#mid90s x gn reader

[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"

[michelleinterrupted]

Not sure where to request but could you do some fuckshit from mid90s one shots?

since it's new years , I thought this would be perfect :)) and I have a hc that fuckshit's real name is Andre so I went with that hehe (also this is not proofread so I'm srry for any mistakes !!)

༺ fuckshit x gn!reader ༻

Fuckshit invited me to his family's annual New Years Eve party, this would also be the first time I've met his family since we've only been dating for about 3 months.

I knocked on the front door to the house. Cars all over the front yard, loud music, and stacks of fireworks on the porch which is for later I assume.

Fuckshit opened the door and smiled, "Fucking finally! What took you so long? I thought you weren't gonna come.." He sounded relived to see me.

"It takes time to look like this first of all, and of course I was coming, I promised." I stated sarcastically as a smile bloomed on my face as well.

He pulled me through the doorway by my waist and as he closed the door wrapped his arms around me and gave me a hug along with a kiss to my forehead.

He draped his arm around my neck and lead me to where his parents were at, and they spotted us instantly.

"Yo ma! Pops!" He shouted at them and maneuvered our way to them and gestured over to me.

"You must be Y/n, I'm Ella, Andre's mother."

She was a couple inches taller then Fuckshit, the same blonde hair up in a nice bun, and a very short silver dress that hung on her slim shoulders. By the way she slurred her words it was obvious she's already had a few drinks.

"Yeah that's me, nice to meet you, Ma'am." I smiled and shook her hand.

"This kid never shuts up about you! Always 'Y/n this' and 'Y/n that'." His dad laughed loudly while he punched his sons' left shoulder.

"I'm James by the way." He nodded his head while taking a sip of whatever drink was in his black flask.

James was a very tall man, quite big too, short black hair with a think beard to match.

We all talked and they drunkenly asked me questions about myself like; how we met, how I'm doing in school, if I have a job, basic questions.

Before we know it, it was a minute till midnight.

Everyone gathered around outside as Fuckshit and a couple of other boys get ready to set off the fireworks.

10.

Everyone stood on the porch while the stack of fireworks were placed in the road.

9.

Fuckshit stood behind me, his right hand placed on my right hip and his left hand holding the beer he was drinking.

8.

"This is my favorite part, our neighbors fucking hate us for this shit." He giggled in my ear.

7.

A tall, lanky, dark-skinned boy ran up to fuckshit and yelled, "Yo 'Dre, you got your lighter on you?"

6.

Fuckshit dug around his pocket as fast as he could (which is pretty hard to do when your drunk and high). Once he found it he threw it to the other boy.

5.

He ran over and flicked the lighter till he saw the flame.

4.

Once he saw the flame he quickly lit the fireworks that sat in front of him.

3.

The boy sprinted away as they began to spark almost instantly.

2.

The sparks got bigger, louder, and more intense.

1.

The fireworks shot up into the dark night sky.

0.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Everyone practically screamed at once. The fire works exploded with all kinds of colors, red, blue, pink, yellow, white, etc.

I looked over at Fuckshit and saw him grinning at the light show. He turned to look me in the eye, down to my lips, and back to me eyes.

"Happy new years, baby." He whispered to me before pulling me into a kiss by the back of my neck.

I could hear the literal fireworks go off in the background as we pulled away.

any likes, comments, or reblogs are appreciated!! pls dont repost my stuff on other platforms unless you get credit <33

[xelmokidx]

Nicknames

Mid90’s x gn or fem!reader / slight Fuckshit x gn!reader

Reader wanted a nickname, so the boys tried to come up with one. It sucked + readers' first time meeting the boys. 

Warnings!!: two mentions of fem pronouns sorta. Just fluff:D

**************************************************

Spike Psyche. That's my nickname. Out of all the things my friends could have nick-named me. Spike Psyche. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I say, appalled. Fuckshit nods, swigging back his Coke. 

“Yup.” he replies as Sunburn (aka stevie) giggles at the name.“Why?” I exclaim in disbelief. 

Ray chuckles at the nickname before muttering

 “Thats fucked up” Fuckshit opens his stupid mouth again. “Because all you talk about Is chopping off our heads and putting them on spikes, and how you want to kill yourself after every minor inconvenience.” I gasp, putting my hand over my chest dramatically. “I do not!”

Ruben shakes his head. “Yes, you do.”

