#Bleacher Report Kicks

[venuscrashed]

Can you do Spiderman Miles Morales x Femboy reader?

More casual then actually focusing on the femboy part but oh well

Warnings: implied homophobia, ooc, kinda mean reader

word count: 1k

Miles and (Y/n): the duo that everyone knew about. Friends since the beginning of highschool. Everyone knew that there was something more between them, yet every time it was mentioned it was shut down by one of the two. Whether it was playful teasing or mentions of past flirting, neither boys would ever admit to it. 

Yet everyone knew not to mess with either of them, especially in front of the other. It was simply known as their high school's curse. Where if one person flirted with one of the two boys, bad luck will follow them for the rest of the school year. Despite the obviousness of it being forced, no one can prove that it was the duo doing it.

It all started with a simple bet. Two basketball players betting on who can pull more dudes. The easiest target? The femboy, of course. Each player would flirt with him endlessly. Something as simple as holding his bag to cornering him at his locker. It was all going well until it happened in front of Miles.

It was an honest mistake, really, you were walking out of your classroom when one of the players came up to you. You were on your way to your locker where you would meet Miles and then hangout after school, like you two always did. Except this time, you were intersected.

The player stood in front of you with a cheeky smile. He looked down at you, “Can I hold your bag?” Before you could answer he had already grabbed it, walking in the direction of your destination. How did he know where you were going? You have no idea.

You quickly followed him, falling behind by a step or two. “Um-Thanks. That was really thoughtful of you.”

He smiled and laughed. Looking back at his friend who was staring in anger as he walked by. “It’s no big deal!” You two have already made it to your locker. You opened it and he put your bag inside of it. “It’s what any gentleman would do.”

You gave a polite smile, which quickly faded after he got slammed into the lockers next to you. The whole hallway went silent and you stared in horror. There stood Miles above the player, looking down at him with pure disdain. 

“Well he already has a gentleman to do that for him,” Miles spat. Kicking the player out of the way before he could run. “So you and your buddy can quit the act.”

The player scurried to his feet, looking between the both of you before running away. The hallway was filled with whispers and murmur before turning back to normal. 

Miles leaned against the lockers while he watched you put on some lip gloss. His eyes lingering on your lips that turned into a smile. He watched as you looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” you hummed. Giggling as you grabbed your stuff and pulled his hand. “Just relishing in the fact you're jealous. That's all.”

Miles scoffed, looking down at your guys hands before looking back up. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what am I doing?” You stared at him, a certain gleam in your eye. He was about to respond before you took off down the street. “Wait! There's a cat cafe!”

Everyday after that something bad would happen to the players. Either they would trip or mess up in a game, and some students would report seeing Miles nearby but there wasn’t any correlation…

That was the beginning, just a simple joke. It wasn’t until it was your turn did it become the curse.

You were sitting on the bleachers inside the school gym. Watching as Miles and his friend played basketball at lunch. At the same time, you were chewing gum and fixing your makeup. 

Two girls were sitting a couple rows below you. Giggling and whispering as they watched the game. It wouldn’t have mattered if it wasn’t for one of them mentioning Miles. At that, you slammed down your compact mirror which drew the attention of those two girls.

They looked up at you with a puzzled look. You just give them a smile. Once they turned around you rolled your eyes and popped your gum as loud as you could. One of the girls finally got mad and stood up. She turned around and looked you up and down.

Raising an eyebrow she asked, “What is your problem?”

“Nothing” you sang. 

“Listen. We all know you and Miles are close and all but he wouldn’t go out with a skirt wearing freak like you.” She yelled, gaining the attention of all the students around you three. Her friend whispered to her to stop it.

With a quick glance up and down her outfit, you bursted out laughing. Making the girl even more angry and the students around you confused. You fakes whipped a tear away from your eye before leaning down. “Listen. I’m not the skirt wearing freak around here when you’re here. If I wanted your opinion then I would have asked for it. You could ask him out all you want, it won’t happen though.”

Mouth wide open she looked back at him. She finally had enough when she saw the smile on his face. She grabbed her stuff and dragged her friend out of there. Groaning about your attitude or something. 

The game quickly continued but Miles didn’t care. He made his way up towards you and sat next to you. He grabbed your gatorade and took a drink of it. “That was hot,” he said in between sips. 

You raised your eyebrow at this. “Really? That was actually really mean of me…”

“Maybe,” he looked at you. “But it's still really hot. Although, don’t suggest asking me out to other people, prettyboy.”

You both laugh at these memories from time to time. Watching how all four of them still struggle everyday. Gaining more bad luck then if they were to walk under a ladder. Truly, making it the school’s curse. 

[azzibuckets]

For the Love of the Game [Pazzi | Part 5/10]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: paige and azzi get the cameras rolling

a/n: i’ve gotten so many requests for this part so i hope it lives up to y’all’s expectations 😶😶 it’s more of a filler chapter but the next one is going to be so unhinged i can’t wait

word count: 1.6k

masterlist w/ all parts

“Paige, if you’re gonna sit and watch, come sit and watch on the bench!” Geno yelled out, threatening to pull Paige from the scrimmage.

The blonde set her jaw, putting her head down as she sprinted to get back on defense. Today was not her day. She could feel Azzi’s eyes on her as she moved around the court. They’d hadn’t gotten the chance to talk since their kiss yesterday, and Paige wasn’t sure if she even wanted to.

Finally, Geno clapped his hands and called for a water break. Paige walked slowly to the bleachers, gasping for air. Rummaging through her backpack, she searched for her water bottle. Realizing she’d left it at home, she cursed, kicking the ground.

“Here.” Azzi materialized from behind her, her blue Hydroflask in her outstretched hand.

Paige looked at her cautiously.

“I didn’t poison it,” Azzi muttered under her breath. “Drink it, babe.”

Paige gratefully accepted the water bottle, taking a long swig before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“What’s up with you?” Azzi studied her face. “You’re playing like shit.”

“I’m distracted.”

Azzi wrinkled her nose. “By what?”

Wordlessly, the blonde let her gaze fall to Azzi’s lips, immediately causing her to blush. Paige handed back the water bottle, biting back a smile at how easily ruffled Azzi was.

“Girls! No time for chit chat. Huddle up,” Geno called.

The girls joined the rest of the team as Geno went over what they needed to work on. After they broke, he asked Paige and Azzi to stay.

“My daughter came for practice today,” Geno informed them, nodding to a short, brunette girl who was talking to Nika with a notepad and pen in her hand. “Can you guys get started on her project?”

The girls agreed, and Geno sent them off.

——————

“I was thinking we could start with some candid shots. We can move onto the actual interviews later once we set the atmosphere of the film,” Leo, Geno’s daughter, explained.

Once Paige and Azzi nodded in assent, she smiled gratefully and turned around to start setting up her cameras.

“So, Azzi, I heard you’re a monster at the 3 point line,” Leo called from over her shoulder.

Azzi shrugged. “You could say that,” she responded nonchantly, earning a roll of the eyes from Paige.

“Geno said your shooting mechanics are almost textbook.” Leo grabbed a ball from the floor and tossed it to her. “So let’s get a shot of you helping Paige with her form.”

Paige’s mouth dropped open and her eyebrows shot up. She stuttered for a few seconds before she managed to find her words. “Are you serious? I was the national player of the year last season. I don’t need no lesson on shooting,” she protested vehemently.

“I don’t know, your wrist snap has been looking a little weak recently,” Azzi teased, clearly pleased at her newfound duty of coaching the blonde.

Leo laughed, amused. “Listen, I’m not saying anything about your skill. It’s just some fluff for the film. You know, you two being cute.” She put the strap of the camera around her neck and waved her camera. “Let’s roll.”

Leo positioned Paige at the 3 point line, then motioned for Azzi to come join them. “Just be as normal as possible,” the brunette instructed. “Pretend the camera isn’t there. Flirt, talk, touch however you guys normally would. Let’s give the audience something to see, alright?”

Azzi bit her lip. Her heart was beating in her ears, but she forced herself to stay calm. She couldn’t have Leo reporting back to Geno that the two girls who were supposedly dating refused to even touch each other. So she slid her arm around Paige’s shoulder to rest a hand on her elbow.

“Lights, camera, action!” Leo yelled, motioning for them to begin.

“Alright, P, you’re gonna be learning from the best. You ready?” Azzi joked. Thankfully her voice came out lighthearted and relaxed, the opposite of the internal tension she was feeling.

“Show me how it’s done, coach.” Like always, the blonde was all smooth and easy-going.

Azzi dropped a hand to Paige’s waist, gently adjusting her hip positioning. To be fair, Paige already had almost perfect form, but she had to do something for the cameras. With her other hand, she guided Paige’s wrist. The blonde’s back was pressed up entirely against her front, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. It’s because Paige is basically compressing my damn lungs, she thought. Not because every point of contact between our bodies feels electric.

“Just…like…that,” Azzi breathed, and when Paige released the ball, it fell with a perfect swish through the net.

Azzi wrapped her arms around Paige’s waist, pulling her closer in. “Good job, baby,” she murmured into Paige’s ear. She was surprised by how easy the words came out, and she thanked God for her newly acquired acting skills.

Paige seemed surprise at her confidence too, and she stilled for a second before remembering their roles. She turned around and hung her arms around Azzi’s neck, putting their foreheads together. “It’s easy when I’m learning from the best.”

This time Azzi didn’t have to pretend to smirk. She was never going to let Paige live that down.

“Alright, cut!” Leo yelled. She didn’t even look up, reviewing the footage on her camera with a pleased smile on her face. “That was awesome! You both have such natural chemistry.”

Realizing they were still pressed up against each other, the two stepped back, looking at anywhere but each other.

As Leo set up the shot for the next scene, the dark haired girl poked a finger in Paige’s ribs. “The best, huh?” she snickered.

Paige grabbed her finger and squeezed it aggressively, causing her to yelp. “Shut up right now, Fudd.” She released her finger, and Azzi rubbed it with a frown, glaring at a now amused Paige.

—————

Day one of the shoot for Leo’s film was over, and Azzi slumped her shoulders in relief. It hadn’t been half bad, but she was tired after the long practice and just wanted to go home.

“Azzi Fudd! Where do you think you’re going?”

Azzi halted on her way out of the gym. Turning on her heel, she gave Geno a meek smile. “Home?”

“Your hair’s dry.”

Azzi looked at him with confusion. Geno crossed his arms. “Were you tuning me out during our talk today? Ice baths after practice every other day from now on.”

“Oh,” Azzi started speed walking back towards the recovery room. “I was listening, coach. I just forgot.”

“Uh huh.” Geno grunted, shaking his head as he watched Azzi hurry back.

As soon as she reached the recovery room, she saw Paige smirking at her, already in the ice bath. “You fucker,” Azzi growled, stripping off her clothes. She wanted to get over with the ice bath as soon as possible and go home. “You let me leave with Geno there.”

Paige shrugged. “I can’t save you from Geno every time, Fudd.”

Azzi exhaled sharply as her skin met the freezing water. She closed her eyes as she slowly submerged herself, trying to take deep breaths to prevent herself from hyperventilating. “I hate ice baths,” she said shakily.

“Really? I love them. I had the best bonding moments with my high school team during our ice bath sessions,” Paige recalled fondly, not seeming to be fazed at all from the frigid temperatures.

“What school did you go to?” Azzi asked, deciding now might as well be a time to get to know Paige better. Anything to strengthen their facades.

“Hopkins. I’m from Minnesota.”

Azzi nodded silently, not knowing how to respond.

“What ‘bout you?”

