#fourthgrade imagine

[michelleinterrupted]

hey bae i was wondering if you could do some dating fourth grade hcs <3

ofcc, I love him sm hes so underrated :((

I feel like his real name is Dylan, I'm not sure why but I jus feel like it is

you're one of the only people who calls him by his real name (or anything other than Fourthgrade really) and he truly appreciates it sm <33

I feel like hes not actually that dumb, he just lacks common sense

his best subject is math and if you're ever behind on it he tries his best to teach you and make sure you understand

when it's time to meet your family he is a nervous wreck.

he would be stuttering and sweating the entire time

he jus wants to make sure they like him cause he really wants to be with you :(

you're definitely his first s/o

he loves trying different hair colors and he gets you to help him (it's also an excuse to get his head massaged and scratched lol)

he has a box full of tapes that hes made using his camera and 90% of them are just lil vids of you

he saves up his money to buy you nice gifts on important milestones (your birthday, anniversary, Christmas, etc)

he loves matching with you, for awhile he didn't say it cuz he thought you would think its weird

but if you're ok with it, he wants to match 24/7 (he especially loves to match Halloween costumes if you celebrate hehe)

purposely leaves his things at your house so he has an excuse to see you again

if you dont already know how to skate, he will gladly spend however long it takes to teach you

skate dates!!

definitely a listener over a talking so he sits and listens to you talk forever with lil nods every now and then so you know he hears you

holds all your things for you all the time

walks you to each class even if its across the school and makes him late to his own

loves physical touch sm but is scared to make you uncomfy </3

records all your dates and titles them to look back on later

your first ever date was to the drive-in (he begged fuckshit to let him use his car) (I kinda wanna write this-)

his parents are aware that their son doesn't have much experience or luck when it comes to dating so they were hesitant when he started bringing you around cus they didn't want you to be playing with his feelings :(

but now that they've gotten to know you, they adore you <33

he waited so long before bringing you to his house since he doesn't have much, he was embarrassed (and sometimes still is) abt it

wants you to be the star in all his movies in the future, no matter if you can act or not

the first kiss was a bit awkward to say the least- (I could also elaborate on this another time if you'd like)

his love language is words of affirmation, he's had some pretty mean things said to him so pls jus tell him how much you love and appreciate him <3

I hope those were good, I wrote these down over the pass few days jus coming up with anything lmao

any likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! pls dont repost my works on any website with out credit !!!

[lowkeyrobin]

FOURTHGRADE ; dating hcs

warnings ; language, talk of substances, talk of like makeout stuff (not in great detail or anything but yk)

genre ; fluff

requested by ; @th0tblckgrl

masterlist

guys, he isn't dumb, he just lacks common sense I swear

he excells in tech classes and art stuff

math and science will be his downfall (real tbh)

always films you doing tricks and shit

has a whole vhs worth of film of raw, unedited footage of you two skating together (mostly you) and stupid cute shit he's caught on camera

he titles it "y/n/n <3" with a red sharpie too.

dyeing his hair w him

he never switches out that bleach & pink istg

it makes for good hangouts and stuff tho

you watch his gecko for hours while he's doing homework and shit

she's just so adorable omg

he likes you on top when you're making out and shit

he loves being straddled and being able to hold you by the waist and shit

he's not super clingy or anything but he loves his hand holding and cuddles

he has acne, and if you do too, oh my lord match made in heaven

he loves tracing your scars with his infamous red sharpie and it stains your face for almost a day lmao

he likes picking at your bacne just through impulsive thoughts

"ow! Jesus christ!"

"sorry! it was ready to pop, I swear"

dude Ray loves you two together sm

he's your biggest shipper <3

fuckshit constantly teases you two

I personally hc that fourthgrade is asexual so here's context for the next one

since he's ase (and even if you are two! me too twin) you guys don't take it all that sexual, and gets a little icked when the guys make jokes about you two fucking sometimes

most the time he laughs it off but other days he's just eughhh

and you instantly turn to whoever made the joke and silently shake your head and do the 'you're dead sign' with a respectful face iykwim

he likes staring in your eyes sometimes and getting lost in them

when he's writing movie scripts for fun, he uses you as a faceclaim (along with the other boys tbh) for whatever lead there is or the leads love intrest/best friend. everytime without fail

basically just fanfiction about you two

again like fuckshit, friendship before relationship

matching belts or band shirts

if you also dye your hair fun colors, he dyes it for you

movie nights every night I swear

getting high with him in the dead of night on a friday/saturday night >>>>

hugging him from behind too 💔💔💔

I'm not like trying to infantilize him, he's just a softie for u

stealing shopping carts and bringing them back to skate locations is just a tradition

a lot of times Ray and Fuckshit are busy and they leave ruben and stevie with you so you guys are basically a little family doing fun shit

skating around town, going to the public pool, chilling inside gas stations, renting movies, trauma dumping etc

you're literally just ruben and stevies parents

the ultimate comedy group too 💀

shit, you, fourth, fuckshit and ray are actually way too funny when you're super drunk/high at parties

like you'll be in your own corner watching over ruben and stevie playing uno and start talking about testicul bombs and radioactive cum??? (based on a true story)

alr that's all I got I hope u enjoyed LOL

[thommyalladin-blog]

7 Family Heirlooms People Hate Having in Their Homes

kzenon/iStock

When my parents got married, they were given a number of beautiful wedding gifts that, alas, went straight into their closets to collect dust. One of these gifts-a crystal punch bowl with matching glasses-simply wasn't very useful during the early years of their marriage, and it didn't exactly gain usefulnesslater on once they had kids.

AfterI grew up and moved intomy own place,my parentspassed thatpunch bowl set along to me, thinking I might finally give it some love during an Instagram-worthy dinner party. Alas, it languished in my dining room closet for three long years until-overcome with guilt and sadness over these long-ignored items-I finally brought it out this past Thanksgiving.