FourthGrade chuckles behind his camera and I glare at him. He sinks down into the couch. “I do not talk about killing myself that much guys, if anything Ruben does more than me!” Ruben whips his head around to look at me. “Man, fuck you” He starts “I do not talk about that depressed shit.” I shake my head. “Y’all are trippin’” I look around the shop and see some customers listening in on our conversation. “I will not let yall call me that dumbass name, I like Y/N so much better”

Fourth grade finally chimes in. “But last week you said you hated your basic name and you wanted a nickname.” Bless his innocent soul. “Well I take it back, i am not answering to ‘Spike Psyche’” I sink into the couch with a pout. “Well fine ma, we’ll find you a “good nickname” Fuckshit reasons. I nod. We sit in silence as Ray gets up to help the customer. I look around the shop. 

New posters of artists I like are on the walls. Fuckshit insisted on making the space mine as well as theirs. All I heard was ‘we need new decorations and you have good taste in music’ I didn't really mind though. I've always wanted to add my own little spice into the skate shop ever since I first stepped foot in it. I think back a couple years. 

I was 13. I wanted a new board for my birthday. So, my dad took me to the nearest shop. Four boys sat on a couch near a wall, watching MTV on their small TV. The tall one noticed us first. He nudged the golden haired boy to his left, who then looked up at me. “Oh shit” he muttered under his breath. My dad frowned. I guess he caught that. “Hey, welcome to Motorz, how can I help y'all today?” he asked, clearly trying to impress my dad (on account of my dads business attire). 

My dad spoke for me while I hid behind him in fear. I was never good with new people. Especially ones I found cool. 

As my dad pressed questions like ‘How old even are you?’ and ‘fuckshits your name?’ I only found the kid cooler. How did you even wind up with a name like Fuckshit? 

Soon enough, my own personal skateboard was in my hands, and my dad was dragging me out of the shop despite my wanting to stay. As I looked behind me to the boys, and the supposed fuckshit was waving to me out the door. With my other free hand I waved back. He smiled a soft smile, and then walked back into the shop yelling “that chick was hot!” I smiled to myself the whole way home. I went back to the shop after school one day to see fuckshit again, and just stayed there for three years. My dad warmed up to fuckshit eventually, but still has some grudges against him. 

And I'm still in love with the stupid kid, even though he gets on my nerves almost every day.

 I look at fuckshit now. His hair is longer, yet less taken care of and frizzy. He has more scars from skateboarding. And his eyes look even more green against his tan olive skin. Suddenly, he speaks. “I got it!” I roll my eyes and mutter “what is it?” He smirks and walks over to me slightly slotting his legs between mine. “Your new nickname is Stalker, because you're always staring at me” The boys erupt in laughter. I gasp “fuck you” 

“You wish ma,” 

[dolly-gutzz]

Mid90’s x gn or fem!reader / slight Fuckshit x gn!reader

Reader wanted a nickname, so the boys tried to come up with one. It sucked + readers' first time meeting the boys. 

Warnings!!: two mentions of fem pronouns sorta. Just fluff:D

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

Spike Psyche. That's my nickname. Out of all the things my friends could have nick-named me. Spike Psyche. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I say, appalled. Fuckshit nods, swigging back his Coke. 

“Yup.” he replies as Sunburn (aka stevie) giggles at the name.“Why?” I exclaim in disbelief. 

Ray chuckles at the nickname before muttering

 “Thats fucked up” Fuckshit opens his stupid mouth again. “Because all you talk about Is chopping off our heads and putting them on spikes, and how you want to kill yourself after every minor inconvenience.” I gasp, putting my hand over my chest dramatically. “I do not!”

Ruben shakes his head. “Yes, you do.”

FourthGrade chuckles behind his camera and I glare at him. He sinks down into the couch. “I do not talk about killing myself that much guys, if anything Ruben does more than me!” Ruben whips his head around to look at me. “Man, fuck you” He starts “I do not talk about that depressed shit.” I shake my head. “Y’all are trippin’” I look around the shop and see some customers listening in on our conversation. “I will not let yall call me that dumbass name, I like Y/N so much better”

Fourth grade finally chimes in. “But last week you said you hated your basic name and you wanted a nickname.” Bless his innocent soul. “Well I take it back, i am not answering to ‘Spike Psyche’” I sink into the couch with a pout. “Well fine ma, we’ll find you a “good nickname” Fuckshit reasons. I nod. We sit in silence as Ray gets up to help the customer. I look around the shop. 

New posters of artists I like are on the walls. Fuckshit insisted on making the space mine as well as theirs. All I heard was ‘we need new decorations and you have good taste in music’ I didn't really mind though. I've always wanted to add my own little spice into the skate shop ever since I first stepped foot in it. I think back a couple years. 

