There's not enough time in one day to enjoy it. Oh yeah! Do you want to go into town next weekend? I'll treat you to something good as thanks for today. You don't gotta hesitate or nothing. I have this coupon I get to use during my birth month! Ah, but it's only for two people, so don't tell any of the other guys.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #deuce spade #malleus draconia #twst deuce #twst malleus #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: jack #mention: malleus #mention: cater #mention: epel

194 notes · View notes

woozi-boo · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 2: A Hero, a Boat, and a Mini Detective Hat

Monty finds out what it feels like to be prized.

Warnings under cut

Warnings: Mentions of blood, Mentions of panic attacks, Mentions of epilepsy (literally one sentence), Mentions of death, A Monty that self-sabatoges himself (until Edwin steps in)

"Edwin, mate, I know you are mad at Monty, but it's not fair to let him die." Charles' voice echoed through the clearing, and Monty opened his eyes. Charles?

"Why are you so set on saving him, Charles? Has your opinion of him changed so drastically? May I remind you that he betrayed us?!" Edwin's harsh voice cut through Monty's heart, and he knew he would have teared up in human form. He knew he deserved it, but it still hurt.

"Mate, I know a thing or two about being willing to do anything to make the pain stop. As much as it sucks to say, Monty was a victim in this too. He didn't get to choose, and when he tried to choose, he almost died. You put me in Monty's spot, I'm doing the same thing. Makes me a villian too, then?" Edwin huffed at the question but stayed quiet.

"Monty, you here buddy?" Monty trilled weakly from his nest and Charles swung around, looking surprised. "Monty! You're up and moving, mate!" Charles walked quickly over to the nest, fingers gently reaching out to smooth over his wings. Monty relaxed in his hands and Charles gently picked him up, setting him on his lap.

"You're nest is pretty aces, mate, but I don't wanna get anything in your wounds." With that, he gently unwrapped the coverings from Monty's body, setting the soiled bandages aside. He then sprayed disinfectant on both sides of Monty's body, making him caw out in pain before new bandages were gently wound back around him.

"There we go now. Sorry about the pain, mate, but I can't have your wounds getting infected. Kinda ruins the whole point of fixing you, huh?" He smiled gently at him and set him back into his nest. When Charles stood up and dusted off his pants, Monty trilled in thanks. He knew that Charles could have, and probably should have, left him to die. The fact that he didn't meant more to Monty than anything in the world.

"Okay, he's fine. Are we ready to go home now?" Edwin asked Charles and Monty sagged in his nest. All the air drained from his lungs like a balloon with a hole in it. They were leaving. Of course they were leaving. Why wouldn't they be leaving? They didn't belong here, so they should be leaving.

Monty's chest was moving too quickly, heart beating too hard against his ribcage. Monty had never had a panic attack as a crow, but he hadn't thought like a human before then either. All that was streaming through his mind was, 'I'm going to be all alone.'

Monty barely felt the hands picking him up, barely felt anything until suddenly he was wrapped in something warm. His eyes shot open to see Niko holding him as close to her chest as possible, arms gently wrapped around him.

"It could be shock, Charles." Edwin said clinically, glancing at Monty before shrugging and turning to Crystal. Monty realized at this moment that they had noticed him trembling in his nest and had come back to check.

"Could it have been a seizure? Can birds have seizures?" Crystal chimed in, staring at Monty with a less than interested expression. Charles on the other hand, tensed at that statement, eyes flying to Edwin's for answers.

"I believe they can, Crystal, though I do not know that I would call it that." Niko smiled softly, petting Monty's head despite the grime covering him, and Monty felt himself sag into her arms in relief. She was so nice, and warm, and safe.

"He just had a panic attack. He doesn't know how to take care of himself; he's a boy in a crow's body." The entire group looked at Monty, tucked into Niko's arms, and Charles frowned.

"Aww mate, we weren't gonna leave you alone. I was gonna set a mirror to travel back and forth, but it might be better to bring you with us, yeah? Make you a proper Dead Boy Detective, yeah? Well, minus the dead part, but you can still help us out when you get better." Monty trilled, but it was barely a noise at this point. He was tired. So, so tired. Charles took that as a yes though, reaching his hand out to pet Monty's head before nodding at the group.

"Alright, we have a boat to catch. Jenny will be right mad if we miss it." This left Niko carrying Monty, her gentle grip on him keeping Monty anchored in her arms. He soon drifted back to sleep, hoping that next time he woke, he would be safe.

Monty woke on and off on the boat ride to London, mostly because of Charles. He had this habit of waking him every few hours to force water in a dropper down his beak or trying to get him to eat. Monty wasn't sure when the last time he ate was, but he wasn't really hungry and just wanted to sleep. The rocking boat was soothing, but the water made him nervous in his vulnerable state.