“St John’s. I’m from the DMV.”

Paige raised her eyebrows. “A private school?”

“Yep. Had it all laid out for me. Didn’t even have to try,” the younger girl intoned sarcastically, swishing her hand through the water.

Paige scrunched her nose. “Why do you do that?”

Azzi’s eyes snapped up. “What do you mean?”

Paige absent-mindedly rubbed an ice cube through her palms. “Put yourself down like that.”

The younger girl wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to preserve her body heat. “I don’t know. You went to public school. I was assuming you’d say something about how going to private school set me up for success or something.”

“No.” Paige’s response was abrupt. “I wouldn’t say that. I know how hard you’ve worked. It wouldn’t be fair for me to attribute it to going to some dumb private school.”

A smile crept onto Azzi’s face. Her instinct was to start teasing Paige about how nice she was being, but she stopped herself, deciding that she didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Thanks, Bueckers.”

Paige nodded, still focused on the piece of ice that was now slowly melting. “You liking UConn so far?”

This was probably the longest time they’d ever had a normal conversation, Azzi thought to herself. And for some weird reason, she didn’t mind. “Yeah. The system here is great. Geno knows his shit.”

“Yeah.” Paige closed her eyes, tipping her head against the side of the tub. “He’s tough, but he’s amazing. You’re gonna learn a lot from him.”

Azzi nibbled her bottom lip. “Are we gonna talk about the kiss?” she suddenly blurted out, not being able to ignore the elephant in the room anymore.

Paige didn’t even move, continuing to breathe evenly though her nose. “No.”

Azzi tipped her head against the tub too, shutting her eyes. “Alright.”

[jkriordanverse]

⋆｡The Crows Highschool! AU:°✩

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Note: I had to divide it into 3 parts because it was too long lmao so this one's for Kanej. These are mainly highschool AUs. I'm also sorry for the spacing bc otherwise i can't see what i'm writing PS: English is not my first language so please don't get mad or annoyed if I wrote anything wrong (EG: incorrect grammar/spelling). Anyways hope you enjoy it :D

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Kaz:

Kaz would have a prosthetic leg but he insists on taking a cane because oml this guy will be the drama queen.

I mean like every rumor started with this guy one way or another

He'd have beef with this one guidance councillor with a weird name called Pekking Rolling? Wait no Pekka Rollins.

Solely bc Pekka filed a report that kicked Jordie out of school and is that one teacher/guidance councillor that's super biased and tells kids they should give up on their dreams

Watches Dance moms, also a huge history nerd and lovesssssssssssss murder podcast.

I think he's not very close to his family as a child so he's a bit touch starved but also touch adversed at the same time

Especially after Jordie got kicked out

He'd love to open up to Inej but doesn't know how to

Is secretly a science and history nerd and when Inej found out she gifted him a stamp and Hamilton tickets that they went to watch together

He's super into photography and loves taking polaroids w Inej and his friends when they're out together

secretly an excellent singer and loves singing in the car with Inej

Inej:

that one kid who doesn't talk much but has dirt on everyone

Like she hears everything. and I mean EVERYTHING

that one kid to randomly dissapear and you're like where'd she go? how'd you move so fast?

Loves sparkly glitter pens as a kid and still secretly loves them (she also has markers that smell like yogurt)

sings her heart out in the car and lovesss road tripsssss (I think she'd be Mirren in we were liars tbh)

She is sugar, curiosity and rain (if yk yk)

Inej i think either does ice skating/ gymnastics / or aerial silk dancer and she's really good like she's won competitions.

collects pens.

Loves the radio, taylor swift and phoebe bridgers. You can't change my mind that Inej loves acoustics

Her favourite color is purple and she's lovely, like the cinnamon roll of the whole grade

like you cannot find a single student who hates her

was in a situation where she was s/a'ed as a kid and still flinches from touch sometimes

Overall she's healed most of it and she's still slowly healing as she helps Kaz heal too (omg *sobs*)

Loves Sweet Tooth (like the show)

I feel like in school she'd be the runner and Kaz would be on the bleachers cheering her on (or her timer guy)

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[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

tta aftermath 1

A flashy intro sequence reading “TTA Aftermath” flashes across the screen as a merry tune plays.

The screen glitches, and the camera pans out and down to a swanky studio. Former contestant Patrick is sitting on a suede couch in front of a clearly cardboard back wall. In the bleachers off to the side are every camper who hasn’t made it back- Courtney, Ass, Max, Julia, Staci, and Mal. 

Patrick clears his throat and pulls out a set of cue cards that just say “die” and “kill” in red sharpie. He sighs. “Kitty. Where’s Kitty?”

Kitty drops from the ceiling onto the couch next to him. 

“I asked you to write intelligibly,”

They peer over his shoulder and grin. “Those are words, aren’t they?”

The audience laughs. Staci in the bleachers claps her hands. Patrick sighs. “Whatever. I wasn’t planning on following a script anyway. Welcome, audience, to Total Takes Action: Aftermath. I’m your host, Patrick,”

“And I’m Kitty!”

He shoves them out of frame. “And that is my assistant, Kitty. We’re coming to you live to report on everything related to Total Takes Action!”

The audience cheers. 

“On today’s episode, we have Frollo, McLovin, Kelly, Austin, and Bonnie- we'll be answering some questions, and later, our peanut gallery will be giving their opinions on who should win,”

The audience cheers again. 

“Bring out the crazy one!” Patrick commands. The crowd goes wild as Frollo steps onto the stage, clutching his Bible. He takes a seat in the cushy chair next to the main couch and coughs a little. 

Patrick winces. “You’re not still infected, right? I have a very delicate physique,”

“Please be infected!” Kitty squeals. 

Frollo sighs. “Despite my protests, I was treated at… at a…” he shivers. “A hospital.”

“Oh, brother!” Max yells from the peanut gallery. He’s ignored. 

“Good,” Patrick swipes a bit of dust off his pants leg. "As I don't care enough to come up with any childish segments for this show, I'll start by reading some submissions sent by the fans at home."

He clears his throat. "Alexis S. asks "Frollo, I think Mal likes you. You should make her your good Christian wife,""

Mal glares and crosses her arms in the bleacher as the audience Oohs. Frollo ignores the question entirely.

"Fine. River asks: "Can you convert me?""

He nods.

"Okay, fine. We have a video for you on the webcam," Patrick pulls out a remote and a large monitor descends from the ceiling. It flashes static for a few moments, and then settles on the image of a teen in their bedroom.

"This is frollosbibble on tiktok," Kitty reads the handle at the bottom of the screen. "You're live, frollosbibble!"

The teen smiles and pulls up what looks like a scarecrow, then turns it around to reveal a ragdoll version of Frollo. The peanut gallery winces. "HIIII TT Cast!!" they shout into their mic. The feedback makes everyone grimace. "I just wanted to say to Frollo that I converted to Catholocism for him!! I used to be Protestant but TTI showed me the error of my waysss."

Patrick rolls his eyes and leans over to Kitty, muttering something indistinct. They giggle. He sighs. "Okay. Anything to say to that?"

Frollo rolls his eyes and Patrick turns off the monitor. The peanut gallery looks sick.

“Now, the hosts were supposed to have questions for you, but someone messed up the cue cards.” he turns to glare at Kitty, who smiles. “So I’ll just make them up. Here’s my first one: what’s wrong with you?”

Frollo blinks. “Original sin,”

“THIS GUY STINKS!” Max yells again. 

Patrick sighs. “Can someone please do something about the backseat driver?”

Julia smiles and whacks Max upside the head. 

“Thank you. Anyway, back to-” he turns back to the chair and sees Frollo gone. “Fine. McMuffin, get out here!”

McLovin walks on stage with swagger, waving and smiling. Courtney and Ass roll their eyes in unison from the crowd as he takes a seat in the cushy chair. “What’s up Patrick, my man?” he kicks back. 

“The sandbags that I could have Kitty release on your head whenever I feel like it,”

McLovin swallows nervously and sits up straight. 

“Ooh, I have a question!” Kitty yells, waving their hand around. “What’s it like being a brain eating amoeba?”

“I um… I don’t think I’m qualified to answer that,” McLovin says. Patrick sighs and massages his temples. 

“Do we have a commercial to cut to?” 

A nearby intern shakes his head. Patrick mutters angrily to himself. “Fine. Strap him to the bomb,"

McLovin’s eyes widen. “The-”

“We have quite a few questions about yourself and those two... things," Patrick waves in Courtney and Asses directions. "So we came up with a fun challenge."

Kitty pulls a stick of dynamite with an abnormally long fuse out from their apron and ties it around McLovin's neck. "The rules are simple!" They say merrily. "If Courtney and Ass can answer a whole round of questions without fighting, we'll put out the fuse!"

"This cannot be legal!" Courtney shouts.

Ass snickers. "Typical,"

“Alright, first up,” he says casually. “Mary M asks: "Natalie, why did you call yourself Ass on the show? I understand wanting to protect your identity but what possessed you to call yourself ASS?"

Ass scoffs and rolls their eyes. "It's ironic, geniuses. You wouldn't get it,"

"God help me," Patrick mutters. "This one was sent without a name, but I decided to keep it anyway: "Courtney, what are your opinions on Ass?""

"Did you put that in there?" Courtney glares. "I'm not answering that!"

Patrick shushes them and Kitty lights the fuse from the other side of the stage. Courtney and Ass grimace.

"Okay, fine. Ass is... a perfectly fine competitor who I happened to have a few disagreements with. Calm enough for you?"

Patrick shrugs. "Another one from River: "How does it feel knowing that the guy you fought over has a boyfriend?""

They look at each other and grumble.

"Fine,"

"Why should I care?"

Courtney shakes with anger, then takes a deep breath and exhales. They rub their temples and mutter to themselves. Patrick and Kitty smile with delight.

"Okay, final one. This is for Natalie from Pants: Do you think you were robbed?"

Ass scoffs and stands. "Do I think I was robbed? I KNOW I was robbed! My elimination was a fallacy, a fluke! It never should've happened! That should've been me winning! Not them!"

"You never even deserved the win!" Courtney stands, throwing their hands in the air. "You're nothing but a self-centered, two-timing, wannabe scammer with their head up their-"

The sound of the stick of dynamite exploding pulls Courtney and Ass away from the argument and they both wince as they turn back to the stage. Patrick and Kitty laugh hysterically.

McLovin coughs up a ball of soot and falls backwards.

"Oh, that is priceless," Patrick wipes a tear away. "One more question, okay? This one's just for you, McMuffin, from River: how did you make it so far in the first season?""

He coughs again, holds up a finger, and then passes out.

“We’ll be right back,”

---

“Welcome back to Total Takes Aftermath!” Kitty grins, tearing the cover off a pillow with their teeth. Stuffing flies everywhere. 

"McLovin has been taken to our special medicinal center. We had to add it for "legal reasons,"" Patrick air-quotes with his fingers.

"Good. I'd sue if I could," Max says from the peanut gallery. The other contestants nod in agreement.

"Oh, please. If I was in your position, I'd have sued for breach of contract weeks ago. You're just not that smart," Patrick shrugs. "Kitty, tea?"

Max thinks for a moment as Kitty runs over with a tea pot.

"Please tell me it's actual tea this time and not dirt,"

"It's organic!"

He narrows his eyes. "That's what you said last time,"

Kitty smiles and turns to the camera. "Next up, Kelly and Austin!"

“Kelly and Austin have been love birds since last season, but now they’re just friends,” Patrick reads off the cards he was given, completely monotone. “Who wrote these things? A third grader? Just bring them out!”

