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spooderboyandtincan · 4 years

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Please Don’t Kill Flash

TW: Mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of guns, violence

~~~~~

Peter pulled out his phone.

SpiderChild: HAPPYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Where r u????

Happy responded three minutes later. (record timing)

aSpunkyUncle: Sorry kid. Traffic is bad. I’ll be there in a while.

Peter sighed. Happy was often late. He didn’t mind, really, but he was starving.

Tony had been dragged to a meeting by Pepper, and couldn’t escape for at least another two hours.

He wanted to talk to Tony. His spider-sense had been buzzing in the back of his mind. He could barely focus on his classes. Whenever he hugged Tony, though, the humming would disappear.

He was always safe with Mr. Stark.

“Hey, Penis!”

Peter suppressed a groan.

Flash bounded up to him, elbowing him in the ribs. Before the spider-bite, that would have left a bruise.

“What do you want, Flash?”

“What, can’t I talk to my buddy?” he said, slinging a heavy arm around Peter’s small shoulders. “C’mon, Penis, don’t be a spoilsport!”

“Leave me alone,” Peter muttered, shaking off the arm.

Flash slapped his back. “In a bad mood, are we, Parker? Well, I’d try to cheer you up, but…” he shoved Peter forward. “This is much more fun!”

He let Flash drag him and shove him against the wall, slamming his head on the bricks. “Listen, Penis,” he snarled, “you’re gonna pay for what you did!”

“Which is what, exactly?” Peter snorted, unfazed.

“Decathlon practice, remember? You embarrassed me in front of the whole class, even though I’m smarter than you, Parker!”

Peter tried not to roll his eyes. “Okay, Flash, sorry. Sorry for knowing something you didn’t. Sorry for trying to help you out.”

“I don’t need help!” Flash raised a fist. “I told you, Penis, I’m smarter than you!”

“Flash, that’s-” Peter winced. A hot pain pierced through his head.

Danger.

“Flash! Get down, get away-!” he tried to shout.

Until the muzzle of a gun was pressed to his temple.

He froze. Flash stared at him with wide eyes.

Peter knew he could get out of this. In just a few seconds.

But no way would he risk Flash’s safety.

“Okay, dude, okay,” he said, raising his hands slowly. “You can chill with the gun. I’m not gonna run.”

He just had time to think, Hey, that rhymes.

Then the gun slammed into his forehead, there was a shout from Flash, and everything went dark.

~~~~~

“Parker!” Flash whispered. “Parker! Wake up!”

Peter remained still, his head against his chest, his arms bound with thick rope behind him.

Flash groaned, tears in his eyes.

He’d been kidnapped.

He’d been fucking kidnapped.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Whoever you are, you’re gonna pay for this! My parents will kill you!”

That was unlikely. They probably wouldn’t notice he was gone.

Peter blinked, his head throbbing. “Flash?”

“Parker! You’re alive!”

“‘Course. You okay?” Peter tried to clear his head.

“I’m good. I guess. What do we do?”

Peter lifted his head. “We wait.”

“We just wait? Do you think they’re ransoming us?”

“They are, I think. We’ll see when they come in.”

Flash stared at him. He was so calm.

“Why would they ransom us?! What do we do, Parker?!”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said. “They were looking for me, you were just there.” He looked sadly at Flash. “Don’t worry, though. We’ll be fine.”

You can’t promise that, Flash thought. “Why the hell would they kidnap you? You’re poor, you have, like, no money!”

Peter raised his eyebrows. Flash really didn’t know that Tony Stark had basically adopted him?

Flash watched as Peter flinched violently. “Parker?”

“Flash, don’t move, stay still. Don’t talk. They’re coming,” Peter muttered.

The metal door swung open.

Three people walked in, all dressed in red, wearing white theater masks over their faces.

“Look what we have here,” the woman purred, stepping in front of Peter. She tilted his chin up with her sharp nails. He glared. “Stark’s precious son? You’ll bring us a lot, honey.”

“But who is this?” she asked, gazing at the cowering Flash. “An extra?”

“He was there too, miss,” an older man said. “We didn’t want a witness.”

“I see. We can dispose of him later.”

Flash gasped. “No! Please don’t hurt me! I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” the woman pondered, rolling the word in her mouth. “Anything at all?”

