#i have no written for ikeshot in so long

[kellyscowboy]

Hiii!! You’re my favorite ikeshot person! You write their personalities and dynamic so well!!

could you write something based on the song the 30th by Billie Eilish? the story behind the song is someone gets into a really bad car wreck(or accident of some sort) and the aftermath of it

hii!! i meant to answer this sooo long ago but i got caught up w/ school & have also been in a sims 4 grind LMFAO. thank you so much for this request!! i apologize if this is a little off from what you may have expected or what i have written in the past. it's been a hot minute since i've written this dynamic so pls bare w/ me :'). again, thank you so much for this request! i appreciate you & your support <33333

i wasn't sure if you wanted this to be modern!au or in the canon au, but i made it canon. so it doesnt EXACTLY follow the lyrics. but essentially follows the point of the song!! ALSO!! @sparkedblaze this is also for you because you are the reason i write for ikeshot <3

CW: blood mentioned, car accident mentioned, uhhh probably cussing i lowkey don't remember tbh, UHH sad gays idk i forgot how to do this

Hotshot couldn't help but stare. It made him sick to do so, but he couldn't stop. It was like watching a gruesome fight that you couldn't tear your eyes away from. Except it was Ike. His Ike. All bruised, cut, and bloodied; scrawled out pathetically on a hospital bed. He was all but disfigured. All but unrecognizable.

But often times he had this look about him, and Hotshot couldn't help but think he looked the exact same as he did before the accident. He would just look off into the distance, similar to how he used to look at the stars before everything. Occasionally he would squirm under his boyfriend's intense stare. But outside of that, he said and did nothing. He wouldn't move an inch until a nurse came to make him eat, or until Hotshot would force him to use the bathroom.

"We don't need ya kidneys to fail, now. You'se already been through enough."

It made Hotshot nauseous to take care of the boy. They had never been in this position before. Usually, it was Hotshot laid up with a broken bone or some odd illness nobody else got. And Ike was always right at his side. It didn't feel right when the roles were reversed. Not to either of them.

Ike was knocked out for a long time. The doctors and nurses started to doubt he would ever wake up. They had begun to prep Hotshot for the worst, not that he ever listened to them. All he did was sit, stare, and pray to whatever god was listening that his boy would wake up.

When he did finally wake up, the hospital was in a frenzy. There was a hushed, excited buzz about the air. All the nurses would linger by the doorway of his room and gossip about his 'miraculous awakening.'

The second his eyes opened, he was bombarded with numerous questions from the doctors. They were long, confusing questions that contained words that Hotshot could hardly believe were real. Ike was quickly overwhelmed. Tears teetered on the brink of his eyes and his breathing became rapid.

"Would ya stop pesterin' him for a second? He just woke up! What's wrong with the lotta ya? Huh? Ain't you supposed to be professionals? Let the boy breathe!" Hotshot yelled as he jumped to his feet. "He ain't just some medical miracle, alright? He's a person just like you 'n me. Give 'im a second."

One by one, the doctors and nurses began to shuffle out of the room. Each one glancing over their shoulders as they left. Hotshot could hear their gossiping whispers outside the door as he sat down closer to Ike.

"What's happenin'?" Ike asked. His voice was small, hoarse, and confused.

Hotshot furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed his lover's hand. "What'dya mean? Dont'cha remember? You was hit by one of them fancy new electric carriages."

Ike's initial confusion turned into a quick look of horror as he caught a glimpse of his bruised arms. "But... I'm alive right? I'm here? This is real?" The boy had started to freak out. He analyzed his arms, turning them every which way. He leaned forward, wincing as he did, and yanked the cover off his legs. It wasn't a pretty sight, and Hotshot had to stop himself from dry heaving just from seeing his boyfriend in such a state.

Gently, Hotshot pulled the blankets back over the boys legs. "You'se alright, Ike. For a couple of days there, I was worried. You'se was knocked out cold. But ya alive now. That's all that matters. You're alive." He wanted to do something. Squeez the boys hand, give him a pat on the leg... something. But he couldn't in fear of hurting the boy further. So, he just nodded and flashed him a forced, tight smile. "I think ya oughta lay down. You get yourself too worked up sometimes. It'll get worse if ya don't relax a little."

The other boy couldn't help but let out a laugh. He grabbed his chest in pain after he did. "Sounds like somethin' I'd usually tell you."

"Right." Hotshot rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, I reckon them so-called professionals out there are gonna wanna ask ya some questions. I'll make sure they go easy on ya, yeah?"

Ike nodded and closed his eyes as the other boy got up to let the doctors back in. He took a deep breath, once again wincing in pain, and prepared himself for the horror that would be the next few minutes.

Hotshot often felt ashamed when looking back on the day of the accident. None of it was his fault. He was often reminded by the Brooklyn boys that there was no way he could've known. But he felt as though he should've. That he should have seen the conjugation of people and he should've known. He should've listened to his gut telling him it was someone he knew. Someone important. Should've ran up and helped. But he didn't.

