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80s4life · 2 years

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Just Fly Away

Word Count: 744

Status: Not Requested (per say, it was asked about in the comment section once)

Valentines Prompt: Birds

Relationship: Joey Trotta x Reader

Fandom: Toy Soldiers 1991

Warnings: fluff, tiny angst (I think)

Masterlist Toy soldiers Masterlist Valentines Prompt Masterlist 2022

{gif credit goes to @orchestratedtribute}

Knocking as carefully and discreetly as physically possible, you threaten to bang the door down in frustration. You knew Joey was a deep sleeper, but it wasn’t to this extreme of an extent. Luckily, you hear his obnoxiously loud footsteps scrape across the tough wooden floorboards just as you make your fifth attempt.

Shooshing you with his index finger, he unlocks the door, lets you in, then locks it again. As soon as you know the coast is clear, you turn an annoyed expression in his direction, about to scold him.

“Hey Baby,” he smiles, your shoulders instantly slumping to smile at him goofily.

Sighing, your smile down at your feet, your resolve faltering, “You were supposed to be awake. It’s not easy sneaking in here, you know that...”

Rubbing his eyes shamelessly, he nods, “I know, but you’re just too good.” He sweet talks you like your some superhero.

“Ugh! Would you guys get a room?!” Billy pipes up from the bottom bunk, throwing a pillow over his ears from where he’s sat, facing the wall.

“Sorry, Billy,” you giggle, hopping up onto the top bunk.

Following behind you, Joey makes sure he gives your bottom a tap at the view, but settles down with another grown from Billy, getting up on the bunk. With some sort of second-hand nature, Joey eases into his normal position, laying in between your legs with his head cushioned by your thighs, staring out of the window. Content, you prop yourself against the wall, hands brushing through his soft, straight locks of hair.

Staring out at the dark skies, you watch with lidded eyes as the moon fades to gray, the gray fading to a light blue, the blue fading to a burning red, and settling somewhere in the mix of orange in the early hours of the morning.

His voice startles at first, but you quickly resume your placement, forcing your heart to stop its merciless beating. “You know what you remind me of?” Joey asks, his mouth muffled from his head placement, propped up on his chin as he keeps his eyes trained on the scenery.

“Hm?” you ask, petting his hair with a loose-lipped smile.

“Those birds out there,” he points.

“Why?” you ask, you eyebrows scrunching together at the connection.

“You’re spirit. It’s free and adventurous like them out there. It’s one of the first things I noticed.”

You smile at the sentiment, Joey having never really told you what he saw in you, just rare occurrences like these that you store in the back of your mind with the others.

“You have this look in your eyes sometimes; like you see some value in something no one else does, just like a bird when it’s collecting small things or material for a nest. It’s pointless, but you make it special...and yours,” Joey smiles a little teary eyed.

Forcing his body to turn on its back, you stare at him lovingly and encouragingly. You could see where the conversation was starting to lead and you didn’t want him to talk about something he’s not comfortable explaining. It’s better to write off your shitty childhood and parents as just that, isn’t it? Just shitty parents.

“That’s something I’ve always wanted, but never thought I could have.”

Stroking his cheeks as stubborn tears streak the soft skin, you gaze washed over his entire face, your lips coming down to press against his forehead. Leaning back slowly, you then lean in again to kiss each of his eyelids, nose, and then his lips lightly yet carrying so much meaning.

“I love you, Joey.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he sniffles, pulling you down to hug you close, shifting your positioning to just hold each other. “I’ll always love you.”

#joey trotta #joey trotta imagine #joey trotta x reader #wil wheaton #wil wheaton imagine #wil wheaton x reader #toy soldiers #toy soldiers x reader #toy soldiers imagine #reader insert

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i-seed-u · 2 years

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this is MY tumblr I get to choose what i post

so heres a kin-mem but written out

MAJOR SPOLIERS FOR TOY SOLDIERS

word count: 3,017

trigger warnings: blood, major character death, guns are mentioned, gunshots, wounds, implied abusive parents, physical bullying, crying, mentions of child neglect, just a whole lot of ouchie

The soft rustling of notebook pages was the only thing I heard for a while. Gunshots were fired a few minutes prior to now, and I wasn’t exactly sure as to who or what they were fired at. Frankly, I would have liked to have kept it that way. Flipping through what seemed like endless stacks of notebooks was my current and only distraction. They were filled from page to page, front to back, with different ideas, different designs, and in-the-works gadgets. Nothing revolutionary, just things I could work on. Physical things I could make and hopefully one day put to use.