“Yes, anything! Please!”

Peter motioned frantically for Flash to stop talking. He could tell the woman was just toying with her prey. She had no intention of letting him live.

“Hey! You said you wanna ransom me?” he said loudly. “Well Flash here, he’s worth a lot! You don’t know it, but he comes from a pretty wealthy family! They’ll pay you to get him back!”

Peter wasn’t good at telling lies, but this one couldn’t be denied. Flash did come from a wealthy family. But he doubted they would pay ransom for him.

“Will they?” she asked. “I doubt it. You can tell this little brat doesn’t appreciate his parents much. So I doubt they appreciate him.”

Flash turned pale, staring wildly between Peter and the woman.

“Harold? Hand me my gun, won’t you?”

Peter stiffened, testing the ropes.

No, he couldn’t let this happen.

The safety clicked off.

He broke the ropes apart.

The bullet fired.

Peter jumped.

~~~~~

Flash screamed, eyes clenched, waiting for the pain.

It never came.

He heard a curse from the woman, and rapid footsteps leaving the room.

He blinked.

Peter lay in a puddle of blood, panting.

“Parker! What the hell?!”

Flash knelt by his side. “What do I do?! Parker?! Hey! What the hell should I do?!”

Peter groaned. “Press on the wound. ‘S okay. I’ll be fine.”

Flash pulled off his sweatshirt and nervously pressed down on the bullet hole.

Peter fumbled with his watch. He pressed a small button, nearly invisible, three times.

“What’s that?” Flash asked.

“‘S for… ‘mergencies. Only,” Peter slurred. He blinked slowly.

“Hey, no! Parker, you gotta stay awake!” He slapped Peter’s cheek.

Peter whimpered. “Misser Stark?”

“What? No! I’m Flash!”

“Oh. Where… where ‘s M’sser St’rk?”

“Who the hell is that?! Why would I know?”

“Mmm.”

Peter’s breathing slowed, irregular, uneven.

“No, no, Parker, stay awake!” Flash cried.

Peter lifted his watch to his face. He pressed a finger to it, the screen turning red, the clasp undone. “Call him. M’ss’r… Tony. Dad.”

Flash took the watch, fumbling around until he found the contact button. There were three on speed dial, labeled IrondadMan, AuntMay, and Doctor Cho.

“Who should I call?”

“Firs’ one. Dad.”

Dad? Peter was an orphan. He only had May, as far as Flash knew.

He pressed the icon. Halfway through the first ring, it picked up.

“Peter?! Peter, are you okay?! I’m coming, baby, hold on!” The voice was deep, panicked, rushed. Flash could hear heavy, scared breathing.

“H-hello? Uh- who is this?” he asked.

Peter smiled wearily when he heard the voice.

“Who the fuck are you?! Where’s Peter?!” the voice snarled.

“Uh- he’s here, sir! He- he told me to call you! He got shot, I don’t- I…”

“He got shot?! Is he awake?! Talking?” the voice sounded even more terrified.

“H-he’s awake. There’s a lot of blood. He needs help, sir!”

“Oh god,” the voice whispered, horrified. “Keep him awake, hear? Do not let him fall asleep!”

Flash turned to Peter, slapping his cheek. His eyes drifted lazily to his.

Peter opened his mouth, trying to choke out a word.

Instead, all that came out was blood.

Flash gasped and dropped the watch. Peter coughed and choked, blood dribbling down his chin.

Flash could hear shouting from the watch. But Peter’s eyes had closed.

“No! Parker!”

~~~~~

It seemed like only minutes had passed.

Flash kept his hand on Peter’s wrist, where his pulse beat unsteadily.

“Please don’t die, Peter. Please.”

He blinked back a tear.

And then the entire building shook.

Concrete crumbled from the walls, gunshots sounded, people shouted.

There was a tremendous roar that shook the foundations. It sounded like the Hulk.

No way.

Flash’s eyes widened as the heavy metal door flew open and landed with a crash.

Iron Man

The Iron Man

This was possibly the worst and best day of his life.

The faceplate lifted, and Tony Stark himself stumbled out, eyes wide, face pale.

He collapsed to his knees, unceremoniously shoving Flash out of the way.

Tony tore off his professional black coat, pressing it gently against the bullet wound.

