twenty-for-seven

Soft Side

Requested by Anonymous

***

Prompt: Waverly catches Nicole caring for the baby.

***

Nicole moved into the homestead nine days, four hours, and twenty-seven minutes after Willa was born. But, only Waverly was really counting.

She didn’t really need to move much- Most of her clothes were already stored in with Waverly’s anyways, even before the birth of the newest Earp, and she didn’t own much more than some furniture and a few personal items that didn’t take up much space. But Waverly officially asked her to move in after Willa was brought home from the hospital, because she spent so much time at the homestead helping out with the baby anyways that it already seemed like she lived there, and going home was a hassle for everybody.

Dolls and Doc were also present almost daily, giving all their support and love to the infant, but they also weren’t spending nearly every night there as well, so it wasn’t exactly the same. Nicole was present and available for diaper changes, babysitting, even crying fits at the ungodly hours in the mornings. Tonight was no different.

Waverly groaned and forced her eyes open groggily as the sound of crying echoed in her ears. All her muscles hurt and she hadn’t managed to get more than four hours of sleep in the past week. She was so exhausted that it took her a full minute to even force herself to stand, let alone drag herself down the stairs to get Willa’s bottle ready. Wynonna was collapsed on the couch, and Waverly didn’t dare disturb her sister. She was pretty sure it was the first time the older woman had even closed her eyes since Willa’s birth, and the brunette knew that while she loved her daughter, the birth hadn’t been easy on Wynonna.

She had gone into labor a few days earlier than expected, and though everyone was well prepared for the baby’s arrival, it had still come as a surprise. Willa hadn’t come easily. In fact, it had taken over four days for her birth to actually come to a complete end, including dozens of buzzing doctors always rushing in and out, different methods to attempt inducing labor, and finally, after hours upon hours of screaming and blood, the painful birth of the newest Earp.

And of course, she was welcomed with open arms. Wynonna sobbed (But she also threatened that if anyone mentioned it she’d kill them) and Waverly teared up, clinging to Nicole for support nearly the entire time. The officer had stood bravely by her side and convinced both the Earp sisters that everything would be okay. She had been a rock through the pregnancy, and though Waverly knew she’d never admit it, Wynonna was more than grateful. But even despite this, she still couldn’t hide the emotion and love she already had for the baby when she laid eyes on the baby.

Even Doc had shed a tear or two, and Dolls had forgotten his spite and only supported them through it all. Wynonna was still not officially with either man, and Waverly wouldn’t be surprised if it stayed that way. They were always present, always offering to help out, and she couldn’t live without either of them, but she also couldn’t choose between them, and friendship seemed to work best for the three of them.

Waverly yawned and rubbed her eyes as she warmed up Willa’s formula mix in the microwave. Wynonna had insisted that she didn’t want to have anyone touching her boobs for at least a month, even if it was Willa, so formula had been the way to go. When the bottle was warm enough, but not quite approaching hot, she stirred in two small scoops of the powder and shook gently, doing her best to be quiet, even though she wasn’t sure that noise would be enough yet to wake her sister sleeping nearby. Even Willa’s crying hadn’t yet caused her to stir.

But, now that she stopped to listen and was slightly more awake, Waverly realized that the crying was no longer audible. In fact, she heard what sounded almost like laughter. Confused, and still drowsy from her lack of sleep, Waverly climbed back up the stairs and carefully approached Willa’s bedroom. Standing by the crib with a smile on her face was her fiery haired girlfriend, Willa in her arms as the baby laughed and played with Nicole’s hair.

“Hello beautiful,” the taller woman grinned down at the infant, running her hand over Willa’s face with care. Waverly felt her heart swoon and she leaned quietly against the door frame, not yet wanting to interrupt the moment. Nicole, oblivious to her girlfriend’s presence, sat down on the chair near the crib and cradled the baby in her arms. “You’ve got such a good mommy, you know,” her voice was soft, quiet, and if it weren’t for the absence of other sound Waverly wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

“She loves you so much,” Nicole stroked the baby’s face gently, and Willa grabbed at her finger. “And so does your Auntie. You’re gonna have so much love in your life,” Waverly felt a smile pulling at the corners of her lips and she felt no urge to fight it. “You’ve got two wonderful guys around too, though I’m not sure what you’re gonna call them yet,” it was everything in the younger Earp sister’s power not to laugh. “Maybe you’ll just call them what we call them. I don’t think Daddy Doc really suites him very well,” Nicole chuckled, and Willa stared up at her, almost as if she could understand and absorb every word.

“And they’re all gonna take such good care of you. I’m even gonna be here too, as long as your auntie still wants me here,” Nicole smiled and pressed her lips to Willa’s forehead, and the baby giggled at the sensation. As if to show her approval, Willa reached up and pressed her hand against Nicole’s nose. The auburn haired woman let out a breathy laugh and Waverly couldn’t contain the wide toothed grin on her face. The moment passed quickly however, and a few moments later Willa let out a whimper. It was only then that Waverly stepped inside.

“This might help,” she whispered so as not to startle Nicole too much, holding up the bottle. The officer jumped, but only slightly, and she relaxed when she saw it was just Waverly.

“Thanks,” she took the bottle in her hand and held it to Willa’s lips, watching as the baby instantly took the bottle in her mouth and closed her eyes. Willa cooed softly and Nicole couldn’t help smiling down at her. Waverly took a seat next to her girlfriend in the armchair and leaned into her side, running her hand over Willa’s arm gently.

“You’re so good with her,” she whispered, gently running a finger over the few strands of light colored hair Willa had over her forehead. Nicole smiled and shrugged.

“How long were you watching us?” she asked, slightly adjusting her position to better support Willa’s neck.

“Not long. Just enough to see you’re not always the big strong officer you claim to be,” Waverly teased, pressing her lips against Nicole’s defined jaw. “You’re a good parent,” she continued. The taller woman blushed and dismissed the compliment with an amused shake of her head.

“Willa’s sure got a lot of those handy,” the ginger pointed out. As Willa pushed the bottle away, she held the infant against her chest and rubbed her back gently. “I mean, she’s got you and Wynonna, and she’s got Doc and Dolls when they’re here. She’s not in shortage of parental figures.”

“None of them are you,” Waverly disagreed. When Willa let out a small burp and began to fuss for the bottle again, Nicole laughed and returned her to her cradled position, holding the bottle back up to her lips. “No one else was so strong during her birth, or so willing to take care of her no matter the hour, and I haven’t even seen Wynonna get her to stop crying when she’s hungry,” Waverly trailed her fingers delicately over Nicole’s arm. “She’s going to love you, just like we all do. Just like I do.”

Nicole couldn’t hide her blush at the words. They’d only said the loved each other a handful of times since their first, and that hadn’t been too terribly long ago.