I was 13. I wanted a new board for my birthday. So, my dad took me to the nearest shop. Four boys sat on a couch near a wall, watching MTV on their small TV. The tall one noticed us first. He nudged the golden haired boy to his left, who then looked up at me. “Oh shit” he muttered under his breath. My dad frowned. I guess he caught that. “Hey, welcome to Motorz, how can I help y'all today?” he asked, clearly trying to impress my dad (on account of my dads business attire). 

My dad spoke for me while I hid behind him in fear. I was never good with new people. Especially ones I found cool. 

As my dad pressed questions like ‘How old even are you?’ and ‘fuckshits your name?’ I only found the kid cooler. How did you even wind up with a name like Fuckshit? 

Soon enough, my own personal skateboard was in my hands, and my dad was dragging me out of the shop despite my wanting to stay. As I looked behind me to the boys, and the supposed fuckshit was waving to me out the door. With my other free hand I waved back. He smiled a soft smile, and then walked back into the shop yelling “that chick was hot!” I smiled to myself the whole way home. I went back to the shop after school one day to see fuckshit again, and just stayed there for three years. My dad warmed up to fuckshit eventually, but still has some grudges against him. 

And I'm still in love with the stupid kid, even though he gets on my nerves almost every day.

 I look at fuckshit now. His hair is longer, yet less taken care of and frizzy. He has more scars from skateboarding. And his eyes look even more green against his tan olive skin. Suddenly, he speaks. “I got it!” I roll my eyes and mutter “what is it?” He smirks and walks over to me slightly slotting his legs between mine. “Your new nickname is Stalker, because you're always staring at me” The boys erupt in laughter. I gasp “fuck you” 

“You wish ma,” 

[deathmetalangel]

Could you please do a fourth grade from mid 90s x reader where fourth grade doesn’t have a place to stay so she lets him stay at her house and they confess their feelings to each other thank you

FUCK IT, I LOVE YOU

fourth grade x gn! reader

warnings: mentions of homelessness, swearing (it’s mid90s so), anxious fourth grade, insecure fourth grade, fluffy kinda?

“wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine,”

Y/n was usually out late. They enjoyed the nightlife of the city compared to the festivities of the morning. Sure it was nice to get out when the sun was rising and the city was just waking up. But, to y/n, the real fun happened when everyone was already asleep.

Sure it could be scary. Sometimes it did get boring. All that empty darkness with few awake to spend the night with. It only appealed to them because of the serenity. The night didn’t have to be wild for them to enjoy it. Some of their best nights were spent simply gazing at the stars. Or having a deep meaningful conversation in the moonlight.

On one of their many walks, unaccompanied but not unarmed of course, they’re stopped when a familiar face interrupts their path. “Hey, Fourth Grade. I thought you hated being out this late?”

The lanky boy looks around awkwardly. Y/n had stumbled across him on his way to the skate park. Ray had mentioned he’d slept there before when he got overwhelmed and just had to take a break from everything. That wasn’t out of necessity, and in Fourth Grade’s case definitely not out of embarrassment to ask anyone for help. “Uh, you know. I wanted to see what you’re always missing the mornings for.”

A smile graces y/n’s features. Small, but amused as it didn’t quite reach their eyes. Fourth Grade tints a slight shade of red. Almost everything they did seemed to fluster him. When they look at him he can’t meet their gaze. “Fourth Grade are you lying to me?” His breath catches in his throat. Of course they’d figure him out so easily.

Y/n spent the most time around Fourth Grade and vise versa. In their friend group everyone had their obvious ‘best friend’. They didn’t like their other friends any less, but that’s just who they clicked with the best. It used to be Ray and Fuckshit, but Ray seemed to take on a more big brother role for Stevie. Fuckshit and Ruben hang out more as a result. And for as long as anyone can remember it’s always been y/n and Fourth Grade.

They often mirrored each other as well even when they hung out with the whole group. Stevie, the most observant since he was the youngest and easily the most eager, had picked up on it before even Ray did. When y/n would lean on something usually Fourth Grade would follow suit. When Fourth Grade would try to look at them without being caught, he’d usually get caught because they were doing the same thing. Leaving both of them red in the face and avoiding eye contact.

“I- it’s nothing. I’m fine y/n/n. Just wanted some breathing room.”