His hands were shaking, Flash noticed. The great inventor’s incredibly steady hands were shaking.

Tony cupped Peter’s pale face, whispering words Flash couldn’t hear.

He was crying.

Iron Man was crying.

Tony set his fingers on Peter’s pulse, turning frantically to the suit. “FRI! Get Cho here faster!”

Flash jumped when a woman’s voice, strangely robotic but still human echoed through the room.

“Boss, the med team is coming as fast as they can. The structure isn’t safe for them to enter, however. I would recommend bringing Peter to Helen.”

Tony breathed shakily, then leapt into action, the suit forming around him. He ever so carefully lifted Peter up, cradling him against his metal chest.

“Wait- what about me? Are you leaving me?” Flash cried, before Tony could blast off.

The blank, unforgiving mask turned to him. “Kid, I really don’t care right now. Someone from the team’ll pick you up.”

And then he was gone, sprinting down the hallway and blasting into the sky.

~~~~~

Flash sat numbly on the ground, farthest from the blood, until the Falcon swooped through the doorway.

“Flash, right?”

“Yes sir, I am. Flash. Flash Thompson.”

“Huh. Need a ride, kid?”

“Yeah, thanks!”

Flying with the Falcon was more terrifying than he’d expected.

He was screaming most of the time.

~~~~~

Flash stood stunned in the doorway.

He never thought he’d see Tony Stark collapse to his knees and sob, tears flowing like a river.

“Is he gonna die?” he asked nervously.

Tony looked up, his face forming a mask of fury. “No. My kid is not dying.” He stood up, striding towards Flash and wiping tears from his face. “I want you to get out of here, now. Out.”

“Sir… I-I’m sorry!”

Tony nodded. “I know you are. Now get out.”

Flash stumbled from the room.

~~~~~

Flash sat on the cold floor of the medbay hallway. The lights were off, and he regarded every shape with wariness.

Loud footsteps sounded near him, and then Pepper fucking Potts was bending in front of him.

“You okay?”

He shrugged. “Y-yeah. I guess. Thanks.”

She sighed. “Tony didn’t mean to yell. He’s very protective of Peter. Overprotective, most of the time.”

“He was so mad,” he whispered, sniffing.

“He was terrified. Tony snapped.”

“But- but all I asked was if Peter’s gonna die!” he protested.

Pepper winced. “I don’t think you should say things like that, Flash. Everyone here loves Peter, especially Tony. What you said- it’s unimaginable for him.”

Flash stared. “The Avengers love Parker? But- but he’s just some pathetic kid!”

Pepper’s eyes turned to stone. “I do not want to hear you say that again.” She straightened. “Isn’t it about time you went home? I’ll call your parents.”

“No-no, wait! I wanna stay here! I wanna make sure he’s okay!” he cried.

Pepper sighed. “You can stay until Peter’s out of surgery. Then you’ll have to go, understand? Your parents will be worried.”

I doubt it, he thought.

~~~~~

Flash sat in a hard plastic chair. Tony was leaning against the wall by Peter’s surgery room, head in his hands. Pepper rubbed his back comfortingly.

And May Parker knelt by Tony, her arm around his shoulders.

They were a family.

Flash stared. He had been doing a lot of that.

~~~~~

Cho opened the door. Tony jerked his head up.

“He’s okay,” she said, smiling. “You can see him.”

Tony lunged up, and before Flash could blink, he was through the door.

~~~~~

Tony leaned his forehead against Peter’s, clutching both his small hands in one of his. Flash could tell he was talking, murmuring words of comfort.

This was, by far, the strangest day he’d ever had.

Tony Stark was crying in front of him.

He had flown with the Falcon.

Peter Parker, apparently, was the son of Tony Stark?

And the Avengers loved Peter?

The nobody from Queens?

Flash stood there silently, feeling like a nobody himself.

May and Tony were both cooing over Peter, kissing his face, stroking his curls.

After minutes (was it hours?) Tony sat up, still holding Peter’s hand tightly. He glanced around, eyes red, tears staining his white shirt.

When he saw Flash, however, his eyes gleamed with a murderous hint.

“Get him out! Get him out of here, now!” he snarled, standing up. “I don’t want him anywhere near my kid!”

“Tony.” May said, setting a hand on his arm.

“I don’t want him here-”

He spun at the sound of a whimper.