"It was a Tuesday, Hotshot." Spot had told him in the hospital. "Ya never could'a known. He ain't never come over to visit on a Tuesday. 'Specially not so early. Quit beatin' yerself up about it."

Even Mike had come and talked to him. Usually, they just sat there together in complete silence. But even Mike knew it wasn't his fault. "Listen, I know we ain't close but I gotta talk to ya about this. Spot told me what happened. That you'd seen the accident but didn't think nothing of it and..." He paused. Hotshot prepared himself to get screamed at. Berated for being an absolute idiot and not helping the others brother. But the ambush never came.

"It ain't ya fault," Hotshot continued. "Honest. Ya know I'd scream and kill ya if it was. Ain't no way you coulda took one look at the scene and knew it was him. Hell, I'm his twin brother and I didn't even get the sense that something was wrong 'till Scram came runnin' to tell the news." He sighed again and took another pause. "Even if ya had known. Even if ya had gone and tried to help, what could you have done? Huh? Ya ain't a professional. Situation woulda been the same any way about it."

Hotshot nodded. He understood them. He understood everyone who had come to talk to him. Deep down, he knew it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't stop beating himself up about it.

He relived the day in his head almost every single night. It was a normal Tuesday. Up as early as the birds, carrying the banner and collecting pity from people wandering the streets. He had seen the commotion early in the day. In fact, it had been right after he had bought his papers for the day.

It's far too early for this, he recalled thinking. There was always something going on in New York. Especially in Brooklyn and especially around the circulation buildings. Typically, it was a rough fist fight between two newsies, and at its worst it was a robbery of some sort. But neither of which would cause such a big commotion nor gathering of police and medical personnel.

Hotshot knew deep down something was wrong. He felt drawn to the accident, but he put it aside as his love for fights. Which is what he assumed it was. A big fight that got out of hand. Maybe one that had contanied multiple newsies instead of just two, or that had somehow gotten an adult of importance involved.

But he ignored the calling to the scene. He had a stack of papers on his bicep and they weren't going to sell themselves. Besides, the quicker he was done with work the quicker he could join Ike at Jacobi's. He hadn't even really thought of stopping to see what had happened. Just that it might be something interest, but not something he could be bothered to stop for.

Just thirty minute later, he heard Scram's pattering feet behind him. He turned quickly on his heel, looking down at the boy. He had a horrified look on his face and his cheeks were stained with tears. The boy began to speak, sputtering and rambling over himself. "It's- Ike- Well, he- It was a car- And-"

Hotshot's blood ran cold at the mention of Ike's name. The papers on his arm hit the ground with a thump and sent dust flying into the air around them. "Ike? What about Ike?" Scram began to cry again, flailing his arms and pointing behind him. Hotshot's heart sank. "Scram, spit it out! I need to know what happened!"

"There was an- an accident! He got hurt, real bad. Barely looks alive. He keeps askin' for ya! Ya gotta go! Quick! They're loadin' him into the ambulance!"

"Where, Scram? Where?"

Scram's face was red and covered in snot. "Right outside the circulation building!"

Hotshot's heart sank even farther, something he hadn't believed to be possible. "Listen to me, Scram. Listen good. You go run and you don't stop running 'till you find Mike, alright? You tell him everything. You tell Manhattan everything. Okay?" He didn't even wait for the boys response.

He abandoned his dropped papes as he sprinted as fast as he could back to the circulation building. As he arrived at the scene, he couldn't help but be angry. He pushed his way through the crowd, screaming obscenities and demanding they let him into the ambulance. Police tried to hold him back when he finally made it to the front.

"He's been asking for me! They told me he's been asking for me! I'm Hotshot! Ya gotta let me in!" Hotshot screamed. "His family's all the way in 'Hattan! Ya can't let him go alone! He'll be scared!" Before he could stop himself, he screamed: "Ya can't let 'im die alone!"

Upon hearing the last bit—and discussing the boys name, which the injured boy had been groggily repeating over and over again—the officers let the boy through. Hotshot climbed into the back of ambulance and gripped onto the other boys hand.

"Ya think I'm gonna die?" Ike sputtered out, blood covering his mouth. "I- Mike's gonna be so mad. He ain't gonna have no-one."

Hotshot realized what he had yelled previously and began to panic. "Nah, nah. Ya ain't gonna die, Ike. You'se too strong to, okay? I just said that so they'd let me through. That's all. You'se gonna be just fine."

"I'm scared, Hotshot. I'm really scared."

"Hey, don't say that. You'se gonna be alright. Don't be scared. I ain't! I know you'se gonna be just fine. Okay." But the truth was, Hotshot was horrified. He hadn't been so scared in his entire life. He dropped his voice to a whisper as he continued to speak. "Ya still look so pretty, ya know that? Gorgeous, Ike. Ya gorgeous."

After hearing Hotshot's whispers, the boy took a deep, choked breath and closed his eyes.

After Ike finally woke up, he often thought aloud about what would've happened among different circumstance. Hotshot hated hearing it. He hated thinking about how, if the situation had only been slightly different, Ike could've died.