As it turns out, I'm not the only one weighed down with sentimental but highly irrelevant heirloomsfrom generations past. As the taste forformal dining roomshaswaned, so has ourappetitefor fine china, fancy silverware, crystal goblets, and other high-end housewares that have long dominated wedding registries. And yet even that stuff is far more useable than some of the other weird things that people have passed down to later generations.

My vintage crystal punch bowl set, set for Thanksgiving 2016

Meghan O'Dea

So what are some other family heirlooms that people hate having in their homes? We asked, and boy did people fess up.

The deceased's ashes

When my father-in-law died, my wife and I inherited her grandfather's ashes, which are a very weird heirloom to have. They live in the same place they did in her father's house-our guest room closet. Jessica Beroldi, Alexandria, VA

Racist antiques

My dad was a professor/priest who was committed to the civil rights movement of the '60s. As such, my grandma thought it was OKto gift his eldest daughter-meaning me-with a family heirloom:a topsy-turvy doll, which aretoys depictingcrudely caricatured African-Americans. Suffice it to say I don't display this in my home. Becky Garrison, Portland, OR

Tacky dishware

Most hated heirloom? Scandinavian engraved crystal glasses with topless mermaids or they might be milkmaids. As a teenager, I got in trouble once for pointing out the nipplesto my sister at family dinner. Daisy Alioto, New York, NY

Daisy Alioto's heirloom crystal glasses

Daisy Alioto

High-maintenance furniture

For me, it was a beautiful set of midcentury blond wood Conant Ball furniture. I loved them at first, but they marked up so easily, like with water or even the press of a fingernail, it gave me anxiety. So when I moved, I decided to unload this stuff.I was so happy to see itgo. Coleen Kane, Brooklyn, NY

Too-large collections

My great grandmother left me a whole house full of amber glass bottles and containers.While the pieces are beautiful and I have incorporated several into my decor, her collection is so extensive-just entirely too much. I was forced tobox them up and move them to the attic! Tiffany Hutton, Chattanooga, TN

Ceramic figurines

Any sort of ceramic figurine is wasted on me. I have one pairdressed inVictorian or maybe Georgian outfits from my grandmother. I hang onto them in casethey might be valuable one day, but they will never be out in my house where people can see them. Anne Rushing, Edinburgh, Scotland

Home decorthat just isn'ttheir style

My husband's grandmother gifted us with this dragon airbrushed ice bucket from her trip to Japan back in the day. It sits on top of a high bookshelf in my guest room. I don't want it looming over me in any of the rooms of the house that I frequent; it's just so not my style. Amy Barger Roberts, Memphis, TN

Amy Barger Roberts' vintage Japanese ice bucket

Amy Barger Roberts

So what family heirlooms do homeownersactually like?

That said, homeownersdon't hate all heirlooms.Here are a few items that people love keeping.

Love letters

I will always cherish a couple of love letters Grandpa sent to Grandma during the war. I love sentimental things that tell stories. Becky Pallack, Tucson, AZ

Vintage books

I have an original, author-signed copy of 'Gone With the Wind' that my grandmother received as a birthday present. It's old and tattered, but I'll never, ever, ever get rid of it. Katka Lapelosov, New York, NY

Katka Lapelosov's heirloom copy of Gone With the Wind

Katka Lapelosov

Holidaykeepsakes

When my mom asked me what I wanted from my grandmother, I desperately asked for a glass candleholder that my grandmother always kept liton Christmas Eve. It's one of my prized possessions, and I use it for decor at Christmas. Sarah Kennedy, Athens TN

Jewelry

I love having a small diamond ring that was handmade in Italy out of a pair of my great-great-great-grandmother's earrings. It's tradition to pass it down, oldest daughter to oldest daughter. Katie Elizabeth, New York NY

Religious items

My grandmother and I were very close. Before she moved to a nursing home, she told me to take her wooden jewelry box, and gave me her plastic rosary and her prayer book. She had the book since the '60s. It even has her old New York Cityaddress. When I look through it, I can imagine her writing in it, and taking notes. She only went to school until fourthgrade, but she knew how to read because of her faith. Sarah Betancourt, Colchester, VT

The post 7 Family Heirlooms People Hate Having in Their Homes appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com.

[lowkeyrobin]

Fourth grade younger sibling reader who gets into a fight at school and basically goes straight to the skate shop because the reader needs their brother and is so upset and the gang all comfort him talking shit about the dudes that beat reader up!!

-♣️

YESYESYESYESYESYES DNNSNSS ilysm ♣️ u need to pop in my inbox more

FOURTHGRADE ; aneurysm

summary ; your older brother, a boy with little common sense, uses his final braincell for good

warnings ; language, censored racial slur, physical fighting

disclaimers ; reader & fg are siblings/sibling figures to each other (whichever you choose, it doesn't matter that much) ; reader calls fg Ryder (his real name as were gonna say) (they don't have canon names and I'm not making one up so I'm just using their actors names) ; reader is about rubens age (13/14 so like middle school ig)

track ; aneurysm, nirvana

word count ; 966

masterlist

You sprint down the sidewalk, dried blood still stained upon the top of your lip. Your throat is cold as you heave your chest up and down for air, your lungs begging you to stop running. You were in no kind of danger now, only infuriated and scared of what had happened to you.

Essentially, you got jumped while walking to your bus after school.

You ran as fast as your legs could take you, hoping that Ryder would be at Motorz with his other friends. If not, you had nowhere else to go.

You pull the front door open with much more force than needed and quickly look around as your brain pounds inside your head. Fuckshit is the first to lay eyes on you, which slightly widen as he looks you up and down.

"Damn n****! Fuck happened to you?" He asks, then turns to the corner where the two couches sit, "Yo, Fourthgrade, Y/n's looking for you"

You walk back to the corner behind the racks of shirts while Ryder's head pops up from his camera. His eyes clearly widen as he sees the blood trailing down your face, staining your grey shirt.

You look at him with crazed eyes, showing him fear and anger. He quickly stands up and stands over you as he tilts your head up to get a better look at your face, fingers resting under your chin.

"Shit, what happened?"