“Petey?”

“M’ss’r... M’ss’r Dad?” Peter choked, tears spilling down his face. “D’n’t kill Fl’sh! ‘S not his fault.”

“Petey,” he whispered, cupping his cheek. “It’s okay, don’t cry, baby, I got you. I’m not gonna kill Flash. It’s okay. Please, don’t cry, sweetheart, I got you. Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

Peter’s big eyes found his. “Not gonna kill him?”

“Shh, no, Petey, it’s okay. I got you. Dad’s here, mimmo. I’m here.” Tony kissed his cheek. “It’s okay.”

Peter smiled. Tony gently wiped tears from both their faces, combing his fingers through his curls.

Peter was okay.

He hadn’t killed Flash.

But he would kill for Peter, without a second thought.

~~~~~

Tag List: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @hold-our-destiny @depuella @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @honeythepooh @bringitonvoldie

If anyone want to be added/ removed let me know!

~~~~~

/DO NOT TAG OR REBLOG AS ST*RKER/

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a-captions-blog · 4 years

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Tags

Below is a running list of triggers I tag for. If there’s something you would like tagged that you don’t see on here, please feel free to let me know. I have anon asks on, and you’re free to DM me anytime as well.

Trigger Tags:

I will tag these as “[thing] tw” so “abuse tw” or “loud noises tw”

ableism

ableist language (words like “psycho” as an insult, etc.)

abuse

animal abuse

alcohol (including mentions)

bdsm (see endnote)

blood

body horror

bruises

csa

cocsa

death

disordered eating

drugs (including mentions)

dysphoria

eating disorder

eye gore

eye horror

flashing images

flashing lights

food

gore

guns

gun violence

incest

insects (including worms and spiders)

kink (see endnote)

loud noises

meat

menstruation

misinformation (often related to unreality)

needles (including needles in human skin)

nsfw (see endnote)

paedophilia (I also will also tag the American spelling: pedophilia)

psychiatric hospitals

psychiatric wards

rape

sanism

self harm

sex (see endnote)

sexual assault

[slurs]; these include slurs against people based on race, sexuality, gender, and neurodiversity. The format for these will be “f slur”, “r slur” etc. I do not tag “queer” as “q slur”

suicide (this includes suicidal ideation in any form, including jokes)

transphobia

unreality (phrases like “this isn’t real” or “you’re in a coma right now”, etc.)

vomit

**Endnote: This blog will not be posting explicit content, but these topics may come up in discussions of other things, so I will tag them accordingly. I am an adult, so if that makes any minors uncomfortable, you are free to unfollow.

I will also tag individual posts with things I think could be triggering.

General Blog Tags

I try to tag each post with what it is or where it came from as well as general information about its content. For example, a Tweet about cats would be tagged #tweets and #cats. In addition to these general tags are any applicable trigger tags. If I’m not sure if something should be tagged, I’ll tag it anyway (better safe than sorry). Posts in other languages will be tagged with the name of that language, both in English and in that language. Images with alt text will be tagged, “id in alt text”. Social justice/current events posts will be tagged with their respective years. Political posts will be tagged with “politics [country]” e.g. “politics brazil”.

And again, if there’s something you’d like tagged, just let me know. Thanks!

#blog meta

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indigosandviolets · 4 years

Text

Flashes of Pain

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x OC x George Luz

Summary: The Battle at Nuenen takes place, and memories come back to haunt Andrew. Andrew and Luz are interrupted by a promotion, and Babe needs to get something out.

Word Count: 2,287

TW: Flashbacks, gore, f-slur is used

Part Nine of We Happy Few

Nuenen, Holland

Andrew was still reeling from what happened at Eindhoven as they all sat on the tanks, riding into Nuenen. Andrew wasn’t sure when they had arrived in Eindhoven, maybe it was during...yeah. It was probably during that.

He had stayed particularly close to Luz, resisting the urge to lean his head on the older man’s shoulder. It was so tempting, the need to be comforted, but he instead sat beside him, staring out into the fields as the tanks seemed to crawl across the countryside road.

“Vincent van Gogh was born in Nuenen,” Andrew hears Luz say.

“Where’d you learn that?” Andrew asks in response.

“Webster.”

“Ah, Harvard.”