Kelly and Austin walk onto the stage, keeping a distance from each other. They smile awkwardly and wave. 

“Okay, first question: what’s it like being losers?” Patrick smiles. 

“Um…” Kelly thinks. “Not too bad.”

Austin shrugs. 

“Even though you morons lost out on a million bucks because you were too busy sucking face?”

“I admit, we got sidetracked- but I don’t regret missing out on the money, I regret missing out on the chance to find myself,” Kelly nods. Patrick rolls his eyes. 

Kitty smiles widely. “So, what’s it like just being friends?”

“Wow, an actual question. Those would’ve been nice ON THE CARDS!” Patrick yells. Kitty ignores him. 

“It’s fun! I’ve never felt so connected with myself,” Kelly nods. 

Austin agrees. “Right on. I’ve been having the time of my life being single again!”

“Okay, whatever,” Patrick sighs. “Can we get Bonnie out here? I’m in the mood to have an actual conversation with a normal person now.”

An intern walks onto stage and whispers something in Kitty’s ear. They nod and then turn to Patrick. “Bonnie is refusing to leave the bathroom,”

Patrick massages his temples again. “Can someone take care of that?" Courtney stands and runs to off stage. "Let’s read some more fan mail,”

Kitty smiles at the tablet on the table. "This one comes from Mary M: "Patrick, I hope you explode, how dare you eliminate Staci,"

"Oh, boo-hoo," Patrick rolls his eyes. "She doesn't even care. See!"

He points to the peanut gallery, where Staci is busy chewing gum and scrolling through their phone with their feet kicked up on the back of Courtney's seat. They look up at the camera on them and take off their earbuds. "What?"

"From Kiran T:" Patrick reads. "Kitty, does it feel uncomfortable to be shipped with your cohost?""

Kitty shrugs. "It's all water under the bridge. Like a real ship would sail on,"

"That analogy makes no sense in this context!" Max yells. Julia whacks him again.

"This one comes from six eyeballs,"

"What?" Patrick leans over Kitty's shoulder. "Those are emojis."

"Ooh, cute! Well, the eyes ask: "Patrick, what are your thoughts on fren?" And then there's a little text that says "Do you want to kiss him on the lips?""

Patrick blinks. "Which friend?"

"No, it's Fren," Kitty says.

"Who is that?"

The peanut gallery stares at him.

"Okay, this next one comes from River: Dear Patrick and Kitty, what ever happened to your radiation poisoning?""

"Three weeks clean!" Kitty announces, kicking their feet back and forth. "Maybe even two!"

Patrick sighs and the tablet screen turns off as Courtney and a very reluctant Bonnie walk out on stage holding hands. Courtney returns to the peanut gallery as Bonnie stands off to the side.

"Not going to take a seat?"

"I do not want to be here,"

"I don't blame you!" Max yells from the bleachers again. Bonnie grumbles.

"Okay, okay. Just one question," Patrick says. "Then someone here will take you to the mall to fill you up on Hot Topic or whatever."

"Spencer's, and I want a soft pretzel too,"

"Fine, whatever. This one comes from Your Biggest Fan: "We all know you're one with the unpopular opinions, so I have to ask. Do you agree with the statement that you were robbed last season?""

Bonnie thinks for a moment and then sighs. "Not really. The other players deserved the win more than I did. But getting voted off like that sucked," they turn to the peanut gallery and glare.

The other former campers, aside from Ass and Julia, avoid eye contact. Kelly waves a little. "Love your hair!"

Patrick rolls his eyes. “And that’s all for today, guys!” Kitty waves. “We’ll see you next time! And don’t forget to tune in to Total Takes Action!”

[redjaybathood]

First days of school came and went. Jason adjusted his hours at the diner, leaving himself only afternoon shifts and one full on weekend. The classes - well, some of them were easy, like History and English, some hellish, like Science or Econ (mostly due to their respective teachers), some awesome, like Math. He was with Lydia Martin, Jackson's girlfriend, in that one. They weren't particularly friendly, just nodding acquaintances. Jason wasn't sitting with them at lunch. It was just - that first day of school, he was still reeling from the party the night before. He wanted some quiet.

So he sat with an equally quiet guy, Boyd was the name he went by - and that's basically all he knew about him, because no parties were particularly into chatting.

He nodded at Jackson and Danny when he noticed them, same as with Scott and Stiles, or anyone else he met at the party. But that was, thankfully, it.

Between classes, he hang out at the bleachers, mostly. There were some kids who smoked there, but they left him alone and he did the same. He wasn't the only loner there, either. A curly-haired guy who was in Chem with him - Isaac - was napping in the sun there, like a cat. Somehow he was still pale as shit.

Jason had to wake him up one day - they had Chem next period, and the bell would be in a few minutes. But just as he put his hand on the shoulder, Isaac momentarily jumped up, wide-eyed. Almost fell off.

Jason backed away. It's not that he recognized something - there could be a lot of different explanations for such a reaction. Some people were more skittish than others. For some, yeah, it was a trauma response, but not necessarily domestic abuse.

"You okay, man?" he asked. "We're going to be late for the next class."

"Who are you?" Isaac asked.

"Greenberg, we have Harris's class together."

"Well, fuck off, Greenberg."

That was that. On the weekend, when Jackson and Danny were running with him (Jason did it every day, but not for physical training, but to calm down his mind), Jason tried to ask around Isaac's situation. It was honestly not his business, and Jason knew Isaac himself wouldn't be thrilled with it, but. You take a boy out of Gotham and all that.

"Lahey? Yeah, I know, we're neighbors," Jackson said. "You say he's sleeping on the bleachers? Figures. His dad is a big fucking asshole. He owns the graveyard, makes Isaac work for him."

"He was coaching the swimming team like six years ago," Danny added. "He was okay then."

"But then he drowned in a bottle, after half of his family died - first the wife, then Isaac's brother. So yeah, they kicked him out."

"Yeah?" Jason probed. "Is there anything else going on? Isaac looks kinda skittish."

Danny and Jackson exchanged a look.

"Isaac Lahey? He's one of the meanest SOBs at school. But yeah, I guess. My dad suspected that Lahey not only loved to drink, but also to slap his kid around. Reported it, even."

"And?"

"And nothing, Stilinsky's dad is as useless as the son."

And that was everything Jackson knew.

Jason, though, had the Sheriff's card, and had a notion to call him up for a reason, feel him out. It's just it didn't feel right to use Isaac for that reason. Jason knew firsthand how such cases can go south. Even if Lahey Senior was heavy handed and mean drunk. Even if he was brought up on charges and lost custody. It didn't necessarily mean a happy ending for Isaac.

So he tried to approach him first.

Isaac, for his turn, didn't eat lunch alone. He was sitting with a mousy kind of girl. Grey clothes, grey hair, no make up. He nodded at her when Isaac didn't respond to his greeting, introduced himself.

"Erica Reyes," she offered in return.

And then nothing else. Well, Jason could work with that. He really could. He started talking about himself moving here from the East Coast, how it took him awhile to get used to all the sun. Said he wanted to move to Los Angeles, after his parents died, because he had a friend there. But he couldn't afford it. So he chose Beacon Hills, found a job. Jackson's dad - you know Jackson, right - helped with getting out the foster system.

Erica looked like she didn't know why Jason was telling her his life story, but was too polite to stop it. Isaac, Jason noticed out of the corner of his eye, was still looking angry. But he didn't leave, so Jason counted it as a win.

"You know, most of the people who stay in shitty situations, they think they don't have options," Jason said. "I thought so for a long time, too. I had no relatives who could take me, or who I would trust to live with. And foster system - there are very different people there, who are in it for a lot of different reasons. I was scared. And I would understand if others were scared of it, too. But it's not the only option. I'm renting a loft on the Northern side of the town, by the way. The rent is pretty affordable, but I was thinking of finding a roommate, anyway. Do you know anyone who would be interested, Erica?"

Erica looked at him, then at Isaac. It wasn't a "You're in?" though, it was a "Can you believe this guy?" look.

"No," she said. "I will be sure to let you know."

Isaac said nothing at all.

Well, Jason knew his people skills were shit. Breaking heads were much easier than breaking convictions, for him. He wasn't like Dick.

So, he decided to do what he did best.

He did wait for the end of the week. Isaac started to go around when he saw him, much like he did with Stiles, Jason noticed. That didn't necessarily say anything about Isaac home situation, and could just as well be about Isaac finding volumous people who ranted in nonsequiter on random topics annoying.

Every night, Jason stacked out Lahey's house. He didn't hear screams or anything like that. He did follow Lahey father and son to the graveyard and back. Lahey was spending those nights in the office, and Isaac outside, digging graves with heavy machinery. No wonder he was always sleeping in school.

But, again, nothing criminal except for child labor.

And then, during the PE, Isaac's shirt riled up when he shot a ball in the basket. He had bruises on his hip. He tugged the shirt down and looked around. When he saw Jason looking, he scowled, then approached Coach Finstock. Jason didn't know what he has said to him, but Jason was running laps until the end of period.

On Sunday, when Jason had a day off at the diner, he broke into school. Checked Isaac's attendance records, grades all through elementary to high school. Medical records, what there was of them. His file from the guidance counselor office. It was all circumstamcial. Wouldn't be enough for the Sheriff to open the case. Might be why he didn't, when Whittermore first reported it. Jason found that he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt - that Isaac's father was a bad apple, that Sheriff wasn't corrupt, or indifferent. That he really didn't have anything to hold Lahey Sr. for.

Jason broke into their home while they both were at the graveyard. Saw Cadmen's room. Practically a shrine. Saw Isaac's. It was minimalist, if Jason felt charitable. He wasn't particularly, no. He noticed the lack of any pictures of the dead wife and mother. Checked her death certificate - natural causes, apparently. Checked the computers, the DVDs in Lahey Senior's room. Nothing suspicious.

Nothing out of place in the whole house, as though it wasn't really lived in. He checked everything on the first and second floor. The only place he didn't check was the basement and the garage. There was little time before the owners of the house were due to get back, so he needed to decide, quick, where to go. He opted for the basement - breaking into a garage would be easier, he could do it later.

Turned out, he didn't really need to do it later. The basement held the prize - the evidence - that Jason was looking so hard for. But... He really wished he was wrong instead. That Gotham twisted him to see darkness everywhere, made him paranoid. Would that be fucked up? Sure. It would be much better than Isaac being locked in a freezer for god knows how long, though. Long enough that the nail marks changed their placement - long enough that Isaac grew up.

Yeah, he was calling the Sheriff, and if he lets Jason down? Jason would be paying Lahey household another visit, this time when the host was home.

***

Sheriff agreed to come by the diner. Joked about Jason not updating the blog for too long, Stiles cooking blanched broccoli again.

"I don't know what you mean," Jason said. "Blanched broccoli are delicious. But yeah, I was busy with something else. That's actually why I called you about."

They were sitting in one of the boots. Jason took his break early, now that there wasn't a lot of guests. He was drumming his fingers on the coffee cup that was on the table before him, waited until Sheriff drank from his own. Avoided looking at him.

"Everything alright, son? Someone giving you trouble?"

"No," Jason said, finally catching Stilinski's gaze.

He figured he pretended to be nervous enough, it got across. Now he needed to see Sheriff's reaction.

"Jackson Whittermore said, his dad already approached you about it in the past. It's about Isaac," he added. "I think he's in trouble at home."

Sheriff sighed and nodded, closing his eyes minutely.

"Whittermore called in a noise complaint. Privately shared his concerns. We checked the house, didn't find anything. Isaac refused to testify against his father. There was no bruises on him. So..."