"I got jumped." You say with a flat tone, tossing your backpack down on the floor next to the box TV. You look back at the door, hoping not to see the kids who jumped you minutes earlier waiting for you outside. Thankfully, the coast was clear.

He drags you to the back and grabs a towel, soaking it with cool water. He hands it to you, instructing to wash off all the blood from your face while using the mirror above the sink. He leaves the room for a moment, grabbing some bandages, alcohol and cotton pads from the first-aid kit that sat next to the back door.

You toss the towel in the sink and sit on the ledge as you wait for him. You look at your left elbow, seeing it scraped and bleeding a bit from when you first hit the concrete.

He walks back in, his arms filled with first-aid supplies.

"Run that shit back, what do you mean got jumped walking to the bus?" Fuckshit says, flopping down on the couch in front of you.

You sit on the floor, your feet perched up on Fourthgrade's skateboard, sliding it side to side.

"These assholes have been picking on me for literally ever, and I made a comment in class that kinda referred to them being assholes. I was walking to the bus after school, and they just jumped me and shit." You shrug, head hung low. The bruise over your eye was becoming more apparent.

Fourthgrade shares a saddened look with the other boys, mostly Fuckshit and Ray, silently asking what he should do for you. They both shrug.

"Who- What do they look like?" The cinephiliac asks, fidgeting with the camera in his hand.

"You're not fighting a bunch of 14 year olds for me" You deadpan at him, your head tilted to the right a bit. "Forget it"

"Oh, I'm not fighting them for you" He shrugs, looking over to Ruben. "He will"

"Huh?"

"I will?"

You and Ruben quietly follow your bullies down the halls and outside the school at the end of school on Monday. You share a look while you hold Ryder's camera, keeping quiet as you spoke so they wouldn't hear you as you reach the exit doors.

"What else did they do to you?" Ruben asks, glancing at your bruised eye.

You shrug, "Y'know, subtle bullying shit. Making fun of me, talking shit about me, threatening to fight me, stuff like that"

He nods, turning as they do, catching the eyes of Ray, Fuckshit and Fourthgrade as they walk down toward the middle school, awaiting to meet up with you. Ruben shakes his head, nearly sighing.

"Why'd I fuckin' agree to this?"

You shrug again, "Your answer's as good 's mine"

You flick the camera on as he hands you his backpack, preparing to jump the three kids as the older teens follow close behind you, picking up the pace. You were still surprised that Fourthgrade, the boy who lacked common sense, came up with this whole plan. Ray definitely cleared up some confusion and deserved credit, but Fourthgrade was really the director of this film.

You look behind you at the three teens who nod, then Ruben quickly runs up to the third-wheel looking friend, pulling him in a chokehold. The other two don't notice for a moment until they hear their friend choking and gasping for air, his fingers clawing at Ruben's arm. You pull the camera up, filming as the Hispanic boy attacks the three bullies.

He releases the first from the chokehold, knowing the little ginger would run over helping his friends. The other two turn around and lunge at him as the older teens cheer him on. Ruben is able to put one kid in a headlock and use his free legs to his ability, kicking the other in the dick.

Behind the camera, you cheer him on as well, laughing as your bullies try to fight back. Surprisingly, he was really strong for some wannabe gangster fourteen year old.

"Beat his ass, bro!"

"Kick his balls again!"

"Get him, get him!"

"Go Ruben!"

You turn to look at Fourthgrade, his camera still recording. You send him a smile and mouth a thank you, which he nods in response, his lips curling into a smile as well.

"You're welcome"

[lowkeyrobin]

Mid90s gang reacting to reader writing a book about them and their friendship and reader wins a writing contest!!

- ♣️ (I'm giving you fluff okay I've decided I've tortured you enough with angst 🙄)

LMFAO YES YOU HAVE and I've been procrastinating those oneshots you sent me 💀💀

MID90S ; writer

includes ; fuckshit, ray, fourthgrade, ruben (platonic), & stevie (platonic)

warnings ; language, mentions of alcohol and drugs

masterlist

FUCKSHIT

you were no writer what-so-fucking-ever

while high, he dared you to enter some writing contest for school

"how funny would it be if some random junior won?"

honestly it would be funny, considering you're not a writer, you're a skater

you entered just for the fun of it, plus you had a great chance at beating some of the other contestants because you knew their writing was shit

you didn't even know what to write for the first two weeks

then it popped up in your head, like holy shit it was so obvious

you decided to write about yours and fuckshits long friendship history

from how you met, to your nicknames and to your other friends

let's just say, other than the profanity, the judges/senior english teachers loved it

you wrote like a whole motherfucking novel too

you got second place, considering they'd be in trouble for awarding a book with so much inappropriate content with first

plus the person who won first definitely deserved it

teachers were literally suggesting you publish the fuckin thing too like calm down ⁉️⁉️

fuckshit was too lazy to read it at first, but once you told him it was about you two and that you won second place? nah reading that was all he did

I honestly hc that he's a little dyslexic so he was struggling a little bit

but he loved it, it was genuinely moving to him and its literally about him

brought him to tears that he tried to hide

which he did to help his fragile ego by hugging you and hiding his face in your shoulder

genuinley so grateful for you

RAY

you were kinda iffy with writing

but once you saw the amount of money you could get from winning...?

shit sign me up

a thousand dollars to win first off of something you wrote? okay let's go LMAO

you didn't know what to write about because it's not like there was a given prompt so you just kinda spilled out stories and shit about you and ray

you made sure to leave out all the drugs and shit because you weren't gonna try and get in trouble LMAO honestly real

the judges loved it though

it was about 104 pages, so you made the actual like minimum, which was 80 pages

but thankfully for you, quantity doesn't equal quality

you actually got third surprisingly

that's still 400 dollars though

you didn't actually tell Ray or the others about you joining that contest so when you walked in with 400 dollars, a smile on your face and your skateboard and 52 sheets of notebook paper connected by a keyring under your arm, damn

you quickly explained and set your stuff down and Ray just scooped you up and spun you around while he hugged you

he's a simpleton but you got him giggling and shit okay??