My fantasies and peace were soon cut short, two hands slamming down onto the side of my desk, causing several stacks of my notebooks and papers to fall to the floor. I looked up to the perpetrator, half expecting Joey Trotta who would’ve wanted nothing more than to pick on me.

Joey. That kid, he had something out for me. I had obviously provoked him in some way, his actions proving as much. Not a single day could go by where he wouldn’t do something to get on my nerves. His pranks could range from as simple as bumping into me in the hall and knocking me, and consequently my stuff, to the floor. Or they could result in me walking back to my room with a fresh black eye and tear on my shirt.

But, to what was almost a pleasure, it wasn’t Joey. Instead, it was Billy. I was silently relieved for a second, but then I noticed the tears that were sliding down his cheeks. Someone like Billy crying was an awfully rare sight, he was tough as nails. He always was in trouble of some sort, nothing could seemingly crack him. Or so I’d thought.

“Come with me, right now.” He demanded.

I shifted to look at him straight on, furrowing my eyebrows.

“Why do you want me to come with you?” I asked.

I didn’t want to admit it, but I was skeptical. I didn’t want to be skeptical of someone who was in obvious distress. I really didn’t, I was never one to doubt someone's emotions. But he was friends with the same boy who sought nothing but to ruin my day. How could I ignore that fact? For all I knew, this was a setup for me to get jumped.

Though, as I thought about it some more, would they really be out to jump me with the terrorists around? They were stupid, I knew that much. But they weren’t dumb, they wouldn’t willingly put themselves in harm’s way like that. Right?

Billy slowly lost more patience with me, moving off of my desk and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He tapped his foot looking down.

“Joey,” His voice wavered, “Joey wants to see you.”

I pulled back almost instantly, nervously looking Billy in the eyes. What the hell did Joey want with me? I was almost sure that this was some joke. That they were looking to mess with me. But the way Billy looked at me, the tear stains down his face paired with his tone of voice, it was eerie in a way. He was evidently just as on edge as me. Something was up, I hesitantly concluded.

Billy had seemed to catch my hesitation, now grabbing my wrist and yanking me up onto my feet, rather roughly. I struggled to stand up, shooting him a glare, to which he rolled his eyes.

“He got gunned down, Yogurt. Get off your ass before he dies.” He now ushered.

Pure shock coursed through my body, my jaw silently dropping. Gunned down? Joey was gunned down? I hardly could believe it, they couldn't have done that, no. But then slowly, I realized. The gunshots I thought, Joey was the victim.

I allowed Billy to drag me out of my room, and through the hallways. I felt out of control of my body. Everything was blurring by. My only focus was on Billy’s back and his too-tight grip on my wrist, which surely would leave a mark. We made our way out into the courtyard, my mild complaints to 'Slow down' ceased immediately. Any concerns of myself immediately left my mind as I laid my eyes on Joey.

The bodies of Ricky, Scruffy, and Hank who stared down at Joey’s gunned-down body obscured my view, but the bloodstains and splatters were extremely easy to see. By the looks of the thick red, blood dripping down the stairs, he slid down from where he fell. There was no way he was going to live with blood loss like that.

He looked so sickly pale, so mortifyingly like a corpse. My mind flooded with so many worries and thoughts. Was there any chance of him living? Was he doomed? How did he get in this situation? Why did he want to speak to me?

I noticed Billy’s grip had loosened on my wrist, as he caught the same sight as me. I heard his almost inaudible gasp as his whole body heisiated. His steps paused, the group of boys turning to look at us. Billy let go of my wrist and half haphazardly darted to them. He must be in so much pain right now I thought. His best friend was bleeding out in front of him. However, I shoved that thought back down into my mind, now more concerned with what Joey wanted with me. I made my way over.

As I cautiously took a stand next to Hank, I made direct eye contact with Joey. The silent tension had begun to rise more and more by the second. His eyes were lacking any of the same colors they once had. They were once a rich brown and vibrant grey-blue but had turned into nothing but murky, bloodshot daggers. His face was steadily losing any color, save for the cuts across his cheeks and chin. It struck a tinge of fear in my heart.

What felt like years had seemingly passed before he spoke, his voice hoarse and laced with absolute agony.

“Leave me ‘n Yogurt to talk for a minute.” He simply requested.