"What if it had been on Thursday? Someone else coulda been drivin' it. Goin' faster, not have slowed down or stopped. Coulda taken me straight into the next life."

"Would ya stop that?" Hotshot muttered. His face was deep in his hands.

Ike paused for a couple of minutes before speaking up once again. "I coulda been on ya bridge. They coulda sent me straight over into the water. I don't even know how to swim now. Imagine it with broken bones..."

"Ike."

"I coulda been in that neighborhood where all them families lived. Some little kid coulda found me and not told anyone cause they'd be scared they'd get in trouble or something."

"Ike."

"If it had been winter and it was snowing or rainin'. And the car had skidded, lost control. Hit me full speed."

Hotshot had started to tear up and his composure was breaking. "Ike, please." He begged in a broken voice.

But Ike couldn't help himself. He was spiraling. "Or if I was on one of them backroad nobody goes on. Nobody woulda even seen it happen. If just a small little thing was different, I'd probably be-"

"Ike!" Hotshot finally yelled. "Stop. You need to stop. I can't keep doin' it. Can't keep listenin' to ya kill yaself in your daydreams. You're alive, okay? You're alive. So just shut up! Because there's no life, no reality where I'm letting ya die. Alright? Especially not at the hands of some rich idiot's fancy car. So just... stop."

Ike nodded, his voice small. "Sorry. I just... I'm just freaking out. I dunno if I'm meant to be alive right now."

Hotshot sighed. "Listen. You'se the great person alive." He sat down and gently took ahold of his boyfriends hand. "If anyone in this world's meant to be alive, it's you. Alright?" He kissed Ike's hand and wiped at his eye with his own hand. "You're alive, Ike. Don't think about anything else. We got a buncha years ahead of us. Don't worry 'bout nothin' else."

[willowistic22]

mercy bullet

a newsies zombie apocalypse au fanfiction

The United States is turning into a warzone against the uprising of the infected and the twin brothers, Mike and Ike, are separated from across the country as they fight for their survival in their own way. Mike becomes a nomad and escapes his old college campus with his friends, while Ike hunkered down in his campus with his friends and fortified it even further . One was constantly on the run to look for a place to settle down, the other was shielded while desperate to look for answers to the apocalypse they're in. The chances of them running into each other are low, however it's never zero...

Read on my ao3:)

Trigger warnings!!: guns, cuss words, violence, apocalypse, injuries, death mentions, character death, near-death experience, blood, sex jokes (no sex, just jokes bcs i'm immature and still think they're funny), parental trauma, mentions of ableism, and basically a lot I'll try my best to tag accordingly

A/N: Oh my fucking god I've teased this for so long and I'm finally finding the courage to actually start posting the chapters lol. It's not professionally written (I'm not a professional author ok?) and it's probably have a ton of holes in it though I tried my best to patch things all up while i was writing the first few several chapters. But do feel free to ask for more elaborations about any holes because tbh i'd love to talk about this piece. This is mostly a mike and ike brotherly guilty pleasure fanfiction with jomike and ikeshot sprinkled around so i'm not really hoping for a lot of people to enjoy it but oml these cahracters/ships are underrated pls give it a shot. Hope you enjoy it regardless! :)

[willowistic22]

Hey :)

For your post concerning Ikeshot - would you maybe consider writing an Ikeshot Soulmate AU during the canon era?

Thanks in advance

left this in my drafts for the whole month bcs i was doing no content november which was definitely not used as an excuse of me not wanting to fight off my writers block heheheheheheheh spoiler alert : it was. but i got around to write this one so i hope it suffice! i mean i hope so bcs it ended up being 2.5k words long lol! 

So pls enjoy my canon era ikeshot soulmate au! the concept is where soulmate marks are in the form of the first things your soulmate says to you when you guys meet. also ik this will kinda flop since it’s a rarepair but pls do your best to not let it flop :) 

Ike doesn’t like the thought of soulmates. Not one bit. Well, at first he liked the idea of having someone out there waiting for him. He doesn’t need a mark of any kind to tell him that. He knows it on his own terms. But there was a little bit of excitement that exploded in his stomach when his soulmate mark appeared on his forearm. And it was… weird to say the least. 

He got his mark a year earlier than his twin brother, right on their 13th birthday. A delicate black writing engraved in the skin of his forearm. The soulmate mark stories he has ever heard were about people with sweet sayings engraved in their skin. It was all romantic, innocent, and soft spoken words tread lightly by the lips of their lover to be. But Ike’s? It was downright strange. None of those sappy and sweet stuff people say when the subject is about soulmates. Which is why Ike never bothered showing it off. He has heard enough jokes from Mike about that text. 

And here’s the kicker for his situation: despite getting his soulmate mark a year earlier, Mike was somehow granted the gift of getting a sweet soulmate line and meeting his soulmate first! That really pissed Ike off. 