genuinley so flustered that you wrote about you and him of all people like huh

he reads it front to back at least 3 times

FOURTHGRADE

you were pretty passionate about writing

so when your school was promoting a novel contest you knew you had to join

a thousand dollars would've done you a lot

you spent the next six months writing about you and fourthgrade, stories, how you met, favorite memories, random blurbs, etcetera

you told him about it but never that you were writing about him

you wanted it to be a surprise lmao

i also hc that he's a little dyslexic so 💀

you actually won too

apparently it was so "inspiring and moving amongst the youths" that you won ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS for it, IN CASH

you sprinted over to Motorz and immediately wrapped fourthgrade in a hug

"thanks for being such great inspiration"

"huh?"

you genuinley just retold some of his camcorder tapes for a bit of the book too so you had to give him some credit

you gave him 200 dollars because he refused to take any more

the duo

RUBEN

bro couldn't care less that you joined a writing competition

"whatever you want"

you have the annoying sibling dynamic what can I say

"dude I'll give you 100 bucks if you just be supportive"

"fine"

you wrote about him and your awesome sibling relationship

you made sure to cut out all the abuse and just say "growing up in a rough household" and "growing up not as privileged as everyone else" and shit bc you weren't getting cps called on anyone

you wrote like 70 pages

you got third

but you got 200 dollars so you basically split it with him

he ended up reading it because he was bored at motorz one night and you left it laying around

he's never smiled while crying before

you come in the next morning and he just silently hugs you

you see the book thing on the couch where he slept and you just kinda knew

"why are you crying?"

"i'm not!"

STEVIE

you also have a very sibling like dynamic

although instead of annoying each other you're kind of the comfort siblings you've both never had

so when you brought up the fact you joined a writing competition because you had a good chance at winning, he was like "oh cool"

"i'm writing about you"

"what the fuck why?"

he's supportive tho

he'll ask how it's going and stuff and you'll just give a vague answer

by the time they're due and judged, he asks what you placed

you shrug and pull out a thousand dollars cash from your backpack with a smile

"holy shit!"

you smile and hand him half of it

he's confused as to why but accepts it graciously

I mean half of its about him so he deserves some credit

gives you a little hug and shit

[lowkeyrobin]

hey!

idk if you’re still writing but if u are - and have the time - could you maybe write fourth grade or ray seeing the readers sh scars? totally understandable if not :))

ooo yeah sure! ; also I'm still active I promise haha, if I ever had to retire (which will hopefully never happen) I'd probably but a thing in my bio to detail that I'm gone temporarily/permanently ; but yeah, it's all cool, I've written ab sh plenty of times before and I'm fine with writing about it ; decided to do ray on this one cause I've given fg enough attention atm haha ; and thank you for requesting! hope you enjoy!

RAY ; don't hurt yourself again

summary ; he finds your sh scars

warnings ; language, substances, self harm & weapons (razors/scissors iykwim) used (slightly) in detail to cause physical harm

disclaimers ; pre-stevie era

word count ; 1.3k

masterlist

This hot, sunny summer day was no different than any other. Patsy Cline's Walkin' After Midnight rung in your headphones, your cassette player quietly whirring as it plays your mixtape. The summer vibe had finally hit you, inspiring you to get with the theme and listen to some more beachy/summery songs for the season.

Ray always found it funny how you had such a taste for music. He didn't get how certain music was only for certain seasons or only gave you the vibes of a certain time, but he wasn't against it. You were way better at making mixtapes than he was.

Speaking of him, you were on your way to meet him at an abandoned pool you'd found a couple months ago. It was around sunset, the heat wearing down against your back.

Trust, the pool was clean, you made sure of it. But you found it as some hole in the concrete by some unused project apartments, water just sitting stagnant inside. You pick up your pace a bit, wanting to hurry before the sun completely set.

As you arrive, you see Ray, Fuckshit, Fourthgrade, and Ruben, dressed down to their boxers as they fuck around in the water. You wave hello as they welcome you, watching as you strip down into whatever you preferred to wear in the water.

You join them as the moon illuminates the pool, the only other slight source of light being the mostly burned out street lamps.

You end up starting a little water war, with you, Ray, and Fourthgrade against Fuckshit and Ruben. It was mostly just a splash party, with lots of shouting and yelling. Said shouting and yelling earned you a noise complaint, causing police to come deal with you.

"Hey! Hands up, get out of the pool!"

As flashlights are pointed at you all, you quickly scramble out, grab your belongings, and run barefoot down the street to avoid the police. You laugh and yell to one another as you sprint down the road, adrenaline fueling you as you aren't able to feel the rocks in the road wedge into your feet.

You hide in a garden, lit up just enough so you'd be able to put your clothes on properly and be able to tie your shoes. You shove your dry clothes on over your wet ones, attempting to warm up before you begin to freeze due to the cold water soaked in your under clothing.

You notice Ray staring at you a little too long before looking away as you slide your shirt on. You brush it off, maybe thinking he was looking over at one of the other guys, and you happened to be in the way, or maybe he saw a rabbit or a squirrel run through the lawn.

You and Ray separate from Fourthgrade, Fuckshit, and Ruben, as the trio were planning to go to some 24 hour diner to eat dinner before heading home. You and Ray head the opposite way, wanting to go home as sleep slowly creeps up on you both.

Your walk home is mostly silent, warm street lamps lighting your way down the sidewalk. You slowly glide on your board next to Ray, who decides to walk. He shakes his locs out of his face to look up at you.

"Do you hurt yourself?" He asks bluntly, unable to word what he wanted to ask any differently.

"What?" You quickly look at him confused, almost shocked. "No"

"I saw scars on your arms earlier when we were in that garden," He speaks, "Those weren't cat scratches or just rush burns or some dumb shit, those were cuts. It's fine if you don't wanna talk about it, but it's not fine to bottle it up and just hurt yourself. Like, we're here for you, okay?"

You slightly shrug and look away, your foot hitting the pavement as you give yourself a little push. "I don't hurt myself anymore"

"Oh"

You hold back a light smile. "Yeah"

"When did you hurt yourself then?" He asks, almost disappointed in himself that he never caught onto it if it was in the past. "Why?"