“I love you too Waves,” she smiled, leaning down and pressing their lips together. Another whine disrupted the moment, and they laughed as the pulled apart to see Willa had finished the small bottle. Setting the empty plastic down, Nicole burped her once more before settling the nearly sleeping baby in her crib. The couple stood staring down at the infant as she curled up under her blankets, her hand slightly in her mouth.

“She’s adorable,” Nicole crooned, smiling down at Willa.

“Yeah,” Waverly’s voice mirrored her soft tone, but her eyes were not fixated on the baby in the crib. No, she was instead looking at her girlfriend, who was there through nearly being poisoned, through finding out that Purgatory was overrun by demon revenants and other creatures from hell, finding out Wynonna was the heir to the Earp legend, the incident with Mictian and the demon possession, and through the entire pregnancy. Nicole had stayed by her side through it all, and she was nowhere near wanting to leave. She was sticking around, for as long as Waverly wanted her there, and something told the younger Earp sister that was going to be for a long time. She was a rock, and she had the courage of an officer, but she also was the most caring person on the planet, and she handled Willa like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“Yeah, she really is.”

Emergencies

There are things you learn from being Viktor Nikiforov’s coach, things that no other student will teach you.

“This is an emergency!” A sixteen-year-old Viktor screeches into his ear when Yakov picks up the phone.

“Vitya,” Yakov says, old heart speeding up. “Vitya, are you okay? Was there an accident? Who died?”

“An accident, this is a disaster, Yakov! I told them exactly what to do with my program outfit and they didn’t listen. They screwed up the lace, Yakov, don’t they understand what that’s supposed to represent–”

“Vitya,” Yakov says, “It is 3am in the morning. I am going back to bed.”

By the time Viktor is nineteen, Yakov is an expert in handling Viktor Nikiforov’s “emergencies.” Emergencies that, somehow, he believes only his coach capable of handling.

“Help, it’s an emergency,” Viktor whispers into the phone at eighteen. “Stephane Lambiel is so hot, Yakov, and his program this year–”

Yakov. Is. Done. When Viktor bursts into the rink at twenty, tears glistening in his beautiful blue eyes, dragging a hundred pound Makkachin with him, Yakov does not even blink. “YAKOV IT’S AN EMERGENCY, SHE IS BLEEDING YAKOV–”

“You clipped her nails too short, you fool, we’ll wrap it up and she’ll be fine.”

When Viktor Nikiforov is twenty-four, has two perfect seasons under his belt, the emergencies slow. Yakov does not miss them. He assumes his skater is finally growing up.

When Viktor Nikiforov is twenty-six, Yakov finds him sleeping on a rink bench. When he’s not skating he stares off, almost blank. When Viktor Nikiforov is twenty-six Yakov swings by his apartment to drop off his skating bag because he forgot it at the rink, again, and he finds Viktor crying, sitting straight up on his couch, TV off. When he talks to him, he realizes Viktor wasn’t even aware of the tears.

“Viktor,” he says, as gently as his face and voice can allow, “is this an emergency? How can I help you?”

“It’s fine,” Viktor says. “I’m fine.”

So often, when Viktor speaks, Yakov does not believe him. 

Things change, at the rink. Yakov tries to make sure they do. Things get a little better. There are no emergencies.

Yakov is resting on a chair in the corner at the banquet of the Sochi GPF, exhausted by small talk and schmoozing with sponsors. He is ready to go to bed. 

Then a twenty-seven year old Viktor Nikiforov is sprinting towards him, Armani jacket practically ripped open, blue eyes alight.

“YAKOV, IT’S AN EMERGENCY!”

Here he comes, Yakov thinks. Here we go

protector / protectee starters

  • “no. you can’t go, it’s too dangerous.”
  • “it’s not dangerous. i’ll be fine.”
  • “i’m not going to let anything happen to you.” 
  • “you can’t keep me safe from everything.”
  • “just be careful.” 
  • “i’m always careful.”
  • “you’re going to get yourself hurt.”
  • “i won’t get hurt, i promise.”
  • “i won’t let them hurt you.”
  • “you can’t save me from this.”
  • “please try and stay out of trouble.”
  • “if anything happened to you…” 
  • “i’m not sure how to keep you safe.”
  • “i’m not going to let you out of my sight.”
  • “this is the only way to keep you safe.”
  • “you can’t keep an eye on me twenty four seven.”
  • “everywhere you go, i go.”
  • “it’s not your job to protect me.”
  • “it’s my job to protect you.”
  • “don’t worry, i’ve got you.”
  • “no one will hurt you as long as i’m breathing.”
  • “you don’t understand how dangerous this is.”
  • “please come back in one piece.”

anonymous asked:

you antifa guys are actually more hateful and violent than any neo nazi group in the 21st century. its fucking disgusting and you should be branded as terrorists just as much as the KKK

We’d usually just block you, Anon, but we’re going to use your message as a reminder of where the violence is coming from in 2017.  Off the top of our heads, here’s what the year has looked like so far:

January 20, 2017: A right-wing extremist shoots a protestor at a Milo Yiannopoulos event at the University of Washington. 

January 29, 2017
: Alexandre Bissonnette walks into a mosque in Canada during evening prayers and opens fire, shooting 17 people and killing six of them.

January 2017: Over 40 Jewish centers in the U.S. receive bomb threats.

 February 22, 2017:  Adam Purinton tells two men from India to “get out of my country” then shoots both plus a bystander, killing one.

February 28, 2017: a mosque in Toronto is set on fire by arsonists.

March 12, 2017: a mosque in Ypsilanti, MI. is set on fire by arsonists.

March 20, 2017: James Jackson arrives in Manhattan with a sword and stabs the first black man he sees to death.  He later tells authorities he “intended to kill as many black men as he could.”

March 24, 2017: Yelling “I hate Muslims!” a man in Minneapolis stabbed a Somali man in an attempt to kill him.  

March 26, 2017: A racist mob attacks a 15-year-old Polish boy in Gloucestershire and, when a local Asian shopkeeper tries to intervene, attack him as well with crowbars and baseball bats, then attempt to run him over with a car.

March 31, 2017: A 17-year-old Iranian/Kurdish boy is nearly beaten to death by a mob of eight people in Croydon after he revealed to them that he was a refugee.

April 6, 2017: A Charlotte store is set on fire by an arsonist who leaves a warning message for the shop owner that he “did not want any refugee business owners and that they would torture the owner if they did not leave and go back to where they came from,” according to police.  It was signed “White America.”

MAY 5TH: EDITED TO INCLUDE:

April 30, 2017: A  white man storms a pool party in San Diego and shoots four black women, two black men, and one Latino man while allowing white attendees to leave.  One victim dies while the other six sustain critical injuries.