"No evidence, no crime, huh? Well, Isaac has bruises now. And did you check all of the house? Did you check the basement?"

"What's in the basement?" Sheriff frowned.

"You will see."

"It doesn't work like that," Sheriff grimaced. "I can't just search his house without an order, and your testimony won't be enough, I'm afraid."

"You can, if you're called in again - for a burglary, perhaps."

Jason saw that the Sheriff got it immediately.

"Now, son, don't do anything rash - something like that gets on your permanent record, then even if you aren't tried as an adult..."

"Tried? They would need to catch me first."

"Me, it's me who would need to catch you."

"You won't, don't worry." Jason got up. "Anyway, I don't know what you're talking about. I was just talking hypothetically. I'm gonna be partying with Jackson and Danny on Friday. Half the school would be there, I'm told, except for Isaac, because Isaac never goes to parties. Or anywhere, really, except to graveyard. At night. Because that's apparently how his dad saves money on hiring adults. Just be sure to work on Friday, okay? There might be underage drinking, or something."

Sheriff didn't try to talk him out anymore. Anyway, that wasn't the test. Even arresting Lahey Senior wasn't the test. Jason practically gift-wrapped him for the Sheriff.

The test was, what the Sheriff would do with this later, with the information Jason allowed him to glimpse about himself.

***

The op went without a hitch. Jason showed up at Jackson's house, made a show of drinking cola out of the solo cup, talked to Danny for five minutes before taking a bathroom break. He got out of the window on the second floor, crossed to the Lahey's house. Broke from the back, making sure not to make noise but to set up the silent alarm.

When the cop car appeared on the street, he sneaked back through the same window. The party, when he went downstairs, was in disarray. People thought the cops were after them, maybe, because they ran away, leaving only Jackson, Danny and Lydia to quickly hiding any trace of alcohol. Well, the guys were on the clean up duty, Lydia was standing by the window.

"What's going on?" Jason took a trash bag and joined Danny in picking up the plastic cups, while Jackson was hiding the beer and the liquor.

"You were gone so long, I thought it was you who called the cops on us," Danny smiled.

It wasn't quite a joke, though, Jason saw it in how he wasn't quite turning his body to him, and the tense set of shoulders.

"Nope," Jason shook his head. "Was in the bathroom all this time. Beer didn't agree with me."

"You never even finished the cup," Danny said quietly, not looking at him.

"I'm a lightweight. Didn't I tell you before? My old man was very strict. I never partied before."

" Jason," Danny stopped. Stopped cleaning up, stopped smiling. "You didn't finish your cup. I know what you've been drinking. So unless you were forbidden any caffeine as well..."

"They aren't going here," Lydia said from her vantage point. "Something happened at the neighbor's place. Well, that's a waste of the evening."

She fell down onto the couch, petulantly crossing her hands over her chest. Jackson, after a few choice words, joined her there in a sulk.

Danny started to pick up the trash again, and Jason, too. Shit, he thought. Fuck. That's what you get for thinking you're smarter than others. No matter how experienced he was, this wasn't Gotham. He wasn't wearing any mask. What he did tonight could very much jeopardize his cover - his life. And he might have fucked up things with Danny, too.

"Hey," he said suddenly. "Everyone's gone, but you know what this means? More booze for us."

"You don't drink," Danny said.

"Sure I do," Jason insisted. "Starting now. What do you say, we play some kind of drinking game? Like, uh, put some sports on, and drink everytime your team has a goal... Or something..."

Jackson snickered.

"Cute, Greenberg. We're convinced. You know sports. It's when, uh, goals."

"No, no, let's do this!" Lydia clapped her hands. "But let's play truth or dare."

"Uh," Jason said.

"You don't want to play anymore?" Danny asked mildly.

"What the hell," Jason murmured. "I'm being peer pressured. I was warned about this. But sure, yeah, let's do this."

"You can't choose dare for more than three times in a row," Danny said.

"Is that a rule?" Jason raised his eyebrows.

"It is, now."

"Not an issue to me," Jason said. Like a liar who lies, etc.

But oh well.

***

Jason made a point of chosing only truth.

Danny made a point of not asking, actually, where he has been. It left Jason frustrated. Not that he planned on telling, or relished in an opportunity to lie to him - to them. But it was like Danny was driving home some point, and Jason was still missing it.

"Okay, Jason," Lydia said, after he chose truth again. "What's the worst thing you did?"

"I don't think I can answer that without my attorney present. Or even with him present."

"Your confession wouldn't be legally binding, though," Jackson pointed out. "So just - tell us. We won't testify against you in court, that would be hearsay."

Lydia ruffled his hair lovingly. Danny, Jason noticed, was looking at him with some guarded expectation.

"Alright," Jason said. "Let me think."

"Have you committed that many atrocities?" Lydia asked, huffing a laugh.

Jason shrugged.

"By whose standards? Society? Sure. Some parts of it anyway. My father? Definitely. My own? Well." He really went all over the list on his head.

He did commit.any horrible acts - in all those parallel universes. Killed people in cold blood. Attacked teenagers younger and much younger than him. Put kids into a danger's way, or at least proposed to.

Fucked with Bruce's mind, brought him to a breaking point, and he broke - just not in the way Jason expected or needed. But in a way that left Jason dead, Joker - alive, and laughing, laughing, laughing, while everything around them went up in flames from Jason's own bombs.

He smelled a sweet, mellonny aftershave. Felt a warm hand on his face.

"You alright, man?" Danny asked him, Jason heard, and the laughter was gone, the smoke was gone. "You don't have to answer, you know. You don't even have to drink anymore."

"No, it's alright," Jason said, taking a sip. "I just don't know what to choose. I did a lot of stuff I won't necessarily advertise. Some things may get me in trouble. It's just, by and large, I'm not ashamed of them. They weren't that much horrible, if they were done for the right reasons, yeah?"

"Did you murder someone?" Jackson opened his eyes wide. "Shit, Greenberg, if that's it, do me a favor and don't, in fact, tell us."

"Nah," Jason said.

Felipe, in this universe, was the only one - and even he wasn't Jason's murder victim per se. Manslaughter at worst. Jason really spooked him, when he tried to punch him in the face. Felipe was sampling his father's product on the regular, it was the same that night. He freaked, jumped back - only he was on the balcony, there was nowhere to jump but down. Eighty floors down. Was that Jason's fault? No, Jason reiterated. Gloria Stanson's suicide was his fault. Garzonas Jr was... A bastard nobody would have missed, except his father, who made him into this in the first place.

"No murder. I won't say I was always on the straight and narrow, but it never came to that."

"Is that why your father was so strict with you?"

Jason shrugged.

"Might have. He got me out from the streets, basically. Was worried that the streets would stay behind, underneath all that fleur he tried to drown me in."

"Street?" Lydia echoed.

"Well, yeah," Jason took another swing from his glass. "I'm - I was adopted, didn't I say?"

Jackson slowly shook his head.

"Well, I wouldn't, would I. I don't like to think about it. He was still my real father, you know, despite all his - paranoia, sometimes psychosis, that he projected onto me. Because he wasn't really worried that I'm going to start stealing again - he understood that it was just means to an end, for me. And he never acknowledged that he knew why I had two priors, or why my arresting officer let me go both times, after some time in the interrogation room with a turned off camera. Maybe he never knew, never suspected. We never talked about it. Anyway, that wasn't what he was worried about. He had this - mean streak in him. He was a good guy, you know, saving puppies, donating to charities. Soft spot for kids and outcasts, provided they weren't violent."

Jason closed his eyes. Didn't want to see their faces - pity, disgust, or just simple incomprehension. Didn't want them to see his eyes glistening, either. He ought to shut up, he ought to run away. But he wanted to tell them, tell someone - he wanted to stay.

"That's the thing. He didn't like violence, if exhibited by other people. Himself, he - that mean streak I mentioned? If you pushed his buttons, or if he was already on edge for some reason. Let's just say, he put more than one guy into intensive care. Although never in the morgue, don't think. He could stop in time. And me - well, he was worried that I wouldn't. That I will be like him - and I was, a bit, if you push my buttons. Kids, women, drugs, I don't like that. I don't like that at all. So he was worried that I'm gonna do something horrible to someone, something he had stopped himself from doing, just barely, always wanting. We shared that."

And then Bruce thought that Jason jumped all over the line he drew on the Gotham's quicksand. And Jason just fell down there. And drowned on a dry land.

Jason opened his eyes.

"Sorry, what I was saying?"

"It's fine, Jason," Danny said quietly. "You don't have to explain anything more. Let's get you some water, and get you to bed."

***

Jason stayed at Jackson's. He regretted drinking that night very much - not because of what he said, he didn't remember what he said. That was the problem; no, he made a recording of everything that went during the drinking game exactly for that reason, but still - a stupid risk. Almost burned his identity down.

But in a way, it made his alibi more thorough. He was very visibly hangover when a deputy took his statement. So, his story about drinking too much, puking his guts out upstairs, and then crashing at Jackson's house stood. No, sir, I don't know about any robberies. Are the owners alright? You can't say because of the open investigation, I see.

And that was that. Neither Lydia, nor Jackson or Danny brought up the events of the last night when Jason brought them to the diner, for the hungover cure breakfast Reddy swore by.

But Jackson sneaked at him glances all throughout. And when it was time for them to go, and for Jason to took up the shift, Jackson awkwardly half-hugged him before running after Lydia.

"We're cool?" Jason asked Danny with apprehension.

Do you forgive me for lying to you, he didn't say.

"I'm sorry," Danny said. "We shouldn't have made you drink."

"Hey, I made myself drink."

"Still. We shouldn't have continued asking you stuff after it became obvious that you're - sharing more than you would otherwise. I know what it's like, a bit."

"Over sharing?"

"Having a past," Danny said. "One I don't exactly advertise. Jackson knows, but that's because his father was my lawyer."

"You don't have to tell me," Jason shrugged. "If you want to do it just because it feels unfair - don't worry about it. You can tell when it feels right. It felt right for me yesterday."

"That's just whiskey cola speaking."

"Yeah, well. At least it was in a small group, and you guys won't talk about my sad street rat past, right?"

"Street rat, right," Danny said. "Of course. No, we wouldn't."

Jason knew Danny meant something other than that. Knew that those three probably figured out who exactly broke into Lahey's house, and why. Still. Danny said he wasn't going to say, and Jackson had some kind of emotion about it, so he probably wouldn't, either. And Lydia... Well. He just had to trust into her discretion. And anyway, there wouldn't be any DNA or fingerprints to tie him to the crime scene. Unless Sheriff Stilinski really cared about his office's closing rates, Jason was nowhere near hot water.

That's it, he said to himself. It's the first and the last time he was doing any kind of maskless Robin shit in Beacon Hills. Provided there were no red flags from the Sheriff, after the bait he fed him.

But Jason's worries about the Sheriff were moot. He still showed up at a diner once a week, talked with Jason for a bit - never about that conversation. But a bit about how Isaac was doing (foster placement with McCalls for now, looking into emancipation). A bit about regular stuff like asking about Jason's grades - steadily rising, and whether he was going to try out for the lacrosse team - he hadn't decided yet, needed to watch at least one game before that; he wanted to join cross country though. Stuff like that. Inconsequential, meaningless things that nobody else really asked Jason.

Things were quiet, up till at the tail end of the Fall, someone started to kill deer off in the Preserve.