You shrug as you give him a blunt explanation. "Long ago. They're just scars for a reason. Life got rough, and I didn't know how else to cope. I was too scared to drink or smoke like you guys, but I was somehow able to hurt myself instead."

He nods. "Sorry"

You nod, "It's cool. I was waiting for it to happen anyways. Just another consequence of my actions, but I've grown and yknow, sappy shit"

He chuckles, "Yeah, yeah."

He pulls a blunt from his pocket, like he'd pulled it from Mary Poppins' bag, considering he just randomly had it and a lighter. He lights it up, puffing it to feel a little calmer about what you'd told him. He was such an extreme empath when it came to shit like this because he knew what the bottom felt like after losing his brother. He understood but didn't know how to help, so he just listened.

The rest of the walk is fairly quiet, the smell of weed filling your noses while the sound of your board rolling on the concrete whirs in your ears.

He waves a slightly awkward goodbye as he walks up to his front porch, knowing you'd stay on the sidewalk until he actually got inside. He grabs at the screen door, pulling on it to realize it was locked. Within the Marry Poppins pockets he had, he surprisingly didn't have his housekey.

He turns back to look at you, giving you a look you knew all to well. You laugh before waving him down to you, offering up your bed for him. He jogs back down the sidewalk to catch up as you'd already drifted away, knowing he'd follow like a lost puppy.

He holds onto your hand as you trail down the neighborhood towards your house, trying to hide the fact that holding your hand was his only comfort that he knew you weren't currently hurting yourself.

You open your front door to let him inside, placing a finger over your mouth to tell him to hush as you walk toward your room. You close the door and hand him some clothes he'd be able to wear to bed, allowing him to go to the bathroom to change while you also change.

You both flop down on your bed, sitting in silence as you stare up at the ceiling covered in glow in the dark stars. A lamp illuminates the room, covering it in a warm blanket.

He turns to look at you. "Do you wanna talk about it at all? Get it off your chest?"

You shrug before answering, "Yeah. I mean, what do you wanna know?"

He shrugs in response. "What'd you use?"

"Scissors, razors, pencil sharpeners. Anything sharp, used a knife once."

"Damn" He mutters. "How often did you do it?"

"About multiple times almost every day" You answer. "I was at the bottom then"

"When was then?" He asks, "A few weeks, months, years ago?"

"Months" You answer carefully. "I'm not anywhere near depressed like that anymore, I swear"

He nods, turning on his side to look at you as you speak. "You know you can reach out for help, right? Like, we aren't gonna yell at you or something, we wanna help you, I promise"

You quickly nod. "Yeah, it's just, when you're that low, you don't think help will actually help. I was worried if I reached out, I'd just be thrown to the side or I'd be yelled at and lose everything I have left."

He nods. "Can you promise me you won't hurt yourself again?"

You smile, appreciating the thought of those words. You hold your pinkie out to him, allowing him to shake his with yours to pinkie promise on it.

"I promise"

[lowkeyrobin]

......you already know what....anyway dancer!reader and fuckshit established relationship. Reader has a full ride scholarship to a really popular and well know dance academy but doesn't tell fuckshit because they planned a party to reveal it. Also fuckshit is very supportive of readers dream but he's going through that phase where he feels that he has nothing going for himself....and then you know the crash happens and reader becomes paralyzed from his waist down (i was gonna do from their back down so he grateful lmao <33) and that's when reader and their parents tell the gang about his scholarship and fuckshit just feels horrible.....reader also doesn't want to see him....ilyy

-♣️

♣️ I hate you. you know I know who you are.

FUCKSHIT ; selfish

summary ; you have a full ride scholarship to a dance academy, as gay as it may sound, you wanted to reveal it to your friends after the skate competition, but it didn't go so well

warnings ; language, car accident, mentions of alcohol, & drugs

genre ; angst

word count ; 1.4k

masterlist

Your mood had been ruined today. You wanted to tell your boyfriend and friends that you'd finally got a scholarship to Juilliard, a dance college, a full ride, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak about it. Stevie and Ruben got in a little fight, Ray wasn't talking to Fuckshit since he was wasted all day and embarrassed him. And you didn't want to talk to anyone now, you didn't want to make the situation any worse.

Fourthgrade sits behind Fuckshit, Ruben next to him, and Ray on the opposite end. Stevie sits in the middle console seat on your left, and Fuckshit in the driver's seat. You sit in the front passenger seat, staring out the window, hoping to God your depressed, drunk boyfriend wouldn't kill you all.

Fuckshit was going through a little phase where he felt like he had nothing going for him, feeling as if he were worthless. All he was living for was partying and drugs, apparently.

You'd been sober for a couple months now, learning that throwing your dreams away because you were mentally unstable wasn't a good idea. You cared about your future while Fuckshit didn't, which started some arguments and fights here and there. You were just worried about him in all honesty, and he'd get jealous that you talked to Ray about the future instead of with him. You needed someone to bounce back on and agree with you, not someone to just nod and half ass listen to you. He was supportive of you and your attempt to make dance your career, but sometimes he didn't know how to properly show it.

You'd been trying to help him find a place in the world, to give him a head start like what you had. You didn't even know what you were doing but you were making an attempt at least.

You imagine you were off at your new school, come two years' time, the new environment, the new people, being able to do the one thing you loved more than skating. It sounded like a dream. It still did, really. All that hard work finally amounted to something, something that you could make yourself out of. You fantasize about your career, yet you're snapped out of it, realizing that leaving everything and everyone you knew was going to be difficult and hurt, a lot.

But now, you listen to Ray, trying to convince Fuckshit to drop you all off at home. You roll your eyes, hearing him mumble something about how you guys weren't gonna ruin his mood.

You turn to the curly haired blonde, tiredness pulling your eyes down. "Dude, stop. Just take us home"

"No! Now you're ganging up on me too?"

"I'm not! Do whatever the fuck you want, dickhead. Just let me out" You speak, unbuckling your seatbelt.