By the time they made it to London, Monty was sleepy and even more weak, probably because he refused to eat. He didn't really see the point of it, if he's being honest. The moment he healed, Charles and Edwin were just going to kick him to the streets. They were caring for him now because Charles had a misplaced hero complex, and Edwin loved him too much to say no. Monty was the poor sap that they found, and his tragic backstory made for the perfect rom-com ending. They would save Monty, Charles would finally realise he loves Edwin, and Monty would be the metaphorical dove they release at their wedding. It was perfect. Well, for everyone but Monty, it was perfect. He was used to that though, so why would this be any different?

This was different because it was Charles. This was different, because Charles was as stubborn, if not more stubborn, than Monty. This was different because Charles refused to let Monty give up on himself. This was how Monty found himself spending his first night in London, laying on a large desk in a cardboard box with strips of soft fabric at the bottom, all while Charles tried to force a piece of bread down his throat.

"Monty, you need to eat. You are not making it out of this body if you don't!" Charles was so close to bursting into frustrated tears, and it was all Monty's fault. He felt bad, but could not bring himself to do anything about it. After another failed attempt at getting bread into Monty's mouth, Edwin stepped in.

"Maybe Crystal could look on her mobile telephone to see what birds eat, Charles. I will stay with Monty." Charles huffed but nodded, leaving the room to find Crystal. Edwin rounded the desk, crouching to be at eye level with the bird boy.

"Monty, I know things must be very difficult and confusing for you, but Charles is trying really hard to help you. Crystal and I told him there was absolutely no way we were going back for you; however, he was bound and determined that you would not be left alone in one of the worst moments of your life. You may not like us after everything that has happened, and understand that we may still be chilly with you for awhile, but Charles would do anything to keep you safe," Edwin sighed, shoulders sloping in resignation, "I haven't figured out why yet, maybe something to do with his past, but you are his prized possession right now.”

At this comment, Edwin froze, a blush taking over his face as he shook his head immediately. Monty understood the sentiment he was trying to take back, but Monty didn't mind being called a prized possession. He just wished it was Edwin referencing himself, instead of Charles.

Edwin gathered himself after the slip-up and continued, "I apologize, Monty. I did not mean to suggest that you are a possession, only that Charles is trying so hard to keep you alive and well. Please don't break his heart by refusing." With that, Edwin stood and turned, walking to the window and staring out it.

Monty huffed, closing his eyes in frustration. He hadn't realized he could cause damage to Charles through resisting his kindness. Monty did not see the point in continuing his pain and life just to be thrown to the side in the end, but Edwin had a point. No one but Charles wanted to come save him. No one would have been there but Charles. He did owe it to Charles to at least try, he supposed.

Charles raced back into the room at that moment of realization, phasing through the wall as Crystal and Niko walked through the door, holding a box of Cheerios in their hands.

"You were right, Edwin! Birds cannot eat bread as it makes them sick. It said that I can feed Monty cereal though." With a soft smile, Charles took the box and poured a handful of Cheerios into his palm, holding them hopefully out to Monty. Monty, resolute in his decision, trilled a thank you to Charles before gently picking up a piece from his hand. Then he grabbed another. And another. And another, until the whole handful was gone and Monty was feeling full, and better. Who knew all he needed to feel better was a little bit of food?

Charles lit up from the inside out as he grabbed the dropper of water and gently lifted it to Monty's beak, squeezing a few drops at a time in so Monty could swallow and not choke. With a smile that burned brighter than all the stars in the sky, Charles lifted Monty into his lap to clean and re-bandage his wounds, and Monty let him without fuss. He didn't even fight when the disinfectant spray hurt him, knowing he was appeasing Edwin by allowing Charles to take care of him.

Charles went one step further though, grabbing a wet wipe that Niko had in her purse and gently wiping all the dirt, blood, and grime off of his feathers. When he finished this, Monty felt lighter. His wings were gross-free, and he felt better than he had before Charles had come back in the room. As he flexed his wings, Monty supposed Charles wasn't so bad to be taken care of by.

Days later, when Monty woke from a nap, he found a mini detective hat that Charles had asked Niko to make, a mini magnifying glass, and a mini cake made of cereal stacked in his makeshift nest to welcome him to the team. With a grinning Charles standing in front of him, trying to feed him pieces of his cake as Monty took in his new possessions, Monty decided he never wanted anyone else in his corner and taking care of him (except maybe Edwin. Only Maybe though).

There is chapter 2! I hope you enjoy and I will get the next chapters out in the next few days hopefully. We are testing at school (I'm a teacher) and it is so boring so I hope to have time.

#dead boy detectives #monty finch #edwin payne #charles rowland #niko sasaki #crystal palace

8 notes · View notes