[gaybd1]

oooo a new version of 9 people you’d like to get to know better

I’ve done this before and I was tagged in a lot of these by a lot of people but this version comes from @adriancatrin

Three ships: on my mind lately? zukka, zukki, makorrasami

First ever ship: I don’t remember what I said last time but I think my first actual active ship was probs spirk

Last song: currently playing - Alaska by Maggie Rogers. oh just kidding now it’s Wild Heart by Bleachers

Last Film: The Muppet Christmas Carol hehe

Currently Reading: same answer as before. It’s called like How to Talk to Kids so they Listen and Listen so they Talk to You or something

Currently watching: I started rewatching Arcane the other day

Currently consuming: nothing rn but I’m holding some Krispy Kreme donuts to give away at work bc I got a migraine from the sugar when I tried to eat one yesterday (that’s an unnatural level of sweetness for any country outside of North America omfg)

Currently craving: water. I’m on my 30 minute commute to work and there’s no drinking ANYTHING allowed on the metro

Sweet/spicy/savory: I tolerate them all but I’d say I prefer sweet and savory equally depending on the mood

Last thing I googled: Socratic seminar lol

Favorite color: NO idea? Gray? Yellow? Blue? One of those maybe?

Relationship status: Single but any of y’all are welcome to try to remedy that ;)

Currently working on: uh semester reports at work are kicking my booty so I’m not working on ANYTHING outside of that but I need to paint a portrait of my friends to gift them before their Christmas party later this month…

Im not tagging anyone this time bc I already have BUT if ur my mutual and u see this pls consider urself tagged ehehe

[emeriethevalkyriegirl]

Totally Spies (Valkyries) Chapter 27

@sunshinebingo @aelinchocolatelover

Friday 

“BEVERLY MIDDLE, GIVE IT ALL YOU GOT! RUN IT UP TILL YOU MAKE THAT SHOT!” The middle school cheerleaders chanted as one of the Velaris Middle boys rammed one of the boys from Beverly Hills and ran in the other direction to make a touchdown.

Nesta looked at the scoreboard. Velaris was winning 27-6. Beverly Hills was losing badly. And worst of all, the cheerleaders weren’t showing much emotion as before. Now, it was just faces of embarrassment from the other cheerleaders taunting their team. She sighed. “This is not going well.”

“Tell me about it,” Emerie said from her right. “I ‘borrowed’ 500 dollars from the guys’ wallets just so I can purchase these clothes and it was all for nothing,” she complained as she sat on the ground while crossing her legs. “Well, at least we got front-row seats.” Gwyn pointed out trying to lighten the mood. Emerie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, front-row seats to the boys’ failure.” Right after she said that Velaris Middle scored another goal kick, the score now being 28-6.

The cheerleaders heard a whistle blowing coming from their coach. “We’re going into halftime girls. 15-minute break,” she said as the cheerleader dropped their pom-poms and fast walked their way to the benches. As Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie sat down to drink some water, Emerie finished hers and burped. “Hey, wanna ditch these uniforms and get some food?” Emerie asks, her stomach growling in agreement. Ever since the game started, the cheerleaders weren’t able to bring any food with them because it was a home game. The only thing that they were allowed to bring was water. 

Finishing up her water, Nesta looked at her friend and replied, “Totally. Let’s do it while the teachers not looking.” 

“Or perhaps the principal?” All 3 girls screamed out of terror as they turned to realize that their principal was right behind. Eris smirked when he noticed their surprised faces. “What’s wrong? You weren’t planning on sneaking out, were you?” 

“No!” 

“No way!” 

“Of course not!” The girls said at the same time. Eris rolled his eyes. “Relax, you’re not in trouble,” he told them as the girls relaxed a bit. “I actually came here to ask you how school was going?” he asked like a genuine parent. The girls exchanged glances with one another, and each told him how much they loved it at school. “Can we have the Puppy Hunt again next year?” Gwyn asked as Eris laughed. “That is a lot of money that I have to pay just to make you kids happy. But I’ll think about it.” The girls heard someone calling Eris’s name from the bleachers. Eris sighed. “A principal’s work is never done. See you girls, later. Oh, and when you see Lucien, tell him I said hi.” 

After Eris left, the girls looked at the timer of the football billboard. 2 minutes until 3rd quarter. “Come on girls, looks like we’ll be staying the entire game after all,” Nesta said as her friends started to whine. 

As all the cheerleaders got back into their positions, the 3rd quarter of the match began. Beverly Hills started to cheer. “BEVERLY BEVERLY, GO GO GO! SHOW THAT OTHER TEAM WHAT YOU KNOW!” Right when they finished, a rumble started to sound causing everyone at the game to stop whatever they were doing. Even the football players froze in shock. As for the cheerleaders, the pyramids that were formed during the chant had started to fall and the girls trampled one another. 

A few moments passed until the rumbling started again. However, this time, it was a lot stronger. “Woah! Are we having an earthquake?” Emerie asked knowing that California was known for their earthquakes. Gwyn shook her head. “The weather report didn’t say anything about an earthquake today.” A chorus of screams was the only warning the girls received before a third rumble caused everyone to fall to the ground. Emerie looked in the distance towards the football field to see that the ground was starting to crack open. 

“Come on, we have to get under the bleachers!” Nesta shouted throughout all the chaos as she grabbed Gwyn and Emerie’s hands and raced under the stands. As soon as they were under there, they ran right into a blonde-haired teenager. “Tamlin?!” Tamlin, startled by the girls, screamed a bit and placed his hand over his heart. “Dammit, you scared the shit out of me.” 

“What are you doing here?” Nesta asked more surprised then mad. Why was she mad? Well cause the boys suspect that Tamlin may be the one behind all of this madness that they were going through. Yet again, she and girls still argue whether if he’s a friend or foe. They really hope it was a friend. But right now, seeing Tamlin here when he finished middle school years ago, nothing is about to help his case. 

Tamlin opened his mouth to respond, when someone from up top started screaming, “Is that a drill?!” They all heard as the ground started to crack around them and popping up from the surfaces was indeed a large power drill. The drill stopped working right after it reached the surface but one it did, the security at the game started to check to see who was inside. 

The girls turned back to Tamlin only to discover that he was gone. 

----------------------------------- 

After the events at the Pep Rally, the boys had arrived early like the other parents of their children to pick them up. How they managed to do that without getting caught was a mystery that the girls decided not to ask about. “You girls alright?” Cassian asked, leaning on his motorcycle. Nesta tried not to stare as she nodded. “Yeah, we’re okay. Scary but okay.” 

“Good, I didn’t wanna tell Shadow that his 3 moms died of an earthquake.” Cassian replied as Nesta the girls started to get on the bike. “Woah woah woah, this is my bike, you’re riding with my brother in Azriel’s car.” 

The girls looked over to see Azriel and Rhysand sitting in Azriel’s car. They barely even noticed that they were there. “If we’re riding with the others, why did you even bring your bike?” 

“So, I can impress the high schoolers,” Cassian replied with a smirk. The girls gagged at his sight while Cassian laughed. “You’ll understand when you’re older.” he said as the girls walked over to Azriel’s black car. The back door was unlocked for them to climb inside. “You guys okay? We heard about the earthquake.” Rhysand asked as the girls nodded. Azriel, who was sitting in the passenger seat, held out something black and furry. “I got you something from your dorm room.” 

“Shadow!” Gwyn cheered as she took Shadow out of Azriel’s hands and placed him in her lap. Shadow meowed sweetly as he was smothered by scratches and pets by the girls. “Shadow felt the rumble before anyone else did. He was pretty scared so we figured he needed some cuddle time with his 3 favorite moms.” Rhysand smiled right before he droved off, honking his horn to let Cassian know that they were leaving. 

“How come no one was able to tell that there was an earthquake?” Rhysand asked as Emerie spoke. “That’s because it wasn’t an earthquake. It was a power drill.” she said as Nesta and Gwyn nodded in agreement. “And I think Tamlin is responsible.” 

[jimi-rawlings]

Cheick Kongo's TOP 5 Fight Finishes | Bellator MMA

Savate

A French kickboxing martial art, Savate is a popular style that uses various kicks to inflict damage on opponents. Interestingly, savateurs wear boots when in the ring as Savate is French for "old shoe".

Savate also focuses on kicking with the foot, a vastly different approach from Muay Thai where the focus is on the shin.

In MMA today, UFC heavyweight Cheick Kongo is one of the best known savateurs.

Training in kickboxing in France, Kongo uses many of the art's deadly kicks to dominate inside of the Octagon.

Kongo has also effectively used his Savate training to amass a 21-2 record in kickboxing, knocking out 12 opponents.

Article from Bleacher Report.

George St. Pierre

[trendnfun]

WWE Raw Results: Winners, Live Grades, Reaction and Highlights from July 17

Welcome to Bleacher Report's stay protection and recap of WWE Raw on July 17 in Atlanta, Georgia.

With SummerSlam quick approaching, WWE is in full planning mode to arrange the entire matches for the occasion. One feud particularly that was superior this week was Brock Lesnar vs. Cody Rhodes.

Tag group motion was additionally a serious focus this week. The girls's tag titles have been on the road when Liv Morgan and Raquel Rodriguez put the belts on the road in opposition to Sonya Deville and Chelsea Green, and Alpha Academy took on The Viking Raiders in a Viking Rules match.

We additionally noticed Matt Riddle lastly get an opportunity to face Gunther with out Ludwig Kaiser and Giovanni Vinci at ringside.

Let's check out what occurred throughout Monday's episode of Raw.

The Beast Confronts His Nightmare

The Atlanta crowd welcomed hometown hero Rhodes again with open arms as he made his solution to the ring to open the present.

He spent a second speaking to the group earlier than addressing Lesnar, who he referred to as out instantly. The Beast by no means confirmed up, so The American Nightmare put the deal with his mom within the entrance row and requested the followers to acknowledge her.

As Rhodes was making ready to go away, Lesnar's music hit and he ready for a combat. The music stopped after which began up once more. Rhodes marched backstage after which got here stumbling again out after The Beast nailed him with a chair.

The former world champion proceeded to utterly demolish The American Nightmare proper in entrance of his mom. Lesnar accepted the problem for SummerSlam to finish the section.

With Rhodes being so over in his house state of Georgia, it was a sensible transfer to begin the present with this. It put numerous warmth on Lesnar and helped maintain their feud going successfully.

Grade: B+

Notable Moments and Observations

It's type of humorous to understand that we by no means get to listen to Rhodes' music for very lengthy since you begin listening to components of the track you will have by no means heard earlier than.

You can inform Rhodes' mother has been across the enterprise for many years as a result of watching her son get beat up barely phased her.

Matt Riddle vs. Gunther

Riddle and Gunther met for a Money within the Bank rematch, however this time, The Bro did not have to fret about Kaiser or Vinci getting concerned due to them being banned from ringside.

The IC champion discovered himself on protection and needed to counter a number of submissions instantly. When he left the ring to regroup and Riddle adopted, Gunther took him down with an enormous chop and a physique slam to fully flip the match round.

The Ring General did his greatest to slap the soul out of Riddle's physique, however The Bro saved himself within the combat and took each single a type of brutal photographs to the chest.

After placing up combat, Riddle was unable to kick out after a powerbomb. This was a hard-hitting match that confirmed off the variations and similarities of each males. The crowd was closely invested and handled The Ring General just like the villain he's.

Winner: Gunther

Grade: B+

Notable Moments and Observations

The CGI animals for Riddle's entrance have been rhinos, however Corey Graves referred to as them chubby unicorns.

They did job making this really feel fully completely different than their MITB bout.

Both guys had a pink chest after they traded a bunch of stiff chops.