"No!"

"Let me out, right now!" You exclaim, pulling at the handle beside you, seeing the sidewalk right outside.

You hate this, you feel like your parents arguing, your friends acting as you, hiding in silence in the back.

"Pull over, please-"

Your eyes reflect bright headlights, blinding you as you swing your arm over to protect Stevie beside you. Your ears are defeaned by car horns and breaking glass.

You awaken slowly, nurses standing over you, one rushing in food to place in front of you. You notice your face is all tingly, and your arms and hands are covered in bruises and scratches.

You talk to the ladies before they disperse and grant your friends entrance to the room, which smelt like clorox wipes, the lighting an eerie cool. The others had some cuts and bruises here and there, but Stevie's arm is covered by a cast, signed by the other four.

You almost gasp as you see him, "Holy shit, are you okay?"

He nods with a little smile, "Yeah, I'm good"

You blink a bit, looking up to Fuckshit who's unable to look back at you. You scan the others, their expressions somber.

"What? Did someone die or something?" You question them.

Ray looks at Fuckshit, slapping his shoulder to deem him responsible.

The blonde sighs before sitting down next you on the hospital bed, fitted with light blue sheets with a little white pattern. He fidgets with his fingers before looking back up at Ray, who raises a hand towards you and mouths something to him.

Fuckshit finally looks at you, biting the inside of his cheek. "Y'know that scholarship to Juilliard?"

"How do you know about that?" You quickly question, running a hand through your hair.

His gaze shifts down, "Your mom came in earlier and yelled at me"

"What's it have to do with my scholarship?"

"...You can't go anymore"

"Why not?" You ask, the inflection in your voice becoming more stern.

Fuckshit looks back up at the other boys, then back to you. "Uhm, you're paralyzed from the waist down. Doctors said you probably won't walk again"

Your eyes widen as you stare at him in silence, thinking this was some sort of prank to make you not as mad at him for the accident, you're unable to believe him. He watches as you try to move your legs to a criss-cross position, but they remain straight underneath the blue blanket covering you. You look back up at him, feeling an overwhelming sense of anger building in your chest.

"What the fuck?"

He's silent, staring down at his shoes. "I'm sorry"

"You're sorry? You're sorry? You're fucking kidding me! You are a fucking asshole! You selfish piece of shit, I fucking hate you!" You yell, your voice becoming louder and louder as you shout at him. "You fucking selfish asshole! You stole my dream from me, and you think 'I'm sorry' is gonna help you? You can't fix a broken body with a shit, half-assed apology. It's about time you learned that"

Ray holds Stevie a little close, seeing his uneasiness in the hospital and while you were screaming at Fuckshit.

After a moment, the blonde begins to fight back, and once he gets a sentence or two out of just degrading you and blaming you, Ray pulls him back. Fourthgrade hugs you, letting you cry into his shoulder while the two teens talk in the hallway. Ruben and Stevie sit on the other side of you, doing their best to try and comfort you.

"What the fuck? What the hell?" You quickly sputter, digging your fingers into Fourthgrade's arms to try and sense some sort of reality to make sure this wasn't some sick dream.

Eventually, you calmed down a bit, and the scrawny boy decides to cheer you up a bit, as you'd ask, with the little movie he'd been making the past couple of months. He inserted the VHS into the player under the TV, and watched your expression go from teary-eyed to a light smile.

Ray and Fuckshit walk back in, looking like the typical mother and child who just got scolded duo. Fuckshit stands awkwardly at your side, halfway hiding behind Fourthgrade in case you regain motion in your legs and tried to pounce on him.

Ray begins, watching Ruben replay the VHS on the TV for you. "Fuckshit has something to tell you" He glares over at the blonde, taking notice of Stevie turning the volume down some so you could converse.

You look up at him, unable to really hold eye contact for long.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I got wasted and didn't want to listen to you, and I crossed a major line not letting you out the car and shit... I don't have an excuse for saying all that shit to you a minute ago, but it's not how I really feel, I was... I was just trying to win, I guess" He shrugs, pulling at the ends of his curls a bit. "I know you're never gonna forgive me for fuckin', I don't wanna say mutilate..., like, ruining your life, and that's fine. I just wanna see you happy and succeed and overcome this, and I'm so sorry for taking your dream away, and I am selfish for that-"

"Just get out" You mumble, quickly shutting him up. "Please" You look back down at your fidgeting fingers, resting in your lap. "I need to process shit, okay,? Fuck, I don't wanna worry about this right now"

He nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets before leaving with his head hung low.

[lowkeyrobin]

Oneshot where reader is Stevie's Older sibling and it gets angsty cause of the car crash and Stevie fucking DIES which then leads to reader basically lashing out on both their mom and beother and then blames fuckshit and is basically screaming because stevie was basically their child and is just crying over Stevie's body🧍(I made this too angsty for no reason...)

-♣️

you're crazy for this wth. ; listen to is it really you by loathe for this one ; also happy birthday to me!!! I'm 16 now 😔🙏

STEVIE ; is it really you?

summary ; in the crash, your little brother stevie is killed

warnings ; language, sexual jokes/innuendos, car crash, death, fighting

disclaimers ; no romance/all platonic, no established relationship other than siblingship between reader and stevie ; reader and stevie have different fathers obviously so you can look whatever you want to look like

track ; is it really you?, loathe

word count ; 2.6k

masterlist

"C'mon, c'mon! You can do it!"

"Oh my God, I did it!"

"You fucking did it!"

"I did it!"

Stevie runs to you, pummeling you into a hug. You spin him around, his feet of the ground as he laughs and smiles.

"You did it! I told you that you could!"

"I did it!"

He was able to figure out how to balance himself on his hand-me-down boogie board from Ian. He'd been practicing on the side of the road basically all night, trying to figure out how to ride it and not fall off within five seconds.

He looks up at you, a smile painting his face. His bare chest is sweaty, his little prepubescent body heaving as he begs his lungs for air. He hugs you again, burying his face in your chest, as he's much smaller than you.