MAY 10TH: EDITED TO INCLUDE:

May 5, 2017: A man walking his dog on South Beach in Miami is confronted by two men who call him a “fucking faggot,” then attack him, beating him unconscious.  At one point in the attack, one of the attackers shouts  “all faggots need to die and we’re going to make sure they do!”

MAY 18TH: EDITED TO INCLUDE:

May 14, 2017: Vandals spray-paint hate graffiti on the home of a black family in upstate New York before attempting to set the house on fire while the family slept.  Although the family escaped unscathed, their garage burnt to the ground and their house suffered some damage.

May 17, 2017: A homophobic mob break into the home of a gay couple and shoot and stab both men to death.  

MAY 23RD: EDITED TO INCLUDE:

May 20, 2017: University of Maryland student and member of the “alt-Reich” facebook group Sean Urbanski walks up to 22-year-old Richard Collins III, who is black and who Urbanski does not know, and stabs him to death in an unprovoked attack. 

May 27th: EDITED TO INCLUDE:

May 24, 2017: A barrage of doxxing, rape threats, and death threats received by trans comic book artist Sophie Labelle forces her to cancel an appearance and event at a Halifax book store, which also received bomb threats and threats of attacking the event.  Labelle is forced into hiding.

May 26, 2017: Three men intervene on a MAX train in Portland when they witness another man verbally abusing two Muslim women with an Islamophobic tirade.  The Islamophobe responds by pulling out a knife and stabs the three interveners, killing two of them.  

MAY 30th: EDITED TO INCLUDE:

May 27, 2017: A white man drives his pickup truck through a campsite, targeting the Native Americans camping there while yelling racial slurs at them.  He intentionally drives over two Native American men, killing one and injuring the other.

June 3rd: EDITED TO INCLUDE:

March 3, 2017: A Sikh man is shot and injured in front of his Seattle house by a white man waring a mask, who yells at him to “go back to your country!”

May 27, 2017: A 34-year-old Anthony Hammond lets loose with a flurry of racial slurs directed at a black man in a parking lot, then pulls out a machete and stabs the man before barricading himself in his apartment for several hours, until finally surrendering to police.

JUNE 13th: EDITED TO INCLUDE:

January 1, 2017: 19-year-old Nathan Richardson encounters 67-year-old jogger Wenqing Xu and beats him to death in an unprovoked, random attack.  After committing the murder, Richardson texted his friends that he “fucked sum chink up. Bodied him. I think pure crime scene – his head’s gone,”

JUNE 19TH: EDITED TO INCLUDE:

June 18, 2017: two men armed with baseball bats attack a group of Muslim teenagers, kidnapping a 17-year-old girl, who they beat to death, dumping her body in a pond.

June 1, 2017: A Princeton professor and racialized woman is forced to cancel a three-city lecture tour to promote her book about the Black Lives Matter movement after receiving over 50 death threats.

June 19, 2017: Shouting “I’m going to kill all Muslims!” 47-year-old Darren Osborne drives a courier van through a crowd of Muslims leaving a Finsbury mosque, killing one person and injuring ten others.

JULY 4TH: EDITED TO INCLUDE:

January 28, 2017: a First Nations woman walking with her sister is struck by a trailer hitch hurled from a passing vehicle.  After struggling in hospital for several months, she succumbs to her injuries.  

June 21, 2017:  an Islamophobe approaches a Muslim man and woman sitting in a car stopped at a traffic light and knocks on the window.  When the driver rolls down the window, the Islamophobe sprays the driver and passenger with acid, severely burning both.  

JULY 16TH: EDITED TO INCLUDE:

February 21, 2017: a 24-year-old transgender woman is shot and killed in Chicago, IL. 

February 26, 2017: a transgender woman is shot and killed in New Orleans, LA.

March 1, 2017: a transgender woman is stabbed to death in New Orleans, LA. 

March 22, 2017: a 38-year-old transgender woman is shot and killed in Baltimore, MD.

April 21, 2017: a 28-year-old transgender woman is shot and killed in Miami, FL. 

May 17, 2017: a 34-year-old transgender woman is shot and killed in Fresno, CA.

July 2, 2017:  a 28-year-old transgender woman is shot and killed in Lynchburg, VA. 

In case you have trouble counting, Anon, that’s three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve shootings, three four arsons, two three four seven eight nine stabbings, two three four mob beatings, over 40 41 bomb threats and an acid attack by bigots, Islamophobes, nazis and racists so far this year.  Eight Nine Eleven Twelve Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-four twenty-five twenty-six people are dead because of these bigoted attacks and fifteen twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-five thirty-five thirty-seven were severely injured.  

But it’s anti-fascists that people should be worried about, right?

“you should be branded as terrorists just as much as the KKK“ 

Really, now?  Anti-fascists are as much terrorists as the KKK, a terrorist organization which murdered over 3000 people in lynchings, arsons, bombings, etc. over its 150-year history, are we? 

Maybe it’s time you learned about the logical fallacy of false equivalence, Anon!

  

  • someone: hey i haven't seen you in a while how are you?
  • my adhd ass: i've been in a hyperactive swing and i've been awake for eighteen hours. i learned everything there is to know about chocolate chip cookies by listening to twenty seven youtube videos simultaneously. my leg started shaking twelve hours ago and i can't get it to stop. my last meal was the vague idea of a piece of toast. i have no idea where i am or what day it is, sharon. that's how i am.
Jungkook’s Fics Recommendations PT1