Liv Morgan and Raquel Rodriguez vs. Chelsea Green and Sonya Deville

Judgment Day got here out to present a promo about their varied feuds and storylines. As normal, Dominik Mysterio was booed an excessive amount of to speak.

Kevin Owens and Sami Zayn got here out to speak slightly trash, which led to Damian Priest difficult them to place the tag titles on the road in a match, which KO angrily accepted.

Before the promo, Rhea Ripley attacked Rodriguez and injured her knee, making her a primary goal for Green and Deville of their title bout.

We returned from a break to see the match in progress. Green and Deville saved Morgan remoted with fast tags, however it did not take too lengthy for Rodriguez to tag in and assist her companion out.

This match ended up being far more aggressive than anybody might have predicted. The crowd was noticeably extra invested as time went on, however lots of people appeared upset to see the titles change arms when Deville scored the pin on Morgan.

The girls's tag group division may by no means be absolutely fleshed out, however the groups WWE has been pushing currently are doing job of constructing the matches enjoyable.

Winners: Sonya Deville and Chelsea Green

Grade: B-

Notable Moments and Observations

Every member of Judgment Day will get a unique response from the group, which is fairly uncommon on the subject of stables.

The method Samantha Irvin says Chelsea's identify throughout her entrance is so humorous.

It's nice to see Deville being handled like an even bigger menace. WWE used her to place different individuals over for too lengthy.

The method Deville broke up a pin with a working knee to Morgan regarded superior. The digital camera was within the good spot so Deville solely entered the body on the final second.

Alpha Academy vs. Viking Raiders

Chad Gable and Otis battled Erik and Ivar in a Viking Rules match in an try and put their feud to mattress as soon as and fo....read more

[news4usonline]

Explaining the Memphis Grizzlies implosion

(News4usonline) – The Memphis Grizzlies like to talk. When it comes to chirping, perhaps no team in the NBA does it better than the young, talented and annoying Grizzlies. That’s why they’re sitting at home watching the rest of the playoffs. The Grizzlies talk too much. Memphis players don’t know how to shut up and play. After their early exit in the 2023 NBA playoffs, a deeper inspection of the Grizzlies’ vomit by talking nature is necessary.

Oct. 23, 2021. Memphis Grizzlies star Ja Morant stored 28 points in his team's 120-114 win against the Los Angeles Clippers. Photo credit: Melinda Meijer/News4usonline Throughout the regular season and through the playoffs, the Grizzlies made inflammatory remarks about their opponent and presented themselves as being unprofessional. Ja Morant, the Grizzlies' star guard and one of the new poster child of the NBA decided to go thuggish and made headlines for all the wrong reasons. This was the season that Morant was supposed to take the Grizzlies, the Western Conference’s No. 2-seeded team deep in the postseason. That didn’t happen because media headlines around Morant centered more on his attitude and lifestyle than what he does on the basketball court. After a defeat to the Denver Nuggets earlier this year, Morant was seen on Instagram live, flaunting and displaying a firearm at a strip club. That was not a good look for either Morant or the ballclub. Morant wound up being suspended for eight games. Without question, this incident, near the end of the regular season, had an impact on the Grizzlies getting bounced in the first round. That was one distraction the Grizzlies did not need going into the postseason. Then there is the matter of Dillion Brooks. Brooks outdid his teammate in the negativity department thanks to the forward running his mouth like a water faucet when the Grizzlies played the Los Angeles Lakers in the first round. Like his buddy, Morant, Brooks made the headlines for the wrong reasons. Just all bad. Brooks, who has built a reputation for trash-talking and getting into game-time foolery, was just plain disrespectful toward LeBron James and the Lakers. After Game 2 against the Lakers, Brooks went the “Dumb and Dumber” route when he raked James over the coals with some basketball-related disparaging remarks. “I don't care. He's old. … I poke bears. I don't respect someone until he gives me 40,” Brooks told reporters, and later replayed by Tim MacMahon via Twitter. The Lakers beat Memphis in the best-of-seven series, winning four games to the Grizzlies’ two. The Lakers clinched the series with a 125-85 win in Game 6. That would be exactly 40 points. 24 in the books. keep fighting. keep pushing. pic.twitter.com/kG1wMTg5yb— Memphis Grizzlies (@memgrizz) April 29, 2023 On top of his verbal exchanges with James during their playoff series, Brooks and the Grizzlies ran their mouths in the postseason last year against Draymond Green and the Golden State Warriors. Green and Golden State had the final say, kicking Brooks and Memphis right out of the playoffs in six games on their way to a fourth NBA title. Green had this to say about Brooks after reading a statement from Brooks about him this season and the Warriors: “Next time you speak up on me you should do some fact-checking…you're a clown.” Via Bleacher report on Youtube. Before the Grizzlies were ousted from the playoffs by the Lakers, Memphis recorded a regular season tally of 51-31. Brooks averaged 14.3 points per game during the regular season and only 10.5 points per game. With his numbers and his production dropping, it has been rumored or leaked that Memphis is not interested in bringing Brooks back next season. In the final games of the Lakers-Grizzlies series, Brooks chose not to speak to the media and made himself unavailable to the press. He was fined $25,000 by the NBA. Brooks is not the first NBA player to become famous for their trash talk. However, avoiding the media when times are tough is not a good look. Bad sportsmanship is also not a good look. The Grizzlies need to act more professionally to change that makeup. Reporter Dennis J. Freeman contributed to this story  Memphis Grizzlies guard Ja'Morant warms up before hitting the court against the Los Angeles Lakers on Feb. 21, 2020. Morant was named the 2019-20 Kia NBA Rookie of the Year. Photo by Mark Hammond Read the full article

[cooper-price]

Blog #1

Super Bowl 50 Denver vs Carolina

This Super Bowl is a great one because it was Peyton Manning's last game that he would ever play. I would say this was a lackluster game, but it's still great because it was Peyton's last game. Carolina had the best record in the league with a 15-1 record, and they also had the MVP in Cam Newton. Both teams played amazing defense in the first quarter before the Broncos scored a touchdown. They were also able to drive down the field and score a field goal. And the Carolina Panthers were held to zero points. But in the second quarter, the Panthers were able to get their first points by scoring a touchdown. The Broncos were able to get in field goal range and make the kick. Making the score 13-7 at the end of the first half.

In the 3rd quarter, there weren't many points put up; only a field goal by the Broncos extended their lead to 16-7. But in the fourth, things looked good for Carolina, which came out and made a field goal. But after that, they could get it going again. And the Broncos would score with 3 minutes left and then stop Carolina and run the time out. Crushing the hearts of the Carolina Finals and running a historic season

cam According to bleacher report, Newton had 265 passing yards and Peyton had 141 passing yards.There were no passing touchdowns, which is bad, but there were still points put on the board. With a final score of 24-10, the Denver Broncos came out on top, and Peyton Manning went out on top, retiring on a Super Bowl ring. This is one of my favorite Super Bowl games, not because it was the best, but because Denver is my favorite team and Payton Manning is my favorite player. Im glad Peyton got to go out with another ring to add to his amazing career.

Going into this game, I was kind of scared for my Denver Broncos. The Carolina Panthers looked unstoppable in the regular season and in the playoffs, only losing one game coming into the Super Bowl. They really had something special that year with MVP Cam Newton and their stacked team, but just came up short.

[uncannyart]

[olnba]

Bleacher Report Kicks: @pjtucker带出了“神户” Air Jordan 3对抗湖人队...

olnba.com

[freshthoughts2020]

SOCKS: gettothecorner.com/welcome/hollywoodjames

[itoshi-s]

Heyy :) I hope you’re doing good! I see your taking thirsts and stuff 👀 I would like to have bachira x reader (aged up obv) where they’re married and he gets a special lingerie surprise ✨ + breeding kink 🏃‍♀️ Thank you <33

──✧ ˚ · “ 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭

*.✧ ft. 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

*.✧ wc: 2.6k. nsfw / 17+ only / minors dni ! - fem reader, characters are in their early/mid twenties, meguru & reader are married, breeding kink, mentions of planning babies. not proofread // notes: this is such a cute idea ,, thank u nonnie for the request !! and sorry for makin u wait that long </3 hope u like it tho !!

there is something saccharine about the way you treat him, meguru thinks. 

he’s tried his whole life to be a good person - never really did anyone wrong, at least not by intention - but could meeting you really be an adequate reward for his heartfelt nature? 

just in case the universe ever decided to change it’s mind about it, he doesn’t want to waste no time or take you for granted. it’s a little unexpected, perhaps crazy - but meguru knows it well. isagi pounces on his best friend as soon as he opens the neat cream-colored envelope and reads the very few words of the wedding invitation; and as you both stand at the altar and read out your vows to each other a few months later, you swear you can see the rest of the former blue lock top players wipe at their eyes.

he’s never been big on giving out details on his private life to the media, even despite his open and playful personality, but the wedding of course brought their attention; once you’re back from the two weeks long honeymoon trip and the season starts, meguru can only laugh and grin at the reporters as they congratulate him on the marriage.

“yeah, i really am a lucky guy,” he looks over to the camera, eyes twinkling despite the exhaustion making him pant slightly still. he brings a hand up, showing off the white gold ring that beams in the reflectors, “love you, baby.”

the news about japan’s best dribbler tying the knot at such an early age surprisingly doesn’t bring too much negative feedback - and actually, you two might just be one of the favorite soccer couples in the country. you’re just too sweet - always in the very front row of the bleachers, clad in your husband’s jersey, screaming your lungs out whenever he steals the ball. there’s always a picture of bachira with his arms wrapped around your waist, you giving the crown of his head an earnest kiss, taken just minutes after the final whistle of the game. you’re the very first thing he wants to feel - the only person that can handle his emotions, his frustration, his joy. 

despite being only in his mid twenties and the idea of being a married man at this age would make him roll with laughter long years ago, meguru’s sure that somehow, this had to be written in his fate - because it just feels too right to have you.

    he thinks the exact same when you welcome him home at the front door, in your cream colored silk robe already due to the late hour, and manages to steal a glance of the white lace hiding underneath.

    “is that a prize for yesterday?” he sounds playful, giddy, even, but you can tell by his dilated pupils that it takes a lot of control for him not to bend you right over the couch. 

he kicks his shoes off, a slight grin tugging at his lips, and rests his hands on your hips with an urgent squeeze.

you hum, a small giggle slipping past as you feel meguru’s teeth nibble on your earlobe, “you noticed? i wanted to give you a little show,” you mumble, hands resting on the slippery material of his training jersey. he breathes against your ear, heavier and quicker than usual. he’s needy and you can tell - feel his already fully hard cock press against your abdomen. 

“you still can,” he murmurs, pressing little kisses to the sensitive skin just below your ear, “please, baby?” his lips move against your heated skin and a sigh slips past your mouth, the feeling causing your head to lull to the side and your eyelashes to tickle against your cheekbones. 

meguru gives your waist a squeeze, fingers digging into the satin clad flesh, before moving to the couch and plopping down. he lets go of you just enough to keep you standing between his spread legs and looks up at you, waiting. bangs stick to his forehead slightly, still sweaty from his practice, and his eyes are wide - excited and bright.

if there was one thing you loved most about your husband, it’s definitely the glint behind the honey colored irises that makes him so warm, inviting, and so alluring.

leaning his head back comfortably, his eyes follow the way your hands slowly slip the robe off your shoulder, then work on untying the knot at your waist.