"Thank you" He mumbles

"For what?" You ask, an eyebrow raised in confusion as you pat his back, just under his left shoulder blade. "You're the one who did it"

"For believing in me, and taking care of me" He answers, looking up at you again. "Love you"

"Love you too, kiddo"

"Ew, don't call me that" He chuckles.

"Sorry, I un-hipped myself. I'm not a cool kid anymore." You dramatically sigh, throwing your hands up in defense.

"You're so weird"

"Don't say that to the one who feeds and clothes you, little man"

"Don't be such a dick, Ian" You grumble, pouring some milk into your bowl of cereal. "We all know it was you"

"Shut the fuck up!" He whisper-shouts, like your mother would ever believe his word over yours or your youngest brother's. "Who eats cereal for dinner at nine?"

"Me, because I have a job, Ian. You should invest in one. Use your time wisely." You reply, an attitude lacing your each and every word.

"Shut the fuck u-"

"I'm paying for that dumbass field trip, pal. Close your mouth." You sternly speak, getting him to effectively shut up.

Your mother turns back to him and sends Stevie into the kitchen with you. You can hear her quietly scolding and grounding him, which he tries to fight and continue blaming Stevie to no avail.

You give the little boy a smile, "How's your day?"

"Good." He smiles, "I met these guys at the skate shop on fifth. I didn't skate or anything, but I think they like me."

"Awe, that's good, Stevie." You lightly smile, holding the milk up in a questionable form with a look on your face, silently asking if he wanted any. "Did I tell you about that chick Angela that I work with?"

He nods to the cereal, then shakes his head to the question.

"Oh my God, okay, so there's this kid... ugh.." You reach up in the cabinet for another bowl while he sits down at the table. "I dunno his name, but she's got some crush on him and will never shut up about it. Like, I'm not your friend, you probably would've bullied me if I was your age"

"Wasn't she the girl who stole your lunch?" Stevie asks.

"Yes! And I'm still mad about it"

You serve Stevie his cereal and head to bed once you're done, having been exhausted by your day at work, plus you had to get up early for a double.

You're awoken from your slumber around 11:30, hearing some sort of grunting across the hall. These walls were paper thin. You were praying it wasn't your mom in her room with some random man again. But these didn't sound like pleasurable sounds, they sounded painful.

You slowly raise your head from your pillow, confusion hitting you like a brick at this hour. The next grunt is louder, leading your suspicion that the sound was coming from your mom's room to be false. You stand up, walk out into the hall, and determine the location of the sound was in Stevie's room.

"You better not be jerking it this loudly, dude," you think, slowly and quietly placing your hand on the doorknob.

You push the door open and look over at Stevie's bed, a mattress on the floor. You see Ian over Stevie, repetitively punching him in the stomach.

"What the fuck?" You exclaim, "Ian! Get the fuck off of him!"

You rush to the youngest boy's aid, pulling the older boy off of him. Ian fights back, the both of you tussling in the middle of the bedroom. He yells in pain as you punch him in the nose, and Stevie runs up to try and separate you two. Your mother then runs in, probably having been awoken by your shouting.

She pulls you away from Ian and you see Stevie fall back onto his bed, clearly scared.

"What in the hell is going on in here?!"

"Mom, calm down-"

"I'm not calming down! Your brother is being given drugs by a group of older boys, probably your age!" She yells, her hand tightly gripping around Stevie's wrist.

"Mom, I'll go down there myself, you're gonna be late"

"No, you're not! You do everything to keep him out of facing the consequences of his actions. He's not going back there again!" She exclaims, pulling him toward the door.

"Make her listen to you" You whisper to him.

You watch the front door slam shut, leaving you and Ian alone in the home. You walk back to your room and grab your keys and wallet, preparing to go to work.

You look out the window, seeing your mom pulling out of the driveway, Stevie in the passengers seat with the most miserable look on his face.

"Christ, Stevie"

He didn't come home that night, but you wouldn't have known since you were working the graveyard shift. Even the next day, you hadn't heard from him at all. You just hoped that he was out skating with his friends, and making good decisions.

You had the day off, thank God. You decided to make dinner before any of the three came home from work or hanging out with friends. By five, you passed out on the couch thanks to the night shift and your exhaustion, plus the melatonin you'd taken to stay asleep.

At one in the morning, you're ripped from your sleep as the phone rings. You groan as it rings again, and stand up to answer whoever oh-so-desperately needed you at this God forsaken hour.

You pick up the phone and hold it to your ear, the sleep inside your brain about to consume you "Suljic residence"

"Hello, is this... Dabney Suljic?"

"Uh, no. This is her eldest kid, I can leave a message?"

"We'd prefer if you or she could come down to the hospital. You can get a hold of your mother here, Stevie was in an accident with some friends. We need papers signed by a legal adult and/or guardian"

Your eyes widen, your brain immediately waking up. 'What? Holy shit, is he okay?"

The man urges you to get down to the hospital, which you do after shoving shoes onto your feet and grabbing a jacket. Every minute that passed felt like an hour, an hour that you could be missing of your little brother's last breathes. You just wanted him to be okay, even if he was hooked up to machines forcing him to breathe and for his heart to keep pumping just a little longer.

You quickly speed through the automatic doors of the building and run to the reception desk, asking where he is and what happened. Apparently, the boys he'd been telling you about had been giving him drugs and alcohol, and the driver, at least, was driving under the influence, and the car flipped.

Now, your brother was living off of life support.

You weren't able to see him, and had to sit in the waiting room. You used every single quarter you had in your car to urgently call your mom, calling around at all her jobs, the home phone, the bar, even. With no answer after ringing the home phone again, and with no quarters left, you sit down, your leg bouncing like crazy.

Your head rests in your hands, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Your brother, basically your own son, was laying in the ER, and you had no idea of the extent to his injuries.

You watch the other boys, his friends, you guessed, walk out of the elevator, and come down to the waiting room. You sit next to the payphone and hope for any call to ring at the front desk, hoping it was your mom, or even Ian for all you cared.