Andrew and Luz share a small laugh. “What did he even study, anyway?”

Andrew shrugs. “I don’t know. He doesn’t seem like a lawyer, but that’s the only thing that can come to my mind when I think about --”

Andrew cuts himself off as they pass a woman on the side of the road. She’s barely dressed, her hair shaved off, cradling a baby in her arms. The lump is back, but Luz grabs onto Andrew’s arm, grounding him. Andrew looks over to him, and Luz mouths out, “Breathe, you’re okay.”

Andrew nods and does as he’s told, and before he knows it they’ve passed the woman. He’s calm again, and almost back to his normal self. The tanks slow to a halt as this happens, and Andrew turns to look out at the road, past the tank in front of him. He can’t see too much, but he does see someone walking out, looking through binoculars into Nuenen.

“What’s going on?” Luz aks quietly. Andrew shakes his head in response.

“I don’t know, something happened.”

As Andrew lets out the words, he hears Bull call out, “Lieutenant!” He turns to look at Bull, dropping his binoculars so they hang down, but as he does so, he’s hit in the neck just as Andrew recognizes him as Lieutenant Brewer.

“Shit!” Andrew says, looking out into the field and away from Brewer. He can’t see anything.

“What?” Luz asks. “What happened?”

“Lieutenant Brewer got hit!” Andrew answered, moving his gun down, getting ready to fire. “Sniper.”

“Shit!” Luz repeats, and soon enough they’re off the tank and in the ditches, ready to fight. “How did Brewer get hit? How the hell could a sniper get him?”

“I have no idea!” Andrew tells him. “I just saw him go down!”

“Then where the hell is the sniper?”

“I don’t know!”

Andrew, for one, hated ditch fighting. It wasn’t that it was messy, he could care less about that, but it was that he felt like a sitting duck. At any point, a kraut could run up and mow down a platoon before anyone had a chance to react. Or, maybe, a mortar could hit the ditch and they’d lose at least fifteen guys, on the spot.

Then again, it did provide them cover from an enemy they couldn’t see, so what could he do?

Andrew moved out with Buck, pulling around the town as they clearly couldn’t enter the way they all had planned unless you were inside one of the tanks. The mission was to take Nuenen, and dammit, they were going to do it.

Buck had them behind a brick wall, firing at the Germans they could at least see. They were held up everywhere in the town -- barns, houses, sheds, bushes, everything. Andrew fired with his M-1, standing by Buck as he shouted out orders to the men he was in command of.

“Marin, grenade, eleven o’clock!” Buck shouted, and Andrew complied, unhooking the grenade from himself and taking out the pin before throwing it. The blast wasn’t that big, but it was enough to take back the kraut whose feet it landed at.

And while it did take back one kraut, more kept coming. For every German they took out in this town, two more seemed to replace it. Andrew never thought that he would admit it, but for the first time, he actually felt like there might be too many to take on.

Mainly children and old men my ass, Andrew thought to himself as he fired. Better than ditch fighting.

Andrew felt the air of a bullet that whizzed past him and into the ground just behind him. He looked back to the front of him, to a building that he thought they had already taken out. Andrew moved his aim to a window, looking through to see two krauts inside. It was like he was making eye contact with them.

He’s just a kid! He’s just a kid and I fucking killed him, Luz!

Andrew lowered the M-1, the memories of D-Day suddenly flooding through his mind. He shook his head, trying to clear it as he again focuses on the two Germans.

He wasn’t even going to shoot us! He’s just a kid!

“Marin, fire!” He heard Buck shout.

Andrew knew these two were armed, though. They were going to kill him and Buck and Guarnere and everyone they could hit. He fired, despite the protest in his mind. One German, two Germans down and he was back at the attacking Germans.

To put it simply, there were too many of them. Far too many. So, that meant that Easy had to pull out. As they were doing so, though, Andrew realized that his Lieutenant wasn’t anywhere that he could see.

“Buck?” Andrew called out. “Buck!”

“Just go, Marin!” Someone said, but he couldn’t quite identify who. Something was wrong, and he couldn’t see Buck. “Marin, move!”

Reluctantly, Andrew turned away from the town, pulling back. He could feel the pit of uncertainty grow in his stomach as he continued to search. Maybe Buck had moved quickly and was already with the others, but as Andrew looked and couldn’t see the tall blonde man, that pit only grew bigger as he began to panic.