He’s left with his thoughts on that subject this evening, carefully holding up his forearm while he lies on the top bunk he and his brother call their own. The words on his forearm echoes inside of his brain as he strokes the ink on his skin, blocking out the loud Lower Manhattan lodging house. He’s bound to meet his soulmate eventually. He’s sixteen for crying out loud! Mike met his when they were fifteen. So this mysterious soulmate of his has to turn up any time now. They have to. Ike doesn’t know how much longer he can keep himself entertained with stringless flings and flirtings with random guys in secret. 

Ike sighs desperately, dropping both his arms above his head and onto his thin pillow. He wished he was tired enough to go to sleep already since he doesn’t have anything to do before the lights go out in the lodge. He peaks down towards the lower bunk. Ike sees his brother fast asleep, cuddled into his lover’s embrace. Two chests, rising and falling at their own different slow pace. 

It’s not that Ike ever had a problem with Mike’s soulmate, the only problem is that Ike hasn’t met his and constantly feels lonely with the presence of the couple. Ike didn’t believe his brother when he said his soulmate turned out to be Jo Jo. Not only is Jo Jo practically a total opposite of Mike, Jo Jo is also out of his league. There’s no way a kind hearted, properly brought up, bright smiled boy would end up with a scruffy idiot like his brother. But the more time he spends with the two, the more he sees how compatible they are with each other. 

Ike is happy that they found someone to make each other happy, even in their sleep. He’s just sad for himself that he hasn’t found the one for him yet. Third wheeling is the worst thing Ike has ever discovered in his life. 

He sits back up properly, letting both legs dangle freely down the bunk. Ike puts on his newsie cap and his vest that was left hanging on the bedpost before jumping down the bunk. 

Unfortunately he wasn’t being careful and accidentally woke someone below him from the loud thud his feet made when it came in contact with the old wooden floor of the lodge. 

“Where are you… going?” a voice groaned.

Ike turns his head towards the lower bunk to see Mike lifting his head up slightly from where it was resting, rubbing his eyes a little bit to enhance his vision. He’d sit up straight, but one of his hands is strapped down to the mattress by a certain head full of brown curls. 

“Not tired yet. Think I’ll get myself busy” Ike replied. Before turning back to his original direction, he catches his brother’s eyes before he lets himself fall back asleep again, “Got a pack?” 

Mike snorts to himself with an eye roll, but it ends with a low chuckle. He gestures his head towards his vest left hanging up high on the bedpost, “Check my vest. I’se think there’s still half in there” 

Untangling the vest from itself, Ike sees one of its pockets forming a rectangular shape through the fabric. He slips his hand in it and fishes out a pack of cigarettes. His hand doesn’t feel the usual light weight of the tiny box he usually feels after getting himself a fresh pack. This one feels so much lighter, like there’s a lot of room in it. But Ike could still feel a few stems moving inside. 

“Don’t finish the whole thing” Mike added. 

Ike simply smirks down at him, turning around with the pack in hand. He calls out, “No promises!” 

“Pay me back if you do finish it!” 

“Also no promises!” 

“Little shitter” 

Ike turns his head around, and an offended look on his face as the twins’ old inside joke has resurfaced from the past. In the calmest way possible, yet still obviously annoyed, Ike voices out, “Fuck off, alright?” 

“No promises!” 

Mike laughs at his brother’s obvious annoyance. At the same time, Jo Jo starts to stir in his sleep. He stops laughing, directing his full focus on the boy shifting in his arms. Jo Jo groans as he flips to face away from Mike, letting out a long and peaceful sigh once he gets comfortable. 

Ike watches as his brother lays back down, holding Jo Jo a little tighter than before. The couple is enveloped back by their slumber just like before. 

There’s that jealousy resurfacing in Ike’s heart as his eyes linger at the sight of the lower bunk. But despite it, he is actually happy to see Mike like this. Being happy with his soulmate doing whatever. It’s a different kind of happy. It’s the kind that Ike longs for. 

He pushes that thought away for a while, walking through the loud lodging house. Some newsies went to sleep earlier, somehow being able to ignore all the commotion caused by their friends. Some are also just hanging out with others while they wait for the lights to go out. 

Ike chooses to be alone this evening. Accompanied by a cigarette or two, and maybe his own thoughts he’d like to sort out. He’d walk out the front door downstairs to smoke in an alleyway, but he knows the downstairs are currently occupied. Jack had warned everyone to avoid going downstairs because the borough leaders are having a little meeting. 

So Ike decides on the fire escape, since it already leads directly to the alleyway. Ike slips out the window, instantly noticing the lovely evening air. His only view is a dull brick wall with trash scattered around the ground, but he doesn’t really mind as the street ambience makes him feel less lonely. 

He notes the fire escape being a little wet, since it previously did rain a bit. He nearly slipped when he first stepped on the metal bars, but was able to balance himself pretty quickly. 

But to no avail, his feet clumsily slips away from their grip on the fire escape. It sends him falling down with a loud yelp, passing through the little gap in the fencing reserved for the ladder and onto the concrete floor in the dirty alleyway. 