“I know you Fourth Grade. Come on. We can talk about it at my place. It’s getting late, even for me so I’ll make some tea.” Fourth Grade looks hesitant to respond to the offer. Y/n smiles before holding out their hand. “At least walk me home? I won’t make you talk if you don’t want to.”

Swallowing his anxieties he grabs their hand and follows them back home. The walk was quiet. You could hear the crunch of the pavement under their shoes and the high pitched chirps of the crickets in the distance. He didn’t mind. Fourth Grade was busy trying to plan what he was going to say. He didn’t want y/n to pity him. He hated that.

The guys knew better, but y/n had been there for him the most. It was hard for them not to feel bad for him. He only notices when the warmth leaves his hand as they go to unlock the front door. “Uh it might be a little messy. Don’t worry. My mom’s working late again and left in a huge rush so, uh. Yeah,”

Y/n leads him inside and locks up behind him. The house was nice, a bit messy, but it looked full of warmth. Their house wasn’t huge, but it was only y/n and their mom. They had money, just didn’t feel the necessity to buy a big house just for the two of them. “Come on we can chill in the kitchen until you get sick of me.” Like he’d ever.

Fourth Grade sits down at the kitchen table while she puts on a pot of water to boil. When they sit down in front of him he tenses. “Are you gonna tell me why you really were out at 2 am?”

His hands get clammy as he wipes them on his jeans. He really hated lying, that and he wasn’t very good at it, but lying to y/n just made him feel worse. Like the guilt weighed down on his conscious tenfold. “I was going to the skate park.”

“Fourth Grade, you don’t have your board.” Right, god he was making a fool of himself.

“Oh. I must have forgotten it at home. Damn.”

They raise a brow. Y/n questions him again, “I mean it, please don’t lie to me Fourth Grade. I can’t help you if you lie to me.”

God he felt like the earth would eat him up at any moment now. Actually telling them would be like admitting defeat. Or worse. Admitting weakness.

“I was gonna crash there.” His words hang in the air for a while. A pregnant pause fills the space between them. His eyes drop down to his hands that grab his knees desperately hoping to ground himself.

Y/n’s chair screeches against the wooden floor as they pull it back to stand up. Fourth Grade looks up to see what they’re doing. They’re leaving? He really doesn’t wanna ask, but he so desperately wants to know. Shit. They probably thought he was a poor loser. He was. He was a dumb, poor, awkward skater kid with no real future besides working a dead end job like his parents. He was stupid. So fucking stupid.

A blanket and pillow hit him in the head. “Crash on the couch in my room. Or you could take the bed I take the couch I don’t care. Ma won’t care either she loves you. Just don’t lie to me next time.” Y/n goes back to start pouring the boiled water into mugs.

Fourth Grade looks at the blanket and pillow flabbergasted. Was that it? Was that really all he was worried about? “I know that look. And yes, I’m not making a big deal about it because it isn’t a big deal. You should’ve just asked me from the start. Why would you feel ashamed. We’ve known each other so long literally nothing you do phases me anymore. And no, I’m not doing this because I feel bad. I offer to help because I care and want the best for you.”

Y/n places the cup of steeping tea in front of him before sitting down. “Why?” They drop the bag of tea into their cup and raise a brow. “Why do you care y/n/n? What’s in it for you? I’m such a bad friend. I lie to you, I can’t do the things you do for me, and-”

“I care because if you could, you would. Give yourself more credit. You’re smarter than you think you are so use that brain of yours to think of reasons why I stick around.” They say not really showing much worry.

He was though. “I don’t know. Fuck if I knew I’d do whatever it was you liked more often. Hang out with you? Cause I definitely can’t buy you things y/n.” This was very out of character for him. Y/n could see that this was a long time coming.

“Fucking hell you’re dumber than I thought if you think I care about that. If I wanted someone who just bought me shit instead of caring about me I’d hang out with Fuckshit, but I don’t because he only cares about himself and fucking anything with a pulse. I hang out with you because you’re nice and polite and thoughtful. Even when you don’t have a lot to say you listen. That’s more than half the guys I’ve hung around have done.”

Fourth Grade sighs. “Fuck y/n you don’t get it. I want to be able to do those things for you. You should be around friends that can. You should have friends that you don’t have to feel bad for and let stay at your house because their place is basically temporary.”

Y/n rolls their eyes while stirring the honey into their tea. Fourth Grade clenches his jaw before turning to get up. “Don’t you dare leave,”

“I’m not gonna burden you y/n. I’ll figure it out, thank you for the tea.”

“No.”

He stops. “No?”

“I said no. I’m not letting the guy I like sleep on the streets because he’s too stubborn to just accept my help.”