“Andrew!” A familiar voice said, and he turned to see Luz in full radio-op mode. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find Buck,” Andrew says. “He was right there with me when we were pulling out, and he’s gone. I don’t know where the hell he is.”

“It’s okay, they’re gonna get him, don’t worry about it,” Luz tells him as they begin to climb up into the trucks. “What about you, were you hit?”

Andrew shook his head. “No, no I’m okay, it’s just Buck that’s worrying the hell out of me.” The helmet. Glassy eyes. The blood, spilling from his mouth. But it’s not the young soldier anymore, it’s Buck and Andrew can’t move, he’s killed him. Buck is dead and it’s his fault. “What about you?”

“Just fine.”

The reason as to why Andrew couldn’t find Bull was because he had gotten shot in the ass, the bullet going through and out his skin twice, meaning he had four total wounds. Another contributor to Andrew feeling like something was wrong was that they had lost Bull, but Andrew refused to believe he was dead. No one believed that he was dead, they couldn’t. Bull was a mentor, one of the wisest figures that Easy Company had ever seen.

And, being Bull, he wasn’t dead. He had been injured and survived a night in Nuenen in a barn surrounded by krauts. Even killed one of them, all with shrapnel in his back.

Officially retreating from Nuenen, though, meant that Market Garden had been a failure, simply put. There was no way around not addressing it like it was. They had lost men, more men they would’ve liked, and lost hold of a line they had been trying hard to start, to try and push back the Germans into their own land.

Andrew came to terms with this as he sat beside Luz, a cup of coffee in hand.

“We’re not gonna be home by Christmas,” Andrew says out loud. “I was getting excited, too.”

Luz shrugs. “Not so bad, it’s not a guarantee that we’re gonna be fighting on Christmas.”

“I know, I know, but it would’ve been nice to spend it back home,” Andrew says, drinking from his cup. “Would’ve been nice to turn twenty-three without being shot at.”

“What makes you so lucky?” Luz says, nudging Andrew’s shoulder. “If I had to suffer, so do you.”

Andrew chuckles. “You know I didn’t mean anything like that,” Andrew tells him. “Plus, I got you a good birthday.”

“It wasn’t that good,” Luz says. “You were injured.”

“You didn’t worry over me too much, at least I didn’t let you.”

“You were still injured.”

“And I’m still missing a piece of my ear, but here we are.”

Luz pauses, thinks, and then laughs. He’s laughing and laughing, harder and harder, enough for Andrew to ask him what it was about.

“Your ear is in the middle of France, and someone’s gotta find it sometime,” Luz barely gets out. “I just--the poor kid who finds a chunk of the ear is going to be scared shitless when he finds that shit.”

Andrew didn’t understand what was so funny about it, it was only an ear. Not even a whole one.

“Luz, you amaze me sometimes.”

Luz immediately stopped laughing. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Andrew replies. “Nothing bad, at least.”

“How very reassuring. The man I love won’t tell me what makes me so damn amazing after he doesn’t laugh.”

Andrew chuckles, and pauses. Oh, oh shit. “Luz?”

“Yeah?”

“You love me?”

Luz hesitates. “Uh, shit, I did say love, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah you did.”

“Oh, fuck,” Luz says, leaning over and crossing his body to kiss Andrew, who doesn’t protest in the slightest. “I meant it.”

Andrew nods. “I, uh-“

“You don’t have to say anything, Andrew. It’s okay.”

“No, Luz-“

“Marin!”

Andrew sighs and stands up, looking back to Luz and mouthing, “Sorry,” before heading in the direction he was called. It was Winters who wanted him.

“Yes, sir?” Andrew asks, moving to stand at attention, but Winters motions for him to cut it out.

“It’s okay, Marin, you don’t have to.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sink has, well, upper command has been impressed with you recently.”

“Sir?”

“You’re being promoted to technician corporal.”

Andrew nodded, slightly shocked. “What did I do to get that?”

Winters pauses. “Marin, you’re one of the best shots we have. I’m surprised you’re not a sniper yet, but I can’t change that, now can I?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve just been doing my job,” Andrew says.

“And you’ve been doing a good job at it,” Winters says, handing over the new chevrons. “You know, Marin, I never took you to be so humble.”