Ike was disoriented when he rose back up from his fall. One hand on the ground to help support his back as he recovers from the impact, and the other rubbing the pain on his head away. He realized the pack of cigarettes is long gone. What he doesn’t realize is why the fall isn’t as painful as he thought it would be. 

He glances over to his legs, which he realized just now that it was tangled with something else. Someone else. They were groaning in pain as they rose back up. He catches a glimpse of the face once it was finally lifted off the ground, smudge by a little bit of mud. 

Oh shit.

Ike fell on another boy who obviously looks like he’s twice his own size. Not that he thinks he can’t take him on in a fight if he asks for one, but right now he’s too disoriented to even figure out how to punch straight. He quickly gets up on his feet, giving the stranger some space so he can recollect himself. 

“Oh look, the universe has thrown me a little shitter from the sky to ruin the rest of my already shitty day! Is there anything you can possibly do to magically make it better?!”

The words were uttered as the stranger got back up on his feet, revealing himself to be a tall and muscled figure. The mud also got on a little strand of his dark brown hair and his eyes were squinted with fury. But Ike wasn’t focused on any physical features this stranger has. He’s more focused with the words that he uttered. Words that Ike knows by heart by now. 

“What?” The stranger growled, deep and raspy. He realized the boy was astonished by something, but was certain it isn’t in any form of fear. 

“Do you have any idea how much shit I get with that written on my hand?! It made me look like I’m a fuckin’ dumbass my whole life!” Ike started his little rant, a little bit of rage building up from the pits of his stomach, “Oh, but of course I’se stuck with a huge asshole that doesn’t know how to be a decent human being and give a guy a break!” 

The stranger stays completely still, lips slightly parted. 

“How do you think I feel with that?” 

He shows his soulmate mark on his right forearm to Ike. A smaller font size and a longer paragraph written on his skin. Ike almost wanted to laugh. 

“Hey!” 

The two boys turn their attention towards the sound. Just outside the alleyway, right on the sidewalk where the rest of the world is, three tall men stood. There isn’t enough light for either boys to identify who they are, but given from the vague shadow they can sense trouble. 

As the three men take a few steps closer, letting a little lamp stuck to the wall illuminate their figures, they reveal themselves as the bulls. 

The boys activated their flight instinct, running towards the other end of the alleyway. The bulls chased after them while telling them to stop. Ike, being the smaller one, runs ahead and leads the chase. Hopping from one sidewalk to the other, crossing the roads without looking. 

Jacobi’s deli came into view in the corner of the block, despite being unlit. Ike kept running towards that corner and took a sharp turn. He makes another sharp turn towards an alley, just next to the deli. He hides in a little corner the deli has created. He has gotten away from so many troubles by hiding in this ‘wall bump’ because people miss it easily. 

He was surprised to see a large figure stopping right next to where Ike was hiding, huffing out heavy breaths of exhaustion. Ike said nothing at first, thinking it’s one of the bulls. He simply watches the figure hunching over their knees, trying to recollect themselves from the chase. 

But after a few seconds, he realizes it was the same boy he just met at the alleyway. His soulmate. To that, he widens his eyes and gasps under his breath. 

Oh crap, if he keeps on standin’ there we’ll get caught! 

“Hey!” Ike whisper shouted. 

The boy was still disoriented from all that running, but he was still able to pick up the voice. 

He saw Ike hiding in the corner, but didn’t think much of it. To that, the smaller boy just rolled his eyes and grabbed him by his suspenders to pull him to the little corner to hide together. 

Ike peaked behind the little wall hiding them to see if the bulls that were chasing them had passed. Just as he suspected, they were clueless as to where they could be. The bulls went past the alleyway. Until Ike was sure that they’re gone, he lets out a relieved sigh and turns back to where he is.

He was surprised to be met by a chest, but soon remembered that he had another boy hiding with him. A very tall one. 

Ike looks up to his face. The details are much clearer now. Brown locks, strong jawline, brown eyes, ivory tinted face with a few smudges of ash and dirt. The face sculptured... so perfectly. 

Ike only realized this now. Staring up at it, taking in every detail before him. Cheeks a little heated up when his head realizes how close they’re being. Chest to chest and Ike is up against a wall. 

And the other boy… he stared back. Just as frozen and shocked as he is. 

“I-I didn’t catch your name earlier” Ike mustered up the last bit of concentration to get that out. 

“My friends call me Hotshot” 

“Hotshot…” Ike repeated, nodding along without getting his eyes off of him. 

“But… you can call me Tyler. Y-y’know if you… wanna use my real name” Hotshot said with a little awkward cough at the end. 

“Oh…”

Ike has no idea what’s happening right now. All he knows is there’s a cute guy right in front of his nose, who is his so called soulmate. They’re hiding in an alleyway, and neither seems to want to move away. They were both caught off guard by the beauty their eyes are being presented with in front of them. 

“I-I’m Ike, by the way…” Ike added on, realizing he hasn’t said his name yet, “It’s short for Isaac. Y’know, ‘cause my twin brother calls himself Mike and we wanted to-- y’know what? That’s too long to get into…” 

The two share a heartfelt laughter. Their hearts pumping faster than before, the other being able to feel it right through their chest. 