“Y/n-” He pauses. What did they say? “Wait what?” Y/n doesn’t say anything, but he can see their cheeks flush.

“I’m going to bed. Goodnight Fourth Grade,” Y/n tries to make their way to their room when he grabs their wrist. Y/n stops.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“You know what I mean.”

They both stay still. Not a word nor a whisper broke the ever so fragile silence. Y/n looks up through their lashes at Fourth Grade. He couldn’t look away from them either. They were just frozen. “I made it awkward. Didn’t I?”

“Can you just let me calm down for a sec?”

“Huh?”

Y/n tilts their head up at Fourth Grade who looked as bright as a tomato. “I love you. Shit. Y/n listen I-” Their arms slip over his shoulders and y/n leans up to shush him. When they kiss all he can think about is not acting like an idiot. His eyes shut and he wraps his arms around their waist. The height difference was apparent, making him lean down to not break the kiss.

When they do break apart for air he smiles, his face contorted into a goofy grin. “I’m sorry. I-”

Y/n shushes him again. Their finger placed against his lips. “You’re cuter when you aren’t overthinking everything. Please stop apologizing and we can finish our tea and have a nice sleep after this very eventful night. I for one have had enough to make me sleep a good 12 hours.”

Fourth Grade looks down clumsily before rubbing his neck. “Yeah. Okay.”

[lowkeyrobin]

hiiii, I love ur writing and I was wondering if you could do fuckshit x reader hcs on a movie night with him? Maybe some making out idk, make it yours!!!! Thanks pooks 🫶🏽🫶🏽

yeah sure!! ; thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy!! ; and thank you!! that means so much to me bro tyty 🫶

FUCKSHIT ; movie night

summary ; movie night hcs with fuckshit!

warnings ; language, making out

word count ; 272

masterlist

he hates any and all romancey movies so you literally cannot watch them together. like titanic, she's all that, clueless etc

he needs some sort of action

so you mostly watch movies like the lost boys, fight club, and chucky

the lowest he'll go is dazed and confused (which he actually really likes), the sandlot, and the breakfast club

he usually likes curling up with you and some snacks

yes you heard me, he actually shows physical affection toward you

alone, the tough guy act is gone

or at least it's gone when you aren't around strangers and aquiatences

around the others, he's normal as well, but he needs to be the biggest hater around posers for some reason idk

he likes showing you off to people he knows and stuff tho

but about halfway through the movie, especially rewatches, he gets a little... distracted so to speak

lots of weird hand touches and squirming and resting his arm around your shoulder

he gives up on you taking the hint and just climbs in your lap to make out with you

you never fight him off cause you like annoying him to the point where he's given up and climbs on your lap instead of the other way around

lots of moving around for no reason

sometimes you end up laying down on the couch and sometimes you fall off of said couch and continue to make out

he lovessss when you tangle your hands in his curls bro

seductive whistle 😍😍😍

when some batshit crazy thing happens/he hears, he'll immediately look at the TV to see what's happening

"fuckshit-"

"hold on"

[lowkeyrobin]

hey! i liked your writing! could you write something about fuckshit and the reader preparing for exams? it's kinda boring, but i really need it right now. you can make it short. honestly whatever you want, feel free. thanks!

🔋

yeah sure! ; I just recently had exams as well and it was not fun 😭🙏 ; I rushed this a bit because I wanted to get it out for you but yeah lol ; also welcome 🔋! ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy :) ; I decided to put this in hc form because it was easier and I didn't have motivation to make this a whole ass readable oneshot LOL

FUCKSHIT ; exam prep

summary ; studying for exams with fuckshit

warnings ; language, mentions of weed, sexual jokes, making out, pet names (baby & babe)

word count ; 362

l/f/c = least favorite subject

masterlist

you were supposed to be helping each other study for exams

you mostly struggled with l/f/s while he was struggling awfully with biology/physical science

it was a struggle getting him to do anything LMFAOOO

"what function do ribosomes serve in the cell?"

he's just sitting there staring at you like 😒😐

"fuckshit"

"what??? oh my god, I dunno"

"just guess"

he's got the biggest attitude ever....