Jungkook 

OneShots

Series

Series Part 2

my name is Stanley Almodovar III
i carry the name of my father and his father before me
i’m twenty-three years young
i dyed my hair saturday but no one got to see it sunday morning
my name is Amanda Alvear
i am twenty-five years young
people know me as a pharmacy tech, the girl who lost almost two hundred pounds, the girl who takes too many selfies
but the only place i was truly myself was where i was that night
my name is Oscar Aracena
i am twenty-six years young
i’m a student at Valencia College
i was so close to getting my degree… so close
my name is Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala
i am thirty-three years young
i am a supervisor at the OneBlood donation center
i never did know if my job was the one who tried to save my life
my name is Capt. Antonio Davon Brown of the U.S. Army Reserve
i am thirty years young
i almost have my doctorate degree of management in organizational leadership
almost
my name is Darryl Roman Burt II
i am twenty-nine years young
i just received my master’s degree in Human Resources Management
tonight, i was celebrating
mi llamo Jonathan Camuy
soy es veinticuatro anos
trabajo en una cadena de televisión española
realmente estaba deseando volver a trabajar el lunes
my name is Angel Luis Candelario-Padro
i am twenty-eight years young
soon, i will be an ophthalmic technician
i cannot wait to begin my new job in a few days
my name is Omar Capo
i am twenty years young
i love to dance
i always said i wanted to die doing what i loved
my name is Simon Carrillo
i am thirty-one years young
my partner and i just came home from a little getaway to Niagara Falls
i was really looking forward to our next vacation together
my name is Luis Daniel Conde
i am thirty-nine years young
my best friend is  Juan Pablo Rivera Velazquez
he’s been by my side since high school
my name is  Juan Pablo Rivera Velazquez
i am twenty-two years young
my best friend is  Luis Daniel Conde
seems only fitting we left this world together
my name is Cory James Connell
i am twenty-one years young
my brother is getting married this fall and i am to be his best man
don’t tell him but i have no idea what to say in my speech
my name is Tevin Eugene Crosby
i am twenty-five years young
i am the owner of a marketing firm, Total Entrepreneurs Concepts
hard work truly does pay off; i can’t wait to share my latest meme with all of my facebook friends when i get home tonight
my name is Anthony Luis Laureano Disla
i am twenty-five years young
i love to dance, i want to be a dancer
tonight, i want to go dancing with my friends
my name is Deonka Deidra Drayton
i am thirty-two years young
for the first time in a long time, i can finally, confidently, say
that i am happy
my name is Leroy Valentin Fernandez
i am twenty-five years young
i love to sing
no matter what happens in life, no one will ever take my voice away from me
my name is Mercedez Marisol Flores
i am twenty-six years young
i am studying literature at Valencia College’s West Campus but my true passion is party planning
i’ve been thinking about switching majors
my name is Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz
i am twenty-two years young
all i want to do is make people smile
i’ve always thought that laughter could cure anything
my name is Paul Terrell Henry
i am forty-young years young
i am the proud father of two amazing kids and i have the most magnificent boyfriend
i cannot thank god enough for all of my blessing
my name is Frankie Hernandez
i am twenty-seven years young
i have a little sister, she’s one of my best friends
i cannot wait to see the person she becomes when she grows up
my name is Miguel Angel Honorato
i am thirty years young
i have three sons who i love more than life itself
i hope they will enjoy what i have planned for the next birthday party
my name is Jimmy De Jesús
i am fifty years young
i love my job but i am so thankful i have tomorrow off
i plan on having a good time tonight
my name is Javier Jorge-Reyes
i am forty years young
i am so, so proud of who i am
no one can take that away from me
my name is Jason Josaphat
i am nineteen years young
i love life, i love my life
and it’s only just begun
my name is Eddie Justice
i am thirty years young
i have a huge family, but i am a mama’s boy at heart
i always make sure to text my mom everyday
my name is Christopher Leinonen
i am thirty-two years young
i am madly in love with my boyfriend, Juan Guerrero
i cannot wait to see what the future has in store for the two of us
my name is Juan Guerrero
i am twenty-five years young
i am madly in love with my boyfriend, Christopher Leinonen
after a long week at work, i just want to unwind with my love tonight
my name is Alejandro Martinez
i am twenty-one years young
i have only been living in Florida for two years
but i have always met so many kind people here; that must be why it is called the “sunshine state”
my name is Brenda Lee Marquez-McCool
i am forty-nine years young
i beat cancer twice
and i have never felt more alive
my name is Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez
i am twenty-five years young
i am studying health care management at the Ana G. Mendez University’s Orlando campus
all i want to do is help people
my name is Kimberly Morris, but you can call me ‘KJ’
i am thirty-seven years young
i moved to Florida to be closer to my mother and grandmother
i love my job as a bouncer at Pulse Nightclub
my name is Akyra Murray
i am eighteen years young
i just graduated from West Catholic Preparatory High School
my name is Geraldo Ortiz-Jimenez, but you can call me Drake
i am twenty-five years young
i love Selena Gomez
i hope to meet her one day
Joel Rayon Paniagua
i am thirty-one years young
i love dancing
i am going to meet my friends for a night of dancing
my name is Jean Carlos Mendez Perez
i am thirty-five years young
not to brag, but i am the best salesperson Perfumania
you can ask Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon
my name is Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon
i am thirty-seven years young
growing up wasn’t easy but i can finally say that i am comfortable in my own skin
and i am lucky enough to have Jean Carlos Mendez Perez by my side through it all
my name is Enrique L. Rios
i am twenty-five years young
i am from New York
but i came to Florida to celebrate my friend’s birthday
my name is Eric Ivan Ortiz Rivera
i am thirty-six years young
i don’t really like clubs
but it’s for a friend, so tonight, i will go
my name is Xavier Emmanuel Serrano
i am thirty-five years young
i have a five year old son who is my entire world
i just hope i will raise him to be a genuine and compassionate person
my name is Christopher Sanfeliz
i am twenty-four years young
i am a personal banker at J.P. Morgan Chase bank
i am very thankful to have Sundays off, especially tonight
my name is Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan
i am twenty-four years young
i am a proud mom and wife
my youngest baby is three months old
my name is Jean Carlos Nieves Rodriguez
i am twenty-seven years young
i just brought my first house
i just want my mom to live somewhere nice
my name is Edward Sotomayor Jr.
i was named after my father
i am thirty-four years young
i love my boyfriend and i love adventure
my name is Shane Tomlinson
i am thirty-three years young
i am the lead singer in a band
i love to bring music to the lives of others
my name is Martin Benitez Torres
i am thirty-three years young
last month, i enrolled in college
i hope to be a pharmacy tech
my name is Juan Rivera Velazquez
i am thirty-nine years young
i love being a hair stylist
 i love making people feel beautiful
my name Luis Vielma
i am twenty-two years young
i love my job, especially working on the Harry Potter ride at Universal
but one day i really want to become an EMT
my name is Jerald Arthur Wright
i am thirty-one years young
i have a huge family, both biological and my coworkers 
tonight i am celebrating my friend’s birthday
—  say their names
(cc, 2017)

“If I did something wrong, it was out of ignorance. Maybe I was too strict with him. I was in the army for twenty-seven years so that’s all I knew. He’s really pulled away lately. He doesn’t go to church. He doesn’t care about school. He thinks he knows everything and that we don’t understand anything about his life. So he always locks himself in his room. Recently he told me that he hated me. And I lost my temper and told him that he was no longer my son. Both of us apologized but things are still difficult. I think he’s just very uncomfortable with life. Maybe he feels like the black sheep of the family. My wife and I are professors and both his sisters are doing well. I just don’t know what to do. I’m trying to pull back now and be more lenient. I punish him less. I stopped taking away his phone when he doesn’t do his schoolwork. I don’t want him to rebel any more, but when I back off, it’s hard to be strict again and provide structure. So I just don’t know. I’m reading books to figure out how to reach him. I want him to understand that it doesn’t matter to me if he’s successful in a professional way. I just want him to have some sort of purpose.”