“So uhh… Ike…” Hotshot started, still staring down at the smaller boy, “About what I said earlier…” 

Ike started to laugh, remembering what he meant. 

“I’s want to apologize… is all” 

“Y-yeah, the same goes for me!” Ike added, “Well, I don’t know if we should even apologize. We were supposed to say that to each other anyways!” 

Another heartfelt laughter, sounding softer than the first one. It somehow made the moment even more serious as it slowly died down. Their gaze hasn’t left the other’s. Nor, does it seem like they want to in the first place. 

“Ike, can I… try somethin’?” Hotshot suddenly asked. 

Ike simply nods, not having any clue as to what he meant. The message behind that was soon cleared the moment Hotshot softly crashed his lips against his, pushing his head backwards and gently pinning it to the wall behind him. Ike moves his hands up to pull him by his suspenders. Hotshot brushes his finger on his jaw, angling him up for a better kiss. Their lips moved in sync perfectly and it felt good. Just like how they would picture a first kiss shared by a soulmate. 

[violetwolfraven]

eek also this is a lot but ikeshot for 7, 14, 26, 33, 39 or 43?

Angst in general.

Nightmares.

You have a scar and I asked about it and it’s really angsty.

I thought I lost you and you need to be more careful you dumbass.

and

You fought me (verbally or physically) and I am s h o o k.

*cracks knuckes* aight then.

I haven’t written ikeshot yet! This’ll be my first time figuring out how I wanna portray their dynamic, so we’ll see how it goes.

I’m gonna do all of them except 33 cause that one doesn’t really work with the idea I have but I can combine all the others.

...

This wasn’t the first time Ike had stayed the night in Brooklyn, but it was the first he’d been woken up by a jolt.

It had taken him months to get this far, the point where he was sharing a bed with a Brooklyn boy, where he was pretty sure he was in love with said Brooklyn boy, where he was even welcome in Brooklyn after dark.

It had been a long and confusing road, starting a couple weeks after they won the strike.

See, Mike did this thing with his lover where they were super paranoid about getting caught. And yeah, that was good for safety, when courting a boy could get you killed or arrested, but Mike and Jojo took it to a whole new level, almost never even sitting on the same side of a room while outside the Lodging House.

And as much as Ike liked that his brother was keeping safe, this was also really fucking annoying, because it meant he had to deal with the pining.

So, he’d asked to tag along to Sheepshead with Race for a day, figuring a day of alone time with his boy might tone down Mike’s annoyingness a little. And Race occasionally took a partner to Brooklyn with him, anyway. He hadn’t done it in a while, but nothing bad had happened before.

And besides, since the strike, inter-borough relations had been better than ever out of a proud kind of solidarity. No big deal, right?

Wrong. They’d split up for maximum efficiency, and barely an hour later Ike was getting dragged away from the entrance to the races he was staking out and into an alley across the street, by which time he was getting thrown against a wall before he even got a look at who was dragging him.

Then he’d looked up, already raising his fists, and seen probably the tallest boy in New York.

Ike had remembered seeing him at the rally, this kid about his age who usually stuck pretty close to Spot Conlon, and he’d made the mistake of lowering his guard.

“Hey! I remember you! You’s Brooklyn’s second, right? What was your name again? Uh... Heat?”

This kid smirked, “Hotshot.”

Then he’d punched Ike in the face.

It was hard enough that Ike was knocked to the ground, but he was on his feet again in an instant, raising his fists again.

“I’m Ike,” he panted, “And I’m here—“

He’d been cut off by having to dodge another punch, trying to throw one of his own, but only getting kneed in the stomach after Hotshot blocked it.

Still, he’d raised his fists again, coughing as he tried to ignore the urge to curl in on himself.

“Don’t know when to give up, do ya?”

Ike smiled, still gasping for breath, “Nope! Don’t mean we have to fight, though.”

Hotshot just punched him again, “You’re on the wrong side of the bridge, Manhattan boy.”

“And that’s grounds enough to soak someone?”

“Hey!”

At that point, Hotshot froze, turning to see Race running into the alley.

“He’s with me, Hotshot! Jeez!”

“Well, he didn’t say—“

“Ya didn’t give me a chance to,” Ike interrupted.

Race had helped Ike up, glaring at the Brooklyn boy despite how Hotshot was much taller and stronger.

“I ain’t gonna tell on you, but kid, you need to learn to think before ya start swingin’. If Spot asks about me, I’m sellin’ with Albert today.”

Race had helped Ike get home, then actually gone to sell with Albert, but on the way back, he’d answered Ike’s questions, about how someone that young and hotheaded could help lead the biggest borough in New York.

“Hotshot’s young, you’re right. He’s your age, actually—14. And yeah, he’s defensive. But I’s known him a while, and there’s more to him than that. The short version is that he’s either a good friend or a bad enemy. Once ya got his loyalty, ya got it forever. That’s why he’s Brooklyn’s second. He’s one of the few Spot actually trusts.”