Ricky had no protest, silently turning and walking a few feet back. Scruffy, Billy, and Hank, however, began to protest. Billy, more than the others. I felt almost guilty seeing him so distraught, he obviously wanted to stay with Joey. Nevertheless, complaints and confused inquiries flew from their mouths for a beat. But Joey spoke again, more firmly this time.

“I said get.”

Hank and Scruffy shook their heads in silent denial and disbelief, turning to join Ricky. Billy hesitated a minute, more tears began to fall down his face. He swallowed thickly, turning to walk away. He soon joined the trio of boys who looked at one another with nothing but remorse. They turned between each other and looked back at me and Joey who were now sat in silence, every once in a while.

The silent shuffles of Joey propping himself up had brought my attention back to him and his current situation. He groaned out in pain, moving the arm that covered his major wounds to help himself up. His grey shirt was absolutely caked in blood. The same blood was spreading to his leather jacket and hands. He looked like complete hell, tired and in pain. So much pain was in his face, in his voice. Sympathy I didn't know I had for him grew.

There was a long period of silence, nothing but his strained breathing could be heard. It was an odd tranquility, welcomed in a way. But then he suddenly sighed, closing his eyes, he began to speak.

“I don’t know what to tell you, because I really don’t have a lot of time left, but you’re gonna make it someplace big one day,” Joey uttered.

I looked at him as if he was insane. When did the Joey Trotta become compassionate? He seemed almost foregin, someone I didn't know.

“I’m sorry?” I spoke carefully, trying my best to not offend him.

Joey sighed, looking up to the sky like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Yogurt, Derek, whatever the hell your name is, you’re like a younger brother to me.” He confessed.

I shifted from crouching to sitting on the steps, ignoring the blood that would surely stain my jeans. I’m dreaming, I thought to myself. This can NOT be real.

Not once did he ever take time to care about me. Joey did nothing but torment and abuse me. I would flinch at any sudden movements or when someone got too close, because of him. Because of him, I kept my favorite things hidden away in fear they would go missing. Because of him, I kept bandaids and hydrogen peroxide in my bedside table. I carried permanent marks on my skin from that day he took it too far. Paired with the sheer amount of mental ones, I was always scared. I was always nervous, waiting for when they would strike. Nothing like that was brotherly.

“I mean no disrespect, but I can’t see how you think of me as a younger brother,” I stated simply.

Joey looked at me with tears welling up under his eyes. He looked nothing like the tormentor I once knew. Somehow, this was scarier than any of those god-forsaken “pranks'' he pulled. He was an entirely different person, his body wasn't the only thing deteriorating. It was plain as day, his facade was decaying just as fast.

“I..I don’t know how to show that I care about you. I never knew how to care, Derek.” His voice was straining and hoarse, every word laced with agony.

I stayed silent, unsure of what to say. That was a confession I never anticipated from the likes of him. Layers of this boy unfolded one by one, faster than I could fully process them. The very foundation of who I thought Joey was, was crumbling underneath me. It seemed to be shocking himself as well, by his expressions. The vulnerability he expressed to me, it was unlike anything I'd seen. Never would I have thought he cared. He never had shown any empathy or love towards me.

“I never had a good relationship with my parents,” He started, nerves evident in his tone,” My mom was rarely around, when she was she only ever bitched at me and my brother.”

He chuckled sadly to himself, looking down at his mutilated torso, more sadness lacing his expression.

“I’m sure you know what I think of my piece of shit dad. Bastard got me in this situation right now.”

Joey turned to look at me again.

“The only influence I had of siblings was with my brother, who would do just about the same shit I do to you.” He looked almost ashamed of himself.

I was still in shock, quitely bringing my knees to my chest, hugging them. Tears I didn’t know I had begun to stream down my face. All of this tension, all of this pure agony and pain that built up came crashing down in front of me. Just as the very thing that tore me apart daily was being put to an end, the only person who cared about me was dying at the same exact time.

No one truly cared enough about me. I mean, my parents acknowledged me enough, but never would hug me. Never would talk to me unless I needed something. They gave me what I needed, but nothing more. Just food, water, a place to sleep, and a bedroom. After they sent me to this school, I've hardly heard a word from them.

I didn't even know if they had any concern for me, any worries of my safety. Surely they knew about the terrorists. But I couldn't see them making any attempts to get me back home. I couldn't imagine them saying "We want Derek to come home safe and sound."

My cries turned into outright sobs as I fell limp on Joey’s side. He hissed in exasparated pain but did nothing to push me away. Instead, he took his free arm and put it around my shoulders, and held me there. I didn’t know what to think. I felt sick, the combination of confusion and acceptance was flooding my senses. I heard Joey begin to cry more intensely, sitting up more to hug me properly. His blood flooded down his shirt and onto my own, but I couldn't care any less. I couldn't care about anything other than this doomed brotherhood.