(Santiago, Chile)

Day One Hundred and Twenty-Seven

-After a lengthy medical leave, I have once more donned my red and khaki and returned to my rightful place at the register. I find the store much the same as it always was. An unsettlingly muggy climate. The aisles, bustling with guests from every demographic, all united in the common pursuit of the best deals. An inescapable air of mystery and ripe infant following wherever you go. It is good to be back.

-A man in his fifties returned twenty-five unopened Hot Wheels cars. I wish that I know what could have gone so, so very wrong.

-An elderly pair of women purchase Minions toothpaste, a Minions toothbrush, and a Minions board game. Their passion leaves me certain that they are not gifts. Their choice of passion leaves me wondering one thing: Why?

-I listened on as a trio of grade school girls gathered to discuss having watched the notoriously family-friendly smash hit, Deadpool. At first, I believed them to be bluffing, however they went into such detail that I came to realize that the nine year-olds were actual consumers of this movie. The three have proven themselves to possess only the hardest of cores and are not to be trifled with.

-A young man came through sporting a shirt which showed him to be a member of the local hammer wrestling team. I have never heard of any such sport, but if it is at all like how it sounds, I am very interested.

-The Hot Wheels man approached my lane to purchase more of the same cars he had just returned. He only picked up half as many cars this time around, however. This man has been hurt before, so I am glad to see him being careful moving forward.

-Rather than the normal affirmative of “Okey-dokey,” a woman crafted her own, replying to her total with a confident, “Obi-Kobe.” Once I establish my Hammer Wrestling team, I have now been inspired to start up a Jedi Basketball club.

-A toddler screamed and cried and kicked and fought when the ball he had been clutching, a blue orb much larger than he himself, was taken away. The tyke refused to calm down until it was once again safely in his keeping. I am glad to see such a wise child, so proficient at prioritizing. After all, it is never too early to learn that ball is life.

silverbutterfly17  asked:

Tell us how Steve managed to cause a disaster on his bicycle, only hours after he was banned from using motorized vehicles.

you must know steve pretty well, because that is exactly what happened.

the morning after throwing yet another motorcycle at a supervillian, steve woke up early and decided to go out and get bagels. not at all unusual, except that his favorite bagel place is in brooklyn. so naturally steve decided to just bike there.

tony keeps a dozen or so bikes in the vehicle garage, and pretty much every one of them is weirder than the one before. one is a concept made by ferrari; another one is made from bamboo and was a gift from an MIT student whose research he funded. one appears to have some sort of rocket engine attached. with selections like that, you can see why steve chose the oldest, plainest bike in the group.

what steve did not know was that this was the Deathbike.

see, when tony was 14 and starting at MIT, he wasnt licensed to drive and needed a way to get around campus quickly. so, like many other college students, he got a bike. a very nice, high-end bike, of course, but otherwise perfectly innocuous. (it was a bit too big for him. he insists it wasnt, and that he’s not short.)

tony rode it home and painted it black.

within the first month of owning the Deathbike, tony ran into two people, was run into three times by other cyclists, and just barely missed being hit by a car. tony refused to admit that either 1. the bike was cursed or 2. he was just a terrible cyclist, and instead painted a tiny white skull on the side of the bike for every collision, and rode it for the rest of his time at MIT. somehow, he survived, and no one was seriously injured. (he admits that there may have been a few broken bones. but he paid the medical bills, so it was fine.)

by the time steve took the bike out, there were twenty-seven little skulls.

steve knew none of this, and headed out on the sidewalks aboard the Deathbike. he made it a block or two on thankfully empty sidewalks before tony’s modifications kicked in.

little 14-year-old madman stark, drunk on alcohol and puberty, decided that his two-wheeled killing machine didnt go fast enough. so, using the genius and lack of foresight the stark bloodline had given him, he made some changes. and now the Deathbike has a little electric engine that kicks in after a certain speed, which basically increases how fast the bike goes per pedal. tony says the fastest he was ever clocked on it was about forty mph–but insists he could have made it faster, except he didnt want to make it too bulky.

steve was doing fifty miles an hour by the time he was six blocks from the tower.

since steve is himself, instead of maybe slowing down when he realized how fast he was going, he decided to see how fast he could get. and it turns out that a supersoldier on a bike built by teenage tony stark can go plenty damn fast.

a traffic cam on the brooklyn bridge clocked him at nearly 115 mph.

but dont forget–this is the Deathbike. it earned its name, and would fulfill its mildly inconvenient legacy regardless of who was riding it. 

also, its tires were never built for that kind of stress. 

steve turned around the corner of the block where the bagel shop is going some eighty-odd mph (having slowed down to turn), and hit a heap of cardboard. if he’d been going slower, or if the wheels had been in better shape, he might have been able to brake in time. as it was, he was still going pretty fast when he hit it. and since the universe loves to laugh at steve, the pile of cardboard was shaped pretty much like a ramp.

steve and the Deathbike went airborne.

somehow, the early morning commuters failed to notice captain america hurtling through the sky on the worlds most sadistic pedal-powered monster, so when he landed in the bed of an old metal pickup, nobody checked on him when he didn’t pop right back out. instead, the Deathbike, steve, and steve’s shiny new concussion remained right where they were, in blissful unconsciousness.

when steve finally woke up, he was somewhere in southern virginia, and there was a very confused pickup truck driver wondering how the heck he’d wound up with a giant man and a bike in his truck.

we would have made steve bike back, but we didnt want to tempt fate. instead we sent a quinjet.

the Deathbike was unscathed.

steve is not allowed to use bicycles any more. 

Gummy Worm Giveaway (Peter Parker x reader)

Originally posted by guyattime

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Spider-Man swings in to save Y/N from a late night mugger. But, instead of gushing over her new hero, she easily realizes who’s behind the mask.

Requested: yes (anon)

Warning: language

Here’s number five! I’m hoping to put out my first prompt list request later tonight! Thx for sending this in! MASTERLIST BELOW!

MASTERLIST   <———–

__________________________________________________________________

All you wanted to do on this late Tuesday night was go down to the twenty-four hour shop and buy some gummy worms. Your hunger had been eating you up by the minute as you paced across your floor, debating your thoughts. You finally gave in to your grumbling stomach and hopped off your bed and out the door. Did your parents know you were out this late? No, because they were out this late at a work function, trusting you to be a good child and stay at home. But, did you listen? Of course not. Because your mind tended to flip from topic to topic, your sneaky thoughts always giving in.

So, you made the seven minute walk to the store. Seven minutes, that’s it. You would walk your hungry ass down happily all the way to the store, using your phone’s flashlight occasionally when approaching darkened areas on the streets, and walk in and buy your beloved gummy worms.

