tommy backpack

Brother For Sale

I thought I wanted a little brother. When I was a stupid six year old.

Now I’m nine, a lot smarter, and I realized I made a huge mistake.

Tommy is the worst. The absolute worst. I hate him. It wasn’t so bad when he was a baby. He cried a lot but it was super cool to say I was a sister. All my friends thought he was super cute too.

It’s when he stopped being cute and starting being annoying.

Keep reading

IKWYDLS {Newt x Reader AU}

Originally posted by dylmasobrodie-sangster

IKWYDLS {Newt x Reader AU} Part 3

Requested: Yes

Author: Joi A. Wade

Summary: The truth is out, but not quite all of it.


I walked through the school with an expressionless face, trying to get through the rest of this klunk of a day already. People must have heard, because everyone was giving me pitiful and sympathized looks, which I really didn’t need right now.

I stopped at my locker, my phone started buzzing for the 50th time in five minuets. (Y/N) may be in deep klunk, but not as much as me. It took every fiber of my being not to answer her calls and texts, and I was slowly breaking.

That’s it.

As I reached for my phone, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning I see Thomas, Teresa, and Ben. 

“What the bloody hell do you want? Come to bang my backpack too, Tommy?” I growled, slamming my locker closed.

The three of them jumped slightly, then Thomas nudged Ben, who nudged Teresa. Giving a sigh, she stepped up close to me, her hands shaking slightly.

“Newt…listen. What happened between (Y/N) and Thomas, the night of the party…wasn’t really an accident.”

“YOU BLOODY TWAT-FACED, SLINT-HEADED, PIECE OF KLUNK!” I screamed, charging at the group of buggers that where laughing at God knows what, but all I could see was bloody red. 

I came face to face with the slint head, that stupid grin I just wanted to wipe off the face of the Earth. He seemed pleased to see me, only sparking my anger even more.

Before he could comment on my full insult, my fist collided with his jaw, and let me tell you something…that wankstain’s face is harder than it looks.

Gally stumbled back, soon collapsing to the ground, hard. Once he recomposed himself, he looked up at me with pure rage, but I could care less. His group of friends, including a few people that were standing in the hall, all just stared, waiting for someone to make the next move.

“You got…some balls, Newton.” Gally spat the blood out of his mouth, raising to his feet.

“Like you did when you and your helpers drugged my girlfriend?” I glared, as he was finally stood on his feet. 

From the look on his face, I knew I struck a nerve.

“H-How..What are you talking about?” He stuttered, those shuck eyebrows furrowed in false confusion. 

By now, a crowed was surrounding us, some having their phones out, hoping to see a fight happen. They were gonna bloody get one.

“OH. So you don’t remember that night at the party? Your party? The one where you were positive Thomas and (Y/N) were going to go to because Teresa was going to be there? I recall you making Ben the one to handle the drinks…deciding to slip something special in Tommy and (Y/N)’s cup. And then making sure Teresa got them to drink it? Does THAT ring a bell?” I glared at him, watching his mouth open and close like a fish. 

Gally huffed, finally letting go of his role in playing innocent. 

“You don’t deserve (Y/N). You never did! She was supposed to be with me, but you took her away from me! So I took her from you.” Gally smirked, noticing how red my face must be getting from my blood boiling. 

So it was true. I broke up with my girlfriend…because of this son of a-

Before I could even process what was happening, I jumped on the bastard, pounding my fists into his face over, and over, and over again. From his reputation I’m surprised I’m actually winning this fight, or that he hasn’t even made an effort to push me off. Thank God for adrenaline, I guess. But when he did, he couldn’t even think straight when he started throwing punches in my direction, only earning him another blow to the head, finishing the job.

Gally laid there, unconscious, bruised and blood dripping from his nose and his mouth. I spat on him for final measures, just to get my point across that I’ve won this fight.

Standing up and brushing myself off, I stared at my shucked up knuckles, then at a camera phone that was directly in front of my face.

And I flipped them off.