“Can I ask why, sir?”

“Not a lot of men are, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“It is hard to be humble, sir.”

Winters chuckles a little bit. “That’ll be all, Marin.”

Andrew nods, stands at attention, and they salute each other before Andrew leaves, rubbing the new patch over with his fingers.

“Andrew?”

Andrew looked up from his stitching. He was halfway through putting on his patch when he saw that it was Babe who was standing at the end of his bed, a stark contrast from the usual Liebgott or Luz.

“Hey, Babe, what’s going on?”

“I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Andrew sighed, immediately knowing what it was. He motioned for Babe to sit down, and he did, as Andrew stuck his needle through the patch to hold it in place.

“Uh, before the drop, when I went to the bathroom,” Babe starts. “Did you...what I saw, were you and Liebgott…?”

“Yes, we were, uh, making out.”

Babe nods. “Are you and Liebgott together?”

Andrew had to think for a moment. “I, uh, I’m not sure, to be honest with you. We haven’t really talked about it.” We haven’t even gotten close to talking about it.

Babe nods again. “Have you two, y’ know-”

“No, Babe, we haven’t. We haven’t gotten that far.”

“But how long have you and Liebgott been doin’ that?”

“D-Day, before we dropped.”

Babe’s eyes go wide. “Who else knows?”

“No one, and we’re gonna keep it like that, alright?” Andrew hadn’t realized he had started pointing to Babe, almost aggressively. “The only people who need to know are me and Lieb. You just happened to walk in at the right time.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just I never seen anything like that before, alright?” Babe says. “I mean, I’ve heard of people like you but I haven’t exactly heard good things about them.”

“You’re from Philly, Babe, you don’t exactly hear good things about anybody.”

Babe rolls his eyes. “Andrew, I’m just, I don’t know how to process it all, is what I’m trying to tell you.”

“Why’s that?”

Babe sticks his tongue into his cheek, thinking for a moment before speaking. “I haven’t really seen, uh, what’s the word?”

“Fairies?”

“Yeah. Well, I’ve seen them, but I haven’t seen them in the army. Never even thought about it.”

“Let me know if you find a few more.”

“Andrew.”

“Sorry.”

“The last time I saw someone like you and Liebgott, it wasn’t pretty.” Andrew nodded slowly. “I just, uh...I’m worried is all, I guess.”

“You don’t have to worry about me and Lieb, Babe. I think we’ll be just fine.”

Babe nods and stands up, turning to leave, but he stops and looks back at Andrew. “We’re not gonna tell anyone about this, yeah?”

Andrew nods, picking up his needle again. “About what?” He replies. Babe smiles at him and leaves.

Lord, give me the strength to deal with whatever the hell I’ve gotten myself into.

tag list: @alienoresimagines @fromcrossroadstoking @easyroses

#band of brothers #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #babe heffron #george luz #george luz x oc #joseph liebgott x oc #andrew marin #we happy few #buck compton #richard winters #dick winters #my writing

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musical-broken-heart · 4 years

Text

Ship: Stenbrough (little)

TW: Insanity, Suicide, Slurs

"Or I'll just take him and you can all go off and grow old." Pennywise gave the deal. They all stared at Bill who struggled in the arms of death itself. "G-go!" Bill yelled to the losers who stepped back. "We can't just leave him!" Eddie yelled as Richie turned to leave. "He brought us here! He can die for all I care!" Richie yelled. Bill looked up at him as though someone had stabbed him in the heart. His eyes flashed with anger but stayed silent. "He's right. Bill, we're sorry but this has gone too far." Stan said guilt in his voice. That's when everyone saw Bill snap. His eyes widened in shock and he lowered his head shaking slightly.

"Y-you've made your d-decision then. G-go. B-but p-promise me one thing." Bill said still not looking at his friends. "Yes?" Beverly asked stepping forward. Everything was silent for a while until he looked up at them only hate for them showing. "D-don't f-forget m-me! N-no matter h-how m-much y-you want to you can't!" Bill shouted his hair falling over his face in a way that left a shadow over his making it look like he was evil or crazy. "I swear Bill," Stan said. He was the only one to say anything the others just nodded.