But now, you were certainly regretting that action. Once you turned the corner to continue your trek to your venture of a full stomach, you felt a presence take place quietly behind you. You didn’t dare turn around, an uneasy feeling filled your residence as you heard each footstep creep daringly behind you. Your pace quickened slightly as if on instinct, but you still stared dead on forward, continuing your now hopefully brisk walk to the store without company.

The deep breaths of the person slowed down, creeping closer and closer to your ear. Your blood began to run cold, fear hitting you suddenly like a truck as you thought to yourself, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, what do I do? Do I approach the seemingly creepy stranger, or do I pick my pace up as fast as I can and run my ass all the way there?”

Before your conscience decided what your heavily debated decision would be, you felt two hefty arms wrap themselves around your frame, yanking you off the ground.  Fear filled your eyes quickly, your heart beating at a rapid rate as you realized the situation you were in.

Your arms were being held tightly against your body, movement being stagnant at this point. Your legs flailed from your body as you felt a sweaty, dirty hand clamp itself over your mouth to hide your yet to be heard screams.

“Shh, shh. Stay quiet and give me all the fucking money you have or this won’t end well at all,” the stranger’s voice muttered in close proximity to your right ear, his breath hitting the side of your face as if a snake slithered along your jaw bone. You attempted to kick your legs back and forth, trying to wriggle out of his tight and horrid grasp on you, failing completely.

Running wasn’t option because you couldn’t. Yelling, screaming bloody murder for help wasn’t an option because you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything. This psycho mugger was going to do god knows what to you and you had no fucking idea what to do.

In a split second, the mugger reached behind him, almost as if he was pulling out something to hold you down with while he stole every penny you had. Your eyes weren’t even filled with fear anymore, they were dazed with every frightful emotion you could possibly think of in the book.

But, before he could complete the task of pulling out some kind of weapon to scare you with, his grasp around you loosened completely as his body suddenly flew back, slamming into a pole. You immediately responded to the relieved feeling throughout your body, heaving a huge breath of air.

“Hey, buddy! Better think twice before attempting to mug someone in the middle of the night again!”

Your head snapped behind you, eyes widening to the size of saucers as the man who a just a few seconds ago had you in a death hold, was now trapped against the street-light, a spider-like web holding him in place.As he struggled to get out of his now death hold, your head moved in the the direction of a new presence taking place near you. Your eyes land on a red and blue suit standing on the building above you, mouth opening wide open at the person standing, well above you.

Spider-Man. He saved you.

Your stomach did a flip as the superhero stood clear as day, right in front of you. His black and white eyes looked down at your form, standing underneath the dim street-light and he smiled in his mask at your presence. He leaped down from the building, landing on the sidewalk in front of you. Your stature stood entirely still as he walked closer to you, shock filling your insides.

His lanky body walked towards you, his mask moving slightly as he asked you, “Are you okay?”

His concerned voice hit your heart and you melted, hating that someone could affect you like that. You just nodded your head slightly as you moved closer to the hero.

“Need a lift?”

__

“Thank you so much for saving me,” you spoke to him as soon as you gained composure after everything that’s happened. But, nervousness still rubbed your voice as you stood before him, outside your room on the fire escape.

He leaned against your bedroom window, folding his arms across his chest, “You’re welcome.”

Your face tinged pink at his casual yet sultry attitude towards the matter. You breathed a huge sigh before sitting on the small bench, your mind still running with thoughts of tonight’s previous events. Your head popped up at the sound of him moving from leaning against your window to walking towards you, “Can I just ask why you were out this late on a Tuesday night?” his voice scratchy and suspicious as his head tilted to the side almost trying to be amusing.

A slight smile spread across your face at his actions, chucking a little before responding, trying your best not to sound like a complete dumb ass, “I was hungry. Like, really hungry,” you emphasized the word really before continuing. p>

“I just wanted some gummy worms from that twenty-four hour store seven blocks away. Which obviously wasn’t the best idea.”

You finished, realizing that your attempt to not sound stupid completely failed you as Spider-Man leaned his head back, emitting a deep chuckle at your story.

“Obviously,” he muttered slyly, resting his hands on his hips.

Holy fuck.

“Hey Peter, you know that using the ‘Stark Internship’ card can’t get you away from everything, right?” you questioned your once again late lab partner in the middle of sixth period.

He sighed, rolling his eyes and sitting down next to you, “Obviously.”

You knew you’d heard that unrecognizable voice from somewhere. The scratchy yet slightly high voice rang in your ears so evidently it was almost as if someone had blown a bull horn in your ear.

Your eyes enlarged as the realization slapped you in the face. You didn’t think twice before shooting straight up from your spot, hands by your sides before yelling in exasperation, “PETER?”

“What?” he questioned, darting your way at the sudden sound of his name, not realizing he’d been caught. Once he saw your mouth agape like a fish, his eyes widened behind his mask, defeat taking over.

Your finger immediately shot up, pointing at him as you got closer to him. He saw your actions and backed away quickly, you two moving in circles for minutes before you shouted, “Oh my god it is you!”

He ripped his mask off and ran closer to you, both hands set on your shoulders as he began to shake your entire frame from shock, “Y/N you have to promise me won’t say anything to anyone!”

His wispy brown hair fell in front of his forehead, bright brown eyes staring directly into your Y/E/C ones. The fear and guilt radiated off his body you could sense it against you, your cheeks tinting pink at his sudden vulnerable state.

“I promise, Peter. I won’t,” you swore, truth flooded his ears and he began to felt somewhat ease with the you wide eyes standing in front of him.

He let you go and walked to stand next to you, arms leaning against the railing, a sigh emitting from his figure. You followed his actions your body becoming tired from all of tonight’s happenings.

Wait, why did this make him even cuter than before?

You laughed to yourself your weariness getting the best of you, causing you to think exceedingly truthful all of the sudden. You leaned over and saw his exhausted expression, knowing he never meant to let his secret let go so easily.

You nudged him with your shoulder, turning towards him, “If it makes you feel any better, having Peter Parker save me from a mugger was at the top of my bucket list.”

He looked in your direction, a smile spreading his pink lips, eyes smiling with it as he realized that as of right now, Peter was greater than Spider-Man.

And you knew it too.

i’m sure people have talked about it before but the potential for hilarity with a fake ah crew gavin who doesn’t know how to drive is so great to me

like maybe they’re in the middle of a heist and gavin and michael are paired off to cause mayhem somewhere, and they need to make a quick getaway but michael managed to smash up his glasses somehow (fuckin’ knew i should’ve worn contacts goddammit) so he tosses gavin the keys like “i can’t see shit, you gotta drive”

and gavin looks at michael, wide-eyed, and says, “well, i don’t know how.”

there’s a good few seconds of silence, and then michael deafens absolutely everyone in their right ears over the comms. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T DRIVE YOU’RE FUCKING TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD ARE YOU KIDDING ME WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO NOW MIGHT AS WELL SHOVE THIS WHOLE FUCKING CAR UP MY ASS FOR ALL THE GOOD IT DOES US JESUS CHRIST

they manage to make it back, michael driving and gavin yelping in terror every seven seconds, that’s a tree, that’s a tREE, michael, michael(YOU SHUT UP RIGHT NOW YOU DON’T GET TO COMPLAIN SHUT UP JUST SHUT UP)

and then michael collects the crew and points at gavin like “somebody better fuckin’ do something about this.”

jack sighs and hauls gavin out the door by his arm. they return less than an hour later. gavin looks sheepish. jack looks haunted. 