With that description combined with the way Ike had honestly never met anyone who punched that hard, he was just a little intrigued. Maybe it wasn’t smart, but he’d went back to Brooklyn a week later, not selling this time, but just looking for that one Brooklyn boy.

He’d found him, selling at Coney. And Brooklyn boys usually didn’t sell with partners, so Ike hadn’t had trouble sneaking up on him.

“Hey.”

That was the only warning he gave before putting a hand on Hotshot’s shoulder to spin him around and punch him in the face.

Hotshot had wheeled back, raising his own fist.

“You got ‘bout four hits on me for no reason—I thinks I deserve one free shot!”

Slowly, Hotshot had lowered his hand, still glaring at him, but not as much.

“Fair is fair. Now go back to Manhattan.”

Ike was going to, honestly, but then figured, ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ and didn’t.

“So, how often do ya beat up kids from other boroughs without askin’ for their story?”

“Are you completely fearless, or just stupid?”

“Both, probably. Ya gonna answer the question, or punch my daylights out?”

“I ain’t decided yet.”

“Well, while you’re decidin’, I heard you’re close with Spot Conlon. What’s he really like? Is he always that scary, or is it just an act?”

For the next several weeks, it was like that. It was Ike coming over, finding Hotshot wherever he was, and annoying the hell out of him.

And Hotshot always said he was going to punch him, but he never did. Slowly, he started actually answering Ike’s questions, at least a few of them, and asking a few in return. Ike wouldn’t necessarily call them friends, but they definitely knew each other better, now.

“One of these days, I’m actually gonna punch ya,” Hotshot grumbled once, when Ike asked a question a little too personal.

“Every time ya say that, I believe you less,” Ike said cheerfully, “Anyway, I’s heard Brooklyn’s got great sunrises. Is that true?”

Hotshot actually smiled a little, “I dunno if it’s any better than Manhattan, but yeah, we’s gotten some pretty nice ones over here.”

It took a couple months, but Ike started figuring out that by even talking to him, Hotshot was letting down his guard, little by little. He let it down a bit more as he started letting Ike touch him, allowing a handshake when they met up, or a punch in the shoulder in a friendly way.

Once he realized how much Hotshot was trusting him by doing those little things, Ike realized that against his better judgement, he trusted him, too. He liked spending time with Hotshot, probably too much.

Definitely too much, with how he was stupid enough to walk through a November rainstorm months after they met just to see him.

By the time he got to Brooklyn, he was freezing, wet, and disoriented enough that he’d ended up passing out in front of a random store, just so the awning would keep the rain off.

He’d woken up in the Brooklyn Lodging House in the middle of the night, with Hotshot holding him in a bed.

Actually, he’d kind of jolted awake, and apparently woken up Hotshot with him as the Brooklyn boy whispered an explanation to him.

“Hildy found ya damn near frozen. By the time she got ya back here, you were almost dead and needed body heat bad.”

“Oh,” Ike whispered back, almost too terrified to move or even speak.

“That’s all ya got to say, you idiot?” Hotshot hissed, clearly angry as his arm around Ike’s waist tightened, “What were you thinkin’, walkin’ here in a storm?”

Ike was still pretty confused, and for once, he couldn’t even think of something to say.

Then Hotshot sighed, “I thought you were gonna die.”

Oh. So that was what this was about. He wasn’t angry—not at Ike, really, at least.

Ike had finally let himself relax against the taller boy’s chest, enjoying how warm Hotshot actually was.

“Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Hotshot had exhaled kind of sharply, and Ike was praying to a god he didn’t believe in that he wasn’t misreading things, but he’d rolled over so he was facing Brooklyn’s second, their faces barely inches apart, though it was so dark that Ike couldn’t really see him.

Beyond that, he hadn’t wanted to make the first move, mostly out of fear. In Manhattan, it was pretty common knowledge that many of them liked the same sex, but Brooklyn was different. It was less of a family and more of almost a gang. Ike wasn’t sure how Hotshot would react if he did anything.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to do anything, because yes, Ike liked boys, and he’d made peace with that, but being with one made it dangerous. Mike wasn’t the only was who was terrified of getting caught, for good reason.

Then Hotshot’s hand had come up to touch a scar on the side of Ike’s face. One he guessed he’d probably never noticed before because their faces had never been this close.

It had been from a pretty bad wound, but was so faded that it looked minor now, because he’d gotten it so long ago.

“I didn’t give you this, did I?”

Ike shook his head, “No. I’ve had that scar since I was 8.”

“How’d ya get a scar so bad it still shows now when you were 8?”

Ike had taken a deep breath, forced down panic over events he’d rather forget, and decided to tell him the truth.

“My brother and me,” he whispered, “Our parents died when we were really young. So’s we got brought up by our mom’s sister and her lover... her lover who was... also a woman.”

Ike paused there, waiting for Hotshot’s reaction.

There really wasn’t one, and he’d felt a bit of relief at that.