“fuck,” there’s an urgency to his little whisper, a sound that makes the corners of your lips twitch. “reminds me of-”

“i know,” you mumble with a smile, so sweet it makes bachira’s tummy flutter. the eyelash lace is a bright white, a pretty contrast to the hue of your skin, a rich gold thread drawing pretty little flowers along the swell of your breast.”figured you’ll like this.”

oh of course he did. in fact, anyone else would probably feel embarrassed upon getting so worked up so quickly - but meguru has no shame in the way looking at his pretty little wife, clad in a lace set that resembles the one you wore on your wedding night, makes his cock twitch in his shorts within a minute.

he’s needy, but you’re at fault for it.

your fingers slip up, nails catching on the white elastic of the garters that digs into the flesh of your thighs, and meguru’s eyes follow the movement, saliva thick in his throat. as your fingertips caress along the lace suspender belt, your gaze moves down, catching on the visible bulge in his shorts, and how he keeps his hands on his knees - so well behaved it makes you chuckle. “don’t be shy,” you tease, and bachi blinks once before grinning himself. he leans forward, hands moving to grab at your thighs and pulling you forward. you stumble a bit, not expecting such an urgent movement, but don’t have time to react as meguru’s mouth already latches onto your neck.

he breathes against the soft skin, a trail of goosebumps rising in turn, and grips your hips tightly to rut his hips against your core. it’s sudden and quick, desperate, and you can hear the exhilaration as he whines. 

“so pretty,” he sighs, nearly dreamily, and digs his fingers in the flesh of your ass. “want you so bad now, baby. you make me so hard it hurts.” 

bachira isn’t ever the one to shy away from letting his mouth run - always vocalizes each and every need, no matter how filthy and desperate it is - and hearing his breath hitch as he does it is just enough to make arousal cling to your thighs. 

“meguru,” you whimper, the force of his grip enough to make you bruise - but it’s okay. “please, i need you.” 

gold eyes lock with yours, and he pulls away from your chest, where he was busy nipping and kissing. “yeah? y’missed me?” there’s a hint of hope in his voice, as if surprised. as if you weren’t soaking wet for him nearly all of the time - particularly waiting for him to get back home from practice.

he hooks a few fingers behind the elastic of the thong and pulls it down with your help, a little lift and shimmy of your hips, and eases the flimsy material down your legs. as soon as it’s off, he cups your heat with one hand, warm and rough, and it makes you jolt. 

“hah- fuck- you’re dripping all over me, baby. m’sorry i kept you waitin.” he moans, palm rubbing against your clit messily, and he can feel the throbbing pulse against his hand. his fingers are wet with your slick already, but he doesn’t mind - not at all.

resting one hand at the small of your back, bachira’s quick to flip you over with no effort, lips connecting with yours the second your back hits the couch.

his kiss is messy, soft moans breathy against your mouth as he pushes his tongue against yours with need. it’s hot and wet, desperate as his hands stumble to push his shorts down and hold himself up above you at the same time.

your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, the movement almost a muscle memory by this point, and you watch as meguru takes his shirt off hurriedly. slim muscles flex at the action, the scent of sweat and his cologne still clinging to his milky skin. you moan out, the pheromones clouding over your mind, and you reach between your bodies, fingers barely wrapping around his throbbing cock.

“ah-” there’s a slight whine ripping from bachira’s throat, a sound that’s so pretty, so fitting to the already fucked out expression on his features. “you’re a needy thing, aren’t you? want me inside of you already~” you flick your wrist, giving a few long strokes to his length, and muster a quick nod. 

“yeah, ‘guru,” you breathe, chest heaving softly with every breath, fingers moving from his crotch to grab at his bicep instead. you watch, eyes glued between your legs, as he slides his cock between your folds a few times, coating it in your slick, before eventually easing himself in.

your body grows tense at the feeling, walls throbbing and tightening on bachira, swallowing him whole - right up to the very base as he bottoms out fully, a grunt rumbling in his chest.

your head tilts back, not a single moan having slipped out yet, and it feels as if your mind’s slowly turning into mush. it’s just him, all inside of you, his body so hot against your frame, pressing against you and overwhelming each and every of your senses. it only ever brings you back afloat when meguru starts to move, hips moving back just slightly before pushing back in. he’s so deep inside if you, it feels as if he’s in your guts.

“just like that,” you struggle to focus your eyes on bachira’s face as he moans, voice already reaching an octave higher with arousal, and you notice his eyes are trained just above where your cunt is grappling to fit all of him. “fuck- ngh- can you feel me here?” 

your quick pants turn into little whines when meguru places a hand on your lower abdomen, pressing down on the flesh, and the crazed look behind his eyes makes you shudder. you can feel him move inside of you, rubbing up all against the most sensitive spots, the flared head of his cock stumbling against your cervix - and it would usually make you wince, but this time, as he presses a large palm against the fucking bulge in your tummy, it makes you feral.

“you’re- ‘re so big,” your voice is wet with tears, adrenaline pumping through your veins and easing the discomfort that comes with each of bachira’s thrust that almost feels like he’s going to break you apart. “feel you whole, meguru.” there’s something so sweet about the way you say his name, it makes his hips stutter before picking up a quicker, steadier rhythm. bachira groans under his breath, bending his arm so he can rest his elbow beside your head, and moves his hand from your tummy to wrap your leg around his waist even tighter. 

your pussy’s so warm, so slippery, and it’s almost as if you’re sucking him in even deeper each time he pushes his hips forward. he wonders how is it even possible for you to feel so heavenly, as if your cunt was molded perfectly for him to fit. 

maybe you really were made for him only.

bachira feels the familiar pull in his balls, as if a jolt of electricity runs through his nerves, and he whines, shameless and breathy as his eyes find yours.

“my pretty girl,” he moans, watching your face contort in pleasure, brows furrowing and eyes glimmering, “wanna stuff you full, ‘kay? you want that?” there’s no time for a coherent response as his hips smack against your ass, thrusting so hard it makes you jostle. the slight twitch of bachira’s cock inside of you is just enough to give away his climax creeping in, but as he lets the filth spill out past his mouth you realize just how desperate he is to reach it. “fill you up with m’ cum until you leak. yeah? wanna make me a daddy, pretty girl?” 

he’s blabbering at this point, high pitched moans breaking into a whine as he watches your eyes roll back. he’s down so bad, chasing his orgasm and the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him, you don’t think he even realizes the weight of his words. 

your back arches, legs tightening around bachira’s slim waist, and cry out as his hand once again rests on your abdomen, pressing down and making your pussy spasm. 

“please, meguru,” you gasp, the familiar spark growing stronger in your tummy. you can feel his cock drag against the front wall of your cunt, rubbing against the spot that makes your muscles grow pliant. “please- fill me up.” you breathe, shakily, and your voice barely makes it out of your throat. “wanna give you- aah- give you a baby.”

it’s experimental, sounds so lewd as you say it between little moans, but you know bachira’s lovesick. you know that the slim, white gold band that sits snugly on his finger is his greatest possession, a reminder of his devotion to you - and even though the two of you haven’t discussed expanding your family yet, you can see the way meguru’s eyes widen slightly and adam’s apple bobs upon hearing your words.

you can feel his hips stutter, sturdy quads pressing against your ass, and bachira whines, long and needy, as his heavy thrusts grow sloppy. you can see him struggling to keep his eyes on you, drinking up the look you give him, egging him on - but as your walls throb around him and a gasp catches in your throat, your orgasm hitting you full force, he squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head in the crook of your neck.

he ruts into you, the few last pushes into you reaching so deep it makes you cry and grab at his back, and eventually, he stills. his hips are snug against yours, breathy whimpers loud in your ear, breaking through the white noise that echoes through your head, and you feel his seed spurt right against your cervix. it’s hot, feels sticky and thick as he fills you up, granting you your wish and stuffing you so full, there’s a rivulet of milky cum seeping out and down your thigh. 

“baby,” he sounds so riled up as he breathes, mouthing against your collarbone, “shit - feels so good.” he’s choked up with pleasure, body trembling slightly with aftershocks of his climax, and you wrap your arms around his neck - inviting, easing him through.

“i know,” you whisper, legs eventually loosening in their spot around his hips as he lets himself rest on top of you. his body’s spent, heavy as it lays on you, but you don’t mind it one bit - not when he nuzzles against your neck, eyelashes fluttering against your jugular, and sighs. 

bachira sneaks his arms around your waist, skin clammy on one another, but it feels so familiar, it’s warm in his chest and makes his heart throb. 

it doesn’t stay silent for too long as meguru’s soft laughter cuts through the heavy, humid air. he cocks his head up, a glint in his eye.

“you meant it?” he’s curious, almost hopeful, and despite your cheeks already having reddened with exhaustion, his inquiring brings an even deeper blush to your face.

you shrug, softly, and meguru reads right through it, the giddy smile wide on his lips.

“do you want me to?” 

reblogs are greatly appreciated ! :)

© itoshi-s. do not plagiarize, repost as your own or mention on other sm platforms.

[punk-in-docs]

🕷Power of Suggestion🕷

Eddie Munson x Reader, one shot 

5.3k words

Summary: His seer dark eyes drag across the courtyard crowds, the preps, the band kids, the dweeby nerds. Like he’s searching for something amongst the bubbling crowds of many.

His eyes find their way to yours and it’s a clap of lightning that stuns and stings.

Because he smiles right at you

Or;

You see Eddie at school after he gives you a lift home. There’s definitely something you need to resolve. It’s mind over matter and there’s something you’re both after. 

“Trig is kicking my ass. I got a D on my last paper. I swear to god, Mr Taylor actually like fucking hates me.” Linda whines as she plucks another chip from your open packet in front of you. Flipping open her pink framed sunglasses. Purple bangles clack on her arm.

“Can’t help you there. I’m useless at trig.” You sighed in agreement as you reached for your fruit cup. Ripping off the lid.

“But maybe you shouldn’t keep blowing off his class to make-out with Jonny under the bleechers. Just an idea.” You point out. Picking over your fruit with the little fork.

“God, you sound like my mom.” She throws a splinter of a chip at your knee.

You grin. Pop the plastic straw of your juice box in your mouth. Clicks right between your teeth. Suck on it all smug.

“Glad one of us does.” You beamed. She huffed and set herself out on top of your table. Hitching her acid washed denim skirt up a little, and laying down so she could work on her tan.

Wiggling her off-the-shoulder pink top down her neckline even lower. Her legs dangling off the table, swaying as she laid there basking, like she was at the beach. And not on lunch break.

It’s one of those days in school where it’s all stuffy humidity and too bright buttery sunshine. The breeze block grey hallways inside stay cool, but outside the heat is vicing.

You decided to take your lunches outside for today. You’d found a spot on a table, swallowed in the shade of a pillar.

Linda was the opposite. Out there for the whole school to see. Skirt hitched up. Soaking up the rays. Which really said it all.

Where you sat you could both listen to the track team warm up for training on the field. Must be sweating bullets by now in this heat.

She didn’t want any lunch other than a diet soda. Watching her figure apparently.

She just bitched her usual, and picked off your plate. Stole your chips and still found the energy to give you a whole earful of shit about ditching her at the party.

She hadn’t shut up about it. In fact. She’d only just stopped scowling your direction.

As if she had every right to be pissed at you, and not the other way around. It made for a pretty tense pickup when you bounced your rusting yellow capri into her driveway this morning.

She stomped across her lawn and got into your passenger side with a grimace slapped on. You threw the keys at her head which she narrowly caught.

Where the ever living fuck were you? We were looking for these for over an hour.

You’d grinned.

Yeah, well. Turns out I had spontaneous plans too.

The resulting glare she gave you could’ve blistered skin.