“what happened?”

“we went to an empty parking lot so he could practice. like three acres of empty space.”

“and?”

“he managed to find and crash into every single fucking light pole. every single one. my car looks like it rolled down fucking mount chiliad.”

ryan shrugs and stands up and drags gavin back out to that same parking lot in his own car, gavin protesting the entire time. he gets gavin behind the wheel and then pulls a handgun out of his jacket and points it at gavin’s right knee.

“hit anything with my car and i shoot you. and then i’ll shoot you again for getting blood on the upholstery,” he says, talking over gavin’s yell of alarm. (gavin would argue with that logic but, well, ryan’s armed and he isn’t.)

it totally works. nobody can figure out why gavin always looks so stiff while he’s driving, though. keeps his hands at ten and two come hell or high water. ryan is quietly smug.

Protected | R.M.

Summary: Reggie Mantle grew up protecting what he loved.


I miss you.

You received the text on the first day of school, the instant your baby pink ballet flats maneuvered within the halls of Riverdale High, which were marginally filled with mayhem from everyone’s first day jitters.

Well, not everyone. You, despite your extra pretty face, extra shiny curls, and extra preppy outfit, wore a heavy façade that drooped lower than the Maybelline Fit Me-concealed eye-bags that were situated below your unexplained, cheery eyes that tried to greet everyone with much positivity as possible. As everyone knew your perfect reputation, the happy-go-lucky cheerleader that everyone admired and loved since the day you entered high school. It was never tarnished, so you refused to let a silly break-up move it at all.

You took out your phone and shakily gazed down at the message. It was sent in clear, with no emoji’s or silly grammatical errors. Your nervous fingers moved for you, but your brain was being silly that day and it had no planned response for the text message.

A wave of students accidentally crossed and one of them partially collided against your hardly five feet tall physique, which was a thankful jolt that rattled you off from replying to the text message. You squeezed the iPhone tightly, bearing no mind of the glittery fake diamonds from the phone case bearing harsh indentions against your palm.

The moment you were able to fix your locker and lock it behind you, you immediately set off to find a seat in the gym—hoping that an early departure from the first day madness would create a false sense of comfort from your inevitable fate, which was meeting your ex-boyfriend again subsequently after a summer of trying to forget all about him.


Everyone had always said that you were perfect for Reginald Mantle.

You were a girl blessed with your father’s dominant sloped nose and your mother’s graceful and tiny, ballerina body. Being the only child meant being under the revolving gaze of your mother and father’s watchful eyes twenty-four/seven, and you grew up to be accordingly limpid; yet, at the same time pretentious for you were the heir of one of the wealthiest families in Riverdale.

Reggie was a boy meant for you even before you knew what he was supposed to be. He was a constant person in your life, a fixture caused by your parents and his parents’ meddling. Though, despite your unending play times together and a hired tutor that taught you and him up until you were in middle school, Reggie and you grew up in different paths, in different aspects.

You and Reggie were in the opposite sides of the spectrum. Nevertheless, you were inexplicably drawn to him. He was exactly the same as you, but as the same time, so, so different.

He was difficult to figure out. He had pushed children off swing sets and had hogged all the toy cars to himself as he disliked sharing. You hated the smirk on his face when he teased his inferiors, and still you loved him when he kissed you goodnight. He’d hold you in the softest way possible, muscled arms entrapped around you with touch as light as a feather, and similarly he’d used the same arms dangerously with heated intent at someone else.

You never got why people often told you that he was perfect for you. He was, in your point of view, a mixture of positives and negatives. He was your opposite.

The thing about opposites was that when a unity occurred, it would be a co-existent dependency that held itself with tension.

You loved him more than he loved himself. That was probably the reason why the balance wasn’t right and he pushed himself off, leaving you in the dust.


“Are you alright?” Surprisingly, Cheryl Blossom would be the first person to question you that today. The said Blossom stood above you, her red curls down the right side of her chest, a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow. You tried to hide the flinch that came with Cheryl’s edged tone, but she assumingly noticed it since she took it herself to sit next to you on that noisy lunch table.

“Talk to me,” she demanded. “I don’t want anyone on my squad to be sadder than my supposed star quality. You cannot rain on my parade on this week’s performance.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered as you picked on your salad.

“[y/n], a stupid boy doesn’t have the right to state your mood status.” She hissed. “There are 7 billion people in the world. God knows how much boys will there be after your life post-Reggie Man—“

“Damn, Cheryl,” You stood up. “I said I’m fine!”

Your words were a little too loud, and laced with anger. The whole open-lawn cafeteria went into a full pregnant pause from your little burst and your eyes betrayed you as it went to a familiar face that you couldn’t just let go off. His smirking, never ceasing, hardly-caring face wavered slightly as he looked your way, as everyone had. He looked down once before pushing his left foot off benched on the seat and faced in the opposite direction, going back into a conversation with Chuck Clayton.

You couldn’t care less what that meant and you sped off from your table, grabbing your cellphone with you. Opening the text message up on your interface, your quivering fingers typed out a reply before hitting send.


“I thought you said I couldn’t see you again,” the tall and handsome boy chuckled as he sat coolly on the stools that they had in Pop’s. His tousled, brown waves would shine into a blondish side under the neon lights of Pop’s infamous signs, and his pretty blue eyes would turn your messy head into a complete haze of white noise. “I missed you,” Jackson voiced out, echoing what he had recently texted you that morning.

It was seven in the evening, and mostly everyone had this night tacked to watch the last screening due for the closing Midnight Drive-In. You had thought to go but you knew that it would simply be another place that would haunt you again with memories that happened in the arms of a familiar stranger.

“I couldn’t resist,” you whispered zealously, biting your lip, then striding towards him until both of your faces had no space with each other. He kissed back passionately, and you followed along in accord, ignoring the way your heart bleated in a monotonous fashion, like it was a routine you followed every morning. Fingers tracing down his rugged, jean jacket, you stopped as it went to a tracing on his arm. A tattoo of a dangerous serpent.

“Watch it,” he pushed himself off you and went to slip down his sleeves. “Any good ‘ole folk wouldn’t wanna see that snake on a young thing’s skin.”