"to fuck you? dude i don't know"

"how are you a junior in high school again?"

yall get a little... distracted for a minute (a half hour)

he's literally straddling your waist and making out with you on his bed

he smells so rank but you couldn't care in that moment (the weed smell gets you sometimes let's be real)

you're massaging his scalp as he's straight up bruising your lips with how hard he's kissing you

one, he loves you and is addicted to you

two, he doesn't wanna study and is trying to distract you

his hands are EVERYWHERE trying to just make out with you

plus he's relieving your stress so... win win situation

anyway, back to studying...

afterwards, he's more compliant (much more high as well)

he's probably not gonna pass again but it's fine

you definitely are though, you're like a wizard or something

"damn, you're a fucking nerd"

"don't start"

"okay smartass"

"okay dumbass"

yall r doing anything but studying let's be so honest

when u are though... it's serious

he's a lot more focused while high so he can actually get shit done

for a while it's just silence while looking over notes and then he'll start staring at you all focused

he's admiring you, trust me

"what does this mean?" just to talk to you

"they rotate around each other at a specific speed"

"thank you, baby"

rests his head on your shoulder while he's reading over boring notes

"babe, what's the difference between prokaryotes and eukaryotes again?"

you spend 20 mins hyping each other up with music

like the stereo is blaring and you're dancing and jumping all around the room

you have to bribe him with kisses and weed to finish the last page of notes he had to go over

but it ended up alright

[lowkeyrobin]

Ray x reader skater rivals to lovers who both want to pursue skating as a career! Reader has their own group but they intend the same school and stuff and like they always tease each other and always have snarky comebacks towards each other and y'know that scene where everyone is skating in front of the court house that's where ray and reader always see each other and when the cops start chasing them ray and reader run together holding hands and when they hide ray is hiding reader (ray is taller than reader) and then they just kiss 🧍😭🙏

- ♣️

bro when u sent me this on Discord I actually FREAKED THANM YOUUUU ; also this is just adorable, I have no idea where u get these ideas LMFAO ; ty for requesting, hope you enjoy!!

RAY ; eyes on you

summary ; youre skating at the courthouse when the cops show up, and somehow spark romance

warnings ; language, mentions of smoking/drinking

word count ; 545

masterlist

"You skate like a motherfucker!"

"Yeah, I do fuck your mom. Thanks!"

He laughs, kickflipping off the stairs at the courthouse. He maneuvers between people sitting on said stairs, using the rail as his mode of transportation down.

You two plus your other friends were skating at the courthouse, chilling with other stoners and skaters you didn't know who all came to do the same thing. Smoke and skate, or both.

Fuckshit and Fourthgrade were getting high off a joint and casually skating around, Fourthgrade filming. Stevie and Ruben sit under the shade of a tree, sweating their balls off.

Your friends were across the courtyard, skating at their little heart's desire. They were watching you hang out with Ray from afar, often making jokes and comments about you here and there.

You'd broken your board a few days ago, leaving you without one for the time being. Now, standing in your baggy clothes, you couldn't feel the breeze run over your scalp while dopamine coarsed through your brain.

Ray, out of an act of generosity but more in a teasing manner, quickly grabs your hand as he slowly drifts by, pulling you up onto his board with him. You stand literally back to front, pressed against each other. His hands rest over your waist and stomach area, holding you onto the board as you relocate your balance with him.

It catches you off gaurd, a laugh escaping your lips as you hold onto his arms tightly.

"Ollie, one, two, three!"

You both jump at the same time, successfully pulling off the trick together. Laughs escape your vocal cords as you look at each other, smiles painting your faces.

"5-0! 5-0!"

Your smiles quickly turn to frowns, facial expressions turning to ones of panic as you quickly jump off his board so he can pick it up and you can run.

You look to the side, seeing your friends sprinting off without you. He grabs your hand and sprints after them, police right on your tail. You lag behind a bit, nearly losing your shoe as you ran because the laces had untied, and the whole thing was falling off your foot.

Ray ducks and pulls you behind a large garbage bin, holding you close as you hide, seeing a few cops run right past you. Your knees are tucked to your chests, his board hiding underneath the large bin behind you.

You gasp and pant for air, sweat dripping down your foreheads and backs.

It was one of those moments that you could feel music playing in the background, a massive wave of dopamine and adrenaline coursing through your bodies. You felt like you were living out a scene in some coming of age movie.

He looks at you, pushing his locs back to get some air on his forehead. He cheekily smiles, almost like a smirk.

"Hey pal," You laugh, catching your breath.

"Hey"

You're silent for a second before you pull him into a kiss, your dominant hand resting in the crook of his neck. His hands quickly trail to your face, his hands on your jawline and under your ears.

"I guess you aren't as dumb as a goldfish then" He jokes.

"You're a bitch"

"Your bitch"

"Don't get cocky, pal"

[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]

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..."