For almost a minute I felt cared about. Pure happiness which only existed for a minute. My only impression of a sibling abused me. But I accepted it. I accepted that, I just wanted to feel cared about properly even though this could only last for a few more minutes. Like a thick smog, we both knew we would never truly be able to experience the brotherhood we wanted to.

Between my cries and Joey’s pained gasps, I mustered a tired and exhausted reply,

“I don’t know what the hell I’ve done for you to think I’m your little brother, but I’m not exactly against you feeling like that.”

We lived in that beautifully bittersweet moment for only seconds after I spoke. Joey’s cries eased. They eased down to ragged breaths and wheezing, he slowly fell to the stairs again. I looked down at his face. It was white as paper, a bit of blood dripped down his lip and chin.

This was the end of it, the end of a 5 minute long brotherhood. A 5 minute long family that I would never experience again. And all I could to was wail, not ready to accept it.

He carefully let go of me, instead opting to grip my hand. The grip of which was loosening more and more.

“You have to get out of here kid. Get you and the guys out of here, for me.” He spoke for the very last time.

His breathing slowly came to an end, his hand fell limp against mine. His dead body lay limp and cold against the concrete stairs smeared with his blood. And for a second I laughed, pure disbelief shot through my veins.

“No. Nononono, Joey you’re okay.” I pleaded to no one.

I grabbed his hands staring down hoping he would shoot up laughing, wheezing like this was the best joke he’s played. That he got the reaction he wanted. That he and the other boys would shove me, and walk off laughing and mocking me. For once I wanted him to be the kid who struck fear in all the lower class men's hearts.

But he stayed silent and unmoving.

Sobs and pained pleads erupted from the deepest parts of my throat, agonizingly so. These caught the attention of the quartet of boys who were asked to move away, them rushing over to me.

I fell against Joey’s chest, hugging his lifeless body, praying to some god to let him live. I grabbed his blood soaked t-shirt as if I could pull the life back into him. I wanted to ask him so many questions, I wanted to have an older brother.

The choruses of Billy crying just as hard as me, Hank and Ricky yelling at someone to help, and Scruffy’s failed attempts at reviving him were nothing but background noises. My only thought right now was regret. Pure agonizing regret. All I wished was for these horrible few weeks to end. I wished I could relive those 10 minutes. I would have spoke more, I would have hugged him longer. But it was meaningless. Nothing I could possibly do would bring him back.

The panicked rushing of crying, shouting, running around, and pure fear was cut short as the door swung open. Luis Cali stood with 2 of his men. He menacingly looked at our frantic crying and begging. The shouting and pacing stopped immediately as he gripped me by the hair, yanking me up. He stared into my eyes just for a moment, a look of irritation ever present.

He tossed me off of Joey’s corpse, and against the stair railings, knocking the breath out of me. I quickly scrambled to my feet, desperately trying to get back to Joey. I don’t know why I wanted to go back to Joey. He was dead, he was dead as can be. And all he did was hurt me. Yet I yearned for those few moments we spent in understanding. The best few minutes I have lived through.

“Please let him go!” I wailed, trying to force my way back to him.

Hank grabbed me firmly by the arms, easily pulling me back towards them. I fought back, with all of my might I tried to free myself and stay with Joey’s dead body. My kicks and lunging did little to nothing, but I still tried to fight my way out of Hank's grip.

“This killing was an accident,” Luis stated, not a single ounce of remorse in his voice "Let the authorities know that much.”

His men picked up Joey’s corpse, throwing him around as if he were a ragdoll, taking him away. Much to my and Billy’s dismay.

As his body was carried out and Luis shut the door with force, I silently stopped. I dropped to the floor, my throat tight, and silently understood. Joey wasn’t going to come back. I'd never get an answer as to why he cared about me, never would know what I did right.

I silently rocked balling up in my legs, not wanting to see anyone. I didn't want to see or be seen anymore. I felt pathetic, like an old dog that had been with a family for years, only to be left on the street. Alone, afraid, confused, and heartbroken.

I spoke to no one but myself, inhaling and exhaling.

“Joey was the best older brother I could’ve asked for.”

#yogurt #catering to like 5 ppls #idk what the tags are man #toy soldiers #joey trotta #derek #uhhh #tw blood #tw like everything

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