“A young thing, huh?” You titled your head, letting him caress your cheek. It made you feel like being touched by an intruder. You held your tongue from stating that out loud. “I heard that your buddies are over at the drive-in tonight.”

“—yeah,” the handsome, rugged boy agreed, holding your hand like a whisper. “But you’re much better than any movie, let’s agree. Pretty and innocent [y/n][y/l/n].”

“If my father saw you with me,” you told him with a trace of a smile hinting on your lips while leading the boy down to a booth. “He would freak,” you ended with a pendulous but crude smirk, as the feeling of going behind your parents’ back often created a brilliant feeling of teenage rebellion.

However, the light that would go unperturbed that night beneath the luminescence of you with the boy from the Serpents would go back unlit as a sudden burst of unexpected customers walked in the empty Pop’s.

It was a famous group of blue and yellow hues, the king, the boy in between the boisterous and rowdy laughs, and you couldn’t help but shake as his eyes immediately turned toward the serpent and your contumacious self.

“[y/n]?” Reggie Mantle took it upon himself to breeze through the rows of booths with a face of disbelief, his voice rising. And as you expected, anger rising as his comical face slowly slipped to stone cold when his eyes landed on the lingering fingers of the serpent teenager on your arm. “Who the hell is he?”  

“Fuck off, Reggie,” you glared, bringing yourself to whisper to your current partner beside you, “Ignore him.” You tried your best to act a casual as possible, though the sudden racing of your heart that went with the way your ex-boyfriend stared at you in a mix of hardening confusion and indignation.

The other football players were left in a fit of widening eyes as Reggie, in impulsion, went and grabbed your arm in fury, “I’m taking you home.”

And it was a laughable scene, provided that you have been in witness in a circumstance like this before; on the contrary, you were always behind him before, supporting him like a good girlfriend. Until now.

Reggie showed the chaos within him through the bones between his knuckles—several scars made proof of that. Now, you were his enemy, the one that caused the fire beneath his eyes. The booths made a guarded ring.

“What the hell, man—“ The serpent boy scoffed before Reggie snapped and gripped and landed a good punch with no regret on the other boy’s face. That started a full-blown fight, which lead pandemonium where Moose, Chuck, and several others hurriedly tried to pull the Asian off the other boy. Reggie’s blows were pernicious, and over the yells of the football team trying to stop the fight, the only thing you could do was watch everything in horror.


“—fighting on public property, what on earth caused you to do that?!” And Mrs. Mantle let out a startled shriek and tried to shield her son as Mr. Mantle gave a tumultuous slap on Reggie’s already bruising face. You gripped your jacket, feeling the cotton and thinking of it as abrasive as hooves, guilt going off you in waves as the only thing you could do was watch the aftermath unfold in the Mantle estate, where you had been protectively ushered off to with your parents and Sheriff Keller due to Pop’s emergency dial.

“This is getting out of hand,” Reggie’s father continued, a harsher than stern look on his purple face. Yanking back his hand, his gaze shot to you, which you couldn’t bear to hold longer than a second. “This boy has been nothing but trouble this year—I swear, this was the last straw, Reginald. I need to ship him to board—“

“It was my fault,” you found your voice, hurried and not gentle at all—willing to cross out the guilt killing your tightening chest. Your parents’ tension-heavy faces whipped their heads to you, their protected daughter that could hardly do no wrong in this world. “I came there with Jackson—“

“No, I fought him, she had nothing to do with th—“ Reggie hastily claimed, harsh and scarily void of emotion. He was seemingly too callous from responding to his father—and you had realized that this could have been happening more so than none and that this boy could have grown up this way, and while your heart was pouring from hearing him protect you, you knew that it was your call to turn things around.

“No,” you squeaked, hearing yourself panic. “I guess I was being rebellious, I met up with Jackson, and – and- “ You eyed your father. “He was with me and Reggie saw me and Jackson did something and he got provoked,” you finished, lying. You looked at Reggie, and he gazed at you, turmoil and hurt swirling in his eyes.

That led to a tension-filled silence. You closed your eyes, and could hear the sounds of Reggie’s father’s footsteps going off to a direction. Somewhere that’s not here, of course.


“Sorry, that shouldn’t have happened,” he would tell you days later, smirk latched to his lips like a boy to a candy bar. He’d say it would no feeling, no emotion, as if he wasn’t someone that was in what happened and he was merely a person who’d heard of what happened.

The memory of his father slapping him because of you would haunt you forever, and your eyes would wander to his cheek not due to any romantic purpose, but the ache of wondering how much it hurt to protect you, a person he shouldn’t even be caring for anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you ignored his first statement, and spat out what you needed to say. The hallways were empty. “I was being petty. I wanted to—“ The words were dignified to be stated out in the open. “I wanted to forget about you.”

His silence mocked you. The 6’3 handsome and usually word-y jock—the boy you really, just really, really loved, gazed at you as if your turbulence, though with a slip of concern on his façade. You continued, lips burning with words you only imagined you would say in a dream, “You hurt me, Reggie. I hated you for making me spend a summer without you. So, yeah. I did something. I slept with that douchebag, that serpent, just to forget about you. So, fuck you.”

The response was instant. An utter storm shadowed over his face. “Fuck me? Fuck me? Are you fucking kidding me?” His fingers wrapped tightly around his coifed hair, eyes blazing with chasms of void and anger. “The only thing I ever did was goddamn protect you! If you hadn’t been so stupid, you wouldn’t be in this mess. I shouldn’t have protected you from the start if it was going to lead this way.”

“Protected me from the start?” You questioned, beckoned with hatred.

“Yes! I’ve always been protecting you. I love you, [y/n]. So much. The reason I ended things is because you were going to end up broadcasted on this shitty book and—“ Reggie sighed and you looked at him confusingly. He stepped forward, “Look, last year I was in hell. My dad caught me doing some stupid shit and he was going to blame it on you. I needed to protect you, it was instinct. I had to break up with you because I couldn’t bear the guilt that—“

This time, it was your turn to slap him. Reggie snapped his head back at you, shocked.

“You stupid jerk,” your body shook from relief and at the same time, numbness. “You couldn’t have at least told me about that? I literally cried for a week because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, the great Reggie freaking Mantle.”

Reggie stared at what only could have been eons, before shaking his head and returning a soft gaze that was only for you. “I’m sorry.”

You could shake your head as he placed out his warm hand next to yours, swirling and wrapping it around yours in the gentlest way possible.


It was an epiphany, when you looked at him and you had finally seen a glimpse of an extent that he would do for you. The balance was off and you had thought of it in the wrong way.

He loved you more than he loved himself.


omg i’m so sorry. whenever i write i’d always get so carried away with excessive details and annoying character musings!!! please tell me what you think! feel free to reblog or like or message me! always open to hear what you guys think huehue. :)