As you let her steal more of your lunch, you flick idly though your English homework. Book report. Rereading it for the thousandth time, tapping your pencil against the table. You were pretty wired when you finished it last night. Too much coffee, you suspect. You want to check it doesn’t read too jittery.

Whistles blast from the field, cheering team mates and friends comes bubbling across from the bleachers. The air is all wet grass baked dry by sun.

A couple of Jocks who walk past your table wolf-whistle and make typical jeering comments seeing her tanned legs all laid out on the table top. Tiny skirt so far up her toned thighs.

She flips them the bird and they laugh all the more.

“Blow me, sweetheart.” One of them leers.

This causes her to huff and sit up. She rips her shades down and gives them her most scathing stare. Under her pretty packed blue eyeshadow and peachy pink blush heavy on her cheekbones, her eyes were set to her particular brand of pure ice-cold loathing.

“I don’t work with small equipment.” She grins all sickly at them. Heavy emphasis on her last word.

“Yeah we heard about that.” One of them smirks suggestively. They lumber away to the track field. Sniggering with each other.

“Those guys are such assholes.” She comments with a derisory sniff. Laying her head back down. Mushing her blonde curls.

“They’re wearing letterman jackets.” You state. As if that should speak for itself. Not looking up, keeping hunched over your lunch and your ever-mounting pile of homework.

She twists to turn around and look at you as she slips back on her glasses.

“We get it. You hate jocks.” She says like she’s bored of your well deserved hatred of them.

“Only ones that stand or breathe.” You glean sarcastically.

“You know, you shouldn’t be so picky. You’ve not exactly got guys lining up.” She slings one of her thoughtless jabs at you.

You’re used to them now. The acid slice of her insults land on your numbed ears.

“Because dating and boys has to be the most important mark of my personality?” You ask. Flicking through your book. Knowing full well her answer will be in the positives.

“You need to stop being so square and pop that cherry, babe. Trust me. Don’t wait til you’re in college.” She points her manicured finger at you. Like she’s handing out some sort of sage bullshit wisdom. Warning you off with a wag of her fierce fuchsia pink fingernail.

You might aswell sit and talk to the trash can against the far wall at this point. It might be a better listener.

“Thank you for that pearl of wisdom. But I’m still fine with having a jock-less existence.”

She giggles suddenly. It sounds completely evil. “Suit yourself. But Jonny does this thing with his fingers-”

“No! No, and no.” You wince. Talking over her. “Jesus Fucking Christ.”

You throw a balled up piece of spare paper at her head. It bounces off her forehead. She throws it back, offended. Sails it cleanly over your shoulder.

“What is even your type anyways? Science nerd? Someone from band?” She digs.

Hell no, you think to yourself.

“My ideal type of guy is, none of your business.” You turn a page and smudge out another typo.

“Come on. You do every piece of homework annoyingly on time, or you’re home alone, or in the record store working overtime with your hippy nut-bag of a boss. That’s all work and no play.” She points out. Tapping her toes where she lays.

You smile at her description of Sal. The eternally grouchy hippy-rocker who ran the store where you worked. He was a walking cliche in his leather trousers and a suede vest that drips fringe. Tie dyed bandanna fused to his head.

Proud owner of Nirvana Records. Scraping by on pennies cause kids came in for all that new wave poppy shit. The name of the business he interestingly plucked straight out of one of his acid trips in the 60’s. When he was selling t-shirts to score shrooms at Woodstock.

“Hey. I’m not always on my own or working. Don’t forget the terrible make out parties you drag me to kicking and screaming.” You add.

“Heaven forfend you actually kiss one guy before you’re a freshman in college. I’m just trying to shake some fun into you, babe.”

You bite back a smile chewing on the end of your pencil in a vain attempt to hide it.

You hadn’t told her about Eddie.

His big hearted act of chivalry taking you home, and the furtive doorstep kiss. You weren’t prepared for the screechy judgemental outcome that would be hurled your way like a category five hurricane if she knew.

Didn’t stop you thinking about him all night though.

Wrapped up in your bed, under your sheets. Still a little drunk, mind swirling along with the whirling distortion of your bedroom ceiling.

When you closed your eyes, you were tugged back to that moment alone on your lawn with him.

It was imperfectly perfect. The way it caught you off guard. His chapped lips. The thin film of sweat over you from the humid night. The way your hair felt just frizzy, and wrong and just, not you.

The goofy and very real unguarded stuff you’d been laughing about in his van. The flirty look he aimed your way when he held out his arm to you to get your number. That dazzling grin.

You were buzzed and there was this heady charge like crackling dry static between you. Had been since you stumbled across each other in Kyle’s garden. Like that hot chalky sky blooming over a dry prairie before lightning scrawled.

You couldn’t get those big beautiful puppy eyes out your head. The way he smiled so wide and pure across at you, with the streetlights threading a funky warm orange through his crazy hair.

The way his hands had felt with those rings on clutching your shoulder through your jacket to steady you, or holding your hand.

You kept wanting to reach up and touch your lips. Recalling that vivid skipping spark that lit you up like the Fourth of July - all fireworks and pops and zinging rockets - when you thought about every second of his sweet, brushed kiss.

How hard you burned when he kissed you right back.

You wondered what would happen if it got dirtier- you wanted to yank him close by his denim lapels and taste that cheap beer on the bed of his tongue.

Feel his hand across the back of your neck to clutch you in deeper. Sink your hands in that fluffy rioting hair. The soft of his tongue against your teeth. Make him groan and melt. Make him want to push you up flush against the side of his van and get frantic with it.

The thought of making out so dirty with Eddie made your thighs clench tight. Filthy messy kisses with too much spit and wandering hands. Greedy and breathless and gasping for more. Starving.

You blink back into life when you realise she’s still whining at you. The drone of her voice meets your ears once more.

“We all know you’re well on track to Indie State for Art like a proper little Miss goody-two-tits…“

You snort at her words.

“But seriously, live a little before you get sad and old, and your ass starts to sag.” She offers up.

“You should be a poetry major.” You tell her with thinly veiled amusement.

She knows you’re not going to take any of this venomous ‘advice’ seriously. But that doesn’t stop her from pestering you constantly with it. Hailing you with the jagged shrapnel of her opinions.

“You know I’m right.” She hummed at you. Satisfied with herself.

“Well. You better let me get back to my homework. I got a hot date at the library with my physics paper. Then I’m gonna go full academic recluse. Wear nothing but a ratty bath robe. Only exist on Slim Jim’s. Maybe get ten cats-“ You tease.

“You joke about it- but that could actually be your Friday night.” She mocks.

“Don’t call me when you’re a mad old art professor with greying frizzy hair and those ten cats. I’ll be in Monaco with one of those guys from Wham.” She dreams.

You roll your eyes and return to your work.

She returned to basking in the sun. Which really said it all.

“Oh, before I forget, can I copy your answers for that paper in Mrs Rodriguez’s class on Wednesday?”

The irony is just too great.

“Seriously?” You seethe at her. Slamming your pencil down.

She shrugs. “I didn’t have time to study.”

“The party was Friday. What were you doing all day Saturday and Sunday?”

She smiles. Moves hair off her neck so you could see her myriad of blue-black hickies swelling to grape purple. Salacious look on her face. “Worth every minute of ignoring homework.”

“Good grief.” You sigh. Shoving your book towards her. It’s not worth her tantrum to refuse.

“Have it back by Tuesday or I swear to god, I will hurt you so, so, much.” You threaten.

She puckers an air kiss over at you. Talk about sweet and fucking sour.

Over the din of the sunny lunchtime crowds buzzing around the courtyard, one particular group of high schoolers stand out from the rowdy rabble din of the table they’re occupying across the way.

It’s the cluster of Hellfire shirts you see first.

You recognise some of them. The kids. There’s Lucas Sinclair, the skinny but sweet new guy on the bench with the basketball team. There’s Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother with the shaggy mop of black hair and fine bladed nose. They’re crammed around the table with schoolwork, and sheets of paper. Revving up for a campaign, no doubt.

Henderson with his riot of curls and cute science themed base ball caps, and that adorable pudgy smile. There’s a couple other guys too. Older guys. Jeff, and Greg? Gary?You weren’t entirely sure of their names.

And it’s then you glimpse the familiar manic trappings of one gorgeous metal-head at the beating heart centre of it all.

Your heart does some crazy wild stunt on seeing him again. Pounds and wracks your ribs like it wants out.

Eddie is sat on the table, feet on the bench seat, king of the heap. Surveying his D&D lackeys. The empire of his sins.

He’s got a half chewed green apple in one hand. That infamous metal navy lunchbox nudged against his black jean thigh. No jacket and denim vest on him. Just his Hellfire shirt ending at his elbows.

Henderson says something to him. Eddie slyly grins. All snake eyes and wide white teeth around a snapping bite of his apple. Playfully yanking down the brim of Henderson’s hat over his eyes. Spins him away with the force of it.

He chews on his apple again. Leaning forwards, toes tapping on the bench in his dirty reeboks, elbows clasping to his knees. His seer dark eyes drag across the courtyard crowds, the preps, the band kids, the dweeby nerds. Like he’s searching for something amongst the bubbling crowds of many. Looking-

His eyes find their way to yours and it’s a clap of lightning that stuns and stings.

Because he smiles right at you-

No sense of self-preservation or censoring any expression he feels. He must be braver than you cause he just wears it. Wears everything out in the open, studded on that messy-edged battle vest of his.

He’s so used to people being- prickly with him. They just don’t know quite how to handle him, and they just fire out scathing insults, or edge away. They don’t get him.

Only you did. And he’s not been able to stop thinking about you ever since.

You lived in glorious perfect - torturing - technicolour behind his closed eyelids the last few nights. He ran back over every touch. Every graze of your eyes falling on him. The feel of your lips, light caught in your bouncy hair, and how his dick fucking throbbed with need when you pressed in and kissed him back.

You didn’t look away. You didn’t shy and recoil from his touch. You sat there, eyes flicked fully forwards to glimpse all of him. Laughed at his jokes, didn’t make snide remarks about his music. Kissed his cheek like you were afraid to peel open and show more of yourself to him.

You got him hooked. Because now he definitely wants to glimpse more.

He sees the way you avert your gaze and look all jittery when he smirks at you across the tables.

And how he fucking adores it.

Your breath catches in your throat. You twitch your hand where you’re holding your pencil. Some weird jerky gesture of a two fingered wave back.

Ok Lame. That was so lame goddamnit-

You can’t help the way your smile quirks up. Your cheeks absolutely blaze with it. Stomach all melting and gooey slippy with the sensation of a heady new crush.

Your heartbeat punched into your belly like stomping recoil. Possibly even hitting a tad lower- because despite your best level-headed efforts you are just as composed of raging hormones and lusty need as any other teenager. And this wicked menace of a cute guy, is making your internal compass slam haywire from point to point.

You’re crushing on him. Hard.

Super hard. Times ten- No, scratch that. Times a hundred. Turn it up to eleven.

Those big bright eyes, edged with such wilderness. He’s got a path wound around around his little finger, and you’re treading it without question, without caution. Who knows where you’ll end up. It’s exciting as hell.

But it appears you both want to follow that path. See where it ends you-

You wet your lips and avert your gaze to your work. Stuck between squiggled ink lines in your book. Not sure where else to look. Worried you’ll get good and lost in that magnetic chocolate gaze of his. Never able to wander free again.

Out of nowhere a sudden gust decides to snatch at the loose paper leafs of your homework. Twitching and yanking it out from your textbook.

Dragging it across the table, threatening to tumble it over the dusty scraping rocks of the grey