“They was good at bein’ subtle,” Ike continued, “So nobody suspected anythin’ for a long while. But then when me and Mike were 8... some bad people figured it out and... and those men came in the night and set the house on fire. I guess we’s lucky to have made it out at all—our aunts weren’t that lucky—but...”

His voice trailed off. Ike didn’t like admitting that he wasn’t this happy-go-lucky kid all the time. He hadn’t told anyone about this, ever. Mike had told Jack, years ago, to explain why they had bad days sometimes, but Ike had never been able to talk about it.

He’d felt Hotshot take a deep breath, and then the other boy had pulled him closer, right against his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination when, later, once Ike was halfway into a dream, he thought he might have felt a kiss being pressed to his hair.

Ike had known right there that something had changed between them, and though Mike gave him hell for staying out all night the next morning, he couldn’t say it wasn’t worth it.

He didn’t know if they were... what, did you call it courting? He didn’t know if what they were doing had a label or if spending a significant amount of their free time together qualified as being together.

But, after that first night, Ike did spend the night in Brooklyn a few more times, sharing a bed with Hotshot under the excuse that he’d lost track of time the Brooklyn Lodging House didn’t have one to spare. In reality, he stayed over because sharing a bed, sharing warmth with Brooklyn’s second... it was nice. It was somehow different from crawling in with Mike if nightmares got bad or huddling on the fire escape with Crutchie and Jack if he didn’t make enough to pay for his bed one night.

Sharing a bed with Hotshot was comforting even when nothing was actually wrong. It was safe and warm and it made Ike feel all fuzzy inside and...

Not that he knew how to say it, not that he could say it, but Ike was pretty sure this was what falling in love felt like.

It was scary, but he didn’t want to stop falling.

Of course, he wasn’t planning on telling Hotshot how he felt. Not unless the other boy made the first move. Or unless they decided to get drunk for some reason. Or if it happened to come up in conversation.

Okay... maybe Ike really wanted to tell him, but he just didn’t know how to go about it.

Well, he’d been sitting on this for a long while already, so Ike still really didn’t know when he was going to tell him, but he still felt the need to follow when he felt Hotshot jolt awake, just before rolling out of bed and leaving the room.

“Hotshot?”

Ike followed him out onto the fire escape, finding the taller boy staring down over the edge, a death grip on the railing.

“Hotshot, are you okay?”

Ike moved to stand next to him, making sure it was clear and visible what he was doing as he put a hand over Hotshot’s on the railing.

For a few seconds, he didn’t react. He didn’t even give a sign that he’d heard or even felt Ike touching him.

Then, slowly, he let go of the railing, flipping his hand over so he could intertwine their fingers.

Hotshot exhaled shakily, most of the tension leaving his frame. Ike took that as a sign that it was okay to lean his head against his shoulder.

“Ya gonna tell me what this is about?”

For a minute, he thought he wasn’t going to.

Then Hotshot took a wavering breath and spoke, still staring over the edge of the fire escape.

“Ya once asked how many kids I’s beat up for no reason,” he said quietly, “I don’t know. I get in fights a lot. I get angry and... and usually, Spot tells me where to aim it, but it ain’t always enough. I always have more and if I don’t put it somewhere, it’ll just build till I... till I explode.”

Ike nodded. He understood. He already knew this about Hotshot. He’d figured out that anger was his drive a long time ago.

“I... I learned that from my folks.”

Ike froze. In all their conversations over the last few months, Hotshot had never shared any personal information beyond the fact that he saw Spot as an older brother.

“They’d get angry,” Hotshot said shakily, “And when they’d explode, they’d...”

His voice faltered, and Ike touched his arm with his free hand, trying to ground him. He could read between the lines and though it made him angry and sad as hell, he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

“I... I got myself out when I was 12,” he mumbled, “Finally just couldn’t take it anymore and ran like hell—ended up here. And I know it’s been a couple years, now, but... but I still go back there some nights, when I’m sleepin’.”

His voice was shaking a little, by the end of that, and Ike tugged on his arm gently so he could turn Hotshot to face him.

He wasn’t sure he was going to allow it, but to his relief, Hotshot hugged him back, leaning down to bury his face in Ike’s shoulder.

“You’re here,” Ike whispered, “They can’t hurt ya here, Hotshot. You’re safe.”

Hotshot wasn’t crying, but he was shaking a little in the cold. It was winter, for crying out loud. Winter at night. And though the Brooklyn kids did wear sleeves like reasonable people in winter, most of them didn’t sleep in their shirts.

“Can we take this inside?” Ike asked, knowing that he was cold, even being a little more dressed for the weather than Hotshot was.

The taller boy nodded shakily and they went inside, curling up together in that bunk, the closeness for comfort as much as warmth.

Feeling brave for a minute, Ike leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on the Hotshot’s forehead.

Hotshot went rigid, but the expression on his face was pure surprise, not any kind of disgust, and he didn’t pull away.

Ike offered him a small smile before rolling over, so as not to push things.

He definitely wasn’t complaining when Hotshot pulled him against his chest to sleep for the rest of the night.