The group of boys sit a little ways away from you, scratches and bruises littering their bodies. You walk back out to your car and scrape a few quarters from your middle console and rush back in, dialing the home phone again.

No answer.

408-299-2929

Finally, a fucking answer.

"Mom? Ian?"

"It's Mom, are you okay, Y/n?" Your mom asks.

"Did you not hear me call the phone fourteen fucking times?" You ask, "Fuck, Stevie is in the hospital. Get down here ASAP, please"

You hang the phone up and sit back down, leaving the spare quarters on top of the machine for others to use. You notice the boys all looking at you, considering your little outburst.

"Sorry," you mumble to them, leaning back in the plastic seat, eyes still on the floor.

"What do you mean he's dead?"

"He's gone, Y/n" Your mother speaks to you, tears falling down her cheeks.

Ian rushes out of the room, headed toward the bathroom, hopefully to have some empathy for once.

You look back at Stevie, laying lifeless in the hospital bed. He looks so peaceful, even with tubes running down his throat and wires stuck to his chest. His chest isn't rising slowly anymore like he was just asleep, he was just... there.

Dabney steps out of the way, as you'd been asleep when he flatlined, due to your exhaustion and overwhelming anxiety. You slowly stagger into the room, having it all to yourself.

The boys outside watch as you step in, shame and disappointment painting their eyes. The curly haired blonde is obviously the most shameful, being in himself for causing this. He'd hurt not only Stevie but Dabney, Ian, and you as well.

You stand next to the little boy's bed, and take a long look at his lifeless body. A hand runs through his fluffy brown hair, which circles down to rest behind his ear and on his jawline.

Tears fall from your eyes as you lean down, your other hand resting under his jaw.

What kind of last words were "make her listen to you"? He deserved better, especially from you.

"I love you, Stevie. I'm so proud of you. I'm-" You choke on your sobs, "I'm gonna miss you. I'm gonna miss you coming home and telling me all about your day, and going to the fair with you, and buying you snacks at the gas station"

He doesn't answer, his body becoming colder and much more pale over time.

"I'm never going to forget you, okay? Everywhere I go, everything I do, you'll be there. You'll see the world and what it had to offer you, kiddo."

You hug his cold body, wanting to imagine his arms happily wrapping around you again like he just successfully did his first kickflip again. But he never wraps his arms around you with a smile. His laughter only echoes in your mind.

You pull away and place a kiss on his forehead like you did when he was little, when you'd tuck him into bed all the way up til he was ten or so.

"Goodnight, I love you"

Not adding the "see you tomorrow" shattered your heart into a million pieces as you stepped outside, trying to keep your tears contained.

You wrap your arms around your mom, seeing her still crying as she was waiting for you. She gives you a little nod, needing to sign a million papers confirming his death and plans for everything else.

You sit down where you were at earlier, seeing the group of boys looking at you. The first to approach you is a dark-skinned boy with locs, wearing a blue hoodie and dark pants.

"Are you Y/n?" He asks softly, sitting next to you.

You nod.

"Sunburn told us a lot about you. I'm sorry for your loss"

"It's okay" You nod, wiping the tears from your eyes while you could. "Uhm, sorry, who are you?"

"Oh, he was uh, friends with us. Skate group," He clarifies. "My name's Ray"

"What... happened?" You ask him, "Like, what was his last day like" You speak quietly, almost too scared to hear it.

"Uhm, your mom brought him over to Motorz, went all crazy about drugs and the fingering-"

"Fingering?" You ask with confusion.

"Uh, I'll tell you about that another time, yeah?"

You nod, begging for him to continue.

"I talked to him for a while after he was done throwing his board around all upset. We skated til maybe ten, fell asleep on a fountain, and used our boards as pillows. Next morning, we went back to get with the others and go to a skater meetup type thing. A bunch of skaters and friends meet up to do drugs, smoke, drink and shit."

You nod, fidgeting with your fingers a bit.

"He got mad fucked up, thank Fuckshit" He mumbles, glaring at the curly haired blonde a few feet away. "Uh, got in a little fight with Ruben" He points over at a boy in a grey sweatshirt, hair buzzed. "Uh, got him to chill out with Fourthgrade for a while til the sun set" He looks back at another boy, about his age, with bleached hair and some pink streaks in it.

"Is that when...?"

He nods. "I tried to just get Fuckshit to take everyone home, we were all miserable, he wouldn't listen. He could barely keep his eyes open, and..."

You nod. "Thank you. I needed to hear it in detail, they wouldn't tell me shit"

He nods again, rubbing your shoulder as a sign of comfort. You could tell he'd gone through something similar like this, it was all spoken in his heartbroken eyes.

Fuckshit walks over, a look of self shame, regret, and sadness in his eyes. "Sorry, I'm Fuckshit. I just wanted to say sorry for your loss, and I wanted to share my condolences. " He speaks, hands tucked away in his pockets. He's clearly nervous, yet taking in your look as he'd never met the infamous Y/n that Stevie always talked about.

"He talked about you a lot, he really loved you, man. I'm so sorry-"

"Sorry for what?" You ask with a snarky tone. "Sorry for killing my brother? Sorry for taking away the only thing that kept me functioning in this fucked up world?"

He steps back a bit, not speaking for himself. He didn't want to cause any trouble, especially after what he did. His head hangs low as all of the boys look at him. Ray looks nearly disgusted.

"You're the kid who killed my brother?" You ask, standing up quickly as Ray follows your actions, trying to de-escalate the situation as much as he could.

Fuckshit solemnly nods.

"Go fuck yourself. I hope you learned your lesson, Fuckhead" You spit, quickly making your way toward the doors to go sit in your car and sob at eight in the morning.

Ray gives Fuckshit a gross look and a shake of the head before chasing after you, wanting to make sure you were alright. Fourthgrade sits quietly in his seat, fidgeting with his camera while Ruben next to him bites at his nails.

"Shit..."

[michelleinterrupted]

FOURTHGRADE (MID90S) MASTERLIST

- fourthgrade headcanons