"See Billy they hate you! They all could be dead because of you. They would all be happy right now if it wasn't for you. If you were good enough, maybe Georgie would still be alive." the clown said calmly. Bill stood there for a moment in shock as he stared at no one. Lowering his head he smiled a little as tears ran down his face. "Kill me then," he said. The losers all gasped at his words. He was the one who was happy and willing to do anything to make them happy why-

"You can't trick me anymore! I know I'm a terrible brother! I know I'm a terrible friend. I know that you... I know that you are trying to get inside my head to drive me mad but the thing is." he stopped and chuckled finally looking up his eyes no longer full of any reason just hate and blood lust. "You can't make a psychotic mess more insane than they already are. I want you to kill me! Don't! I swear to god if you even think about trying to make it non-painful!" he stopped and breathed before looking over to the losers and smiling tilting his head to the side making him look more insane. "Why did you fuckers come? Huh? ANSWER ME!" he yelled fighting against the clown's grip.

"Bill wh-what- Bill please we don't- we just want-" Beverly tried to fid the words but couldn't. "I'm not gonna hurt'cha! Hear me? I said I'm not gonna hurt ya! I just wanna bash your brains in." he said chuckling. "Bash them right the fuck in! STAN! Darling! Light of my life! 27 years from now I will still be here. I will still be here waiting to bring you to hell with me!" Bill yelled as Pennywise picked him up and walked away. Stan almost ran after them but didn't. "We're coming back 27 years right?" he asked. "Yes!" Eddie said. Everyone nodded.

~27 years later~

"NOPE!" Stan yelled as they all stood at the doorway of the house. Throwing his hands in the air he turned around but Richie grabbed him. "Bill would go in for you." he reminded. Stan glared at him and sighed. "FINE! I hate it when you do that." Stan growled walking into the house punching Richie in the arm.

"Never said you had to come back." They all heard someone say in a sing-song voice that was clearly annoyed. Turning around they saw Bill leaning against the wall in a suit. "B-Bill." Stan stumbled over his words as the man walked forward unforgiving eyes staring into the souls of the Losers. "Look who's fucking stuttering now." he chuckled. "Why the hell did you come back?" he asked tilting his head to the side. Stan stepped forward a little and sighed. "Bill we promised never to forget you and we came back for you," he said only love showing in his eyes.

Bill smirked and pulled out a gun pointing it at the curly-haired man. "Say your prayers to whatever god you think exists!" he hissed clicking the gun ready to fire. Stan stepped closer to Bill who's eyes flashed with horror and stepped back. "You don't want to kill me, Bill. IT's in your head. Listen to me." Stan said reaching out his hands. Bills hands were shaking as he grabbed the weapon with both hands tears flowing down his face as he growled. "I said I'd take you to hell! I SAID I HATED YOU ALL! YOU FAGGOTS!!" Bill shouted firing the gun.

Everything was silent everyone looking around. Everyone looked over to Bill who's eyes were widened in shock as a Clown strangled him holding him in the air. Bill looked over to Stan and smiled raising the gun to his head. "Bill? Bill! Bill stop!" Stan shouted but it was too late. The clown dropped dead as Bill laid coughing up blood. Stan ran over to him and cupped his head. "Bill! Bill answer me!" He cried as Bill just smiled and placed a bloody hand on Stan's cheek. "I-I'm sorry," he said his voice fading away. "Don't leave me. W-we c-can get through this! J-just d-d-don't leave me." Stan begged hugging Bill. "I love you Stanny," Bill said truly sincere. "I wish I could have been with you over these years," he said closing his eyes.

"Bill? Bill?! Bill! Don't leave me! Please! Stay w-with me." Stan yelled tears flowing down his face. Eddie was the first to walk over to him. "He's gone, Stan. He's gone," he said softly hugging Stan. Stan looked over to the side to see the gun on the floor. Picking it up he smiled. One bullet left. One way ticket to being with Bill. Eddie didn't notice him grab the gun and started back to the group. "Stan lets- STAN NO!" Richie yelled as he saw Stan raise the gun to his head and pull the trigger. No one saw the smile on his face as he fell onto Bills dead body.

One last breath.

One last moment of pain.

One whole entirety with Bill.

#stenbrough #suicidal #suicide #insanity #losers club #my own work #richie tozier #stan uris #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #pennywise #it chapter one #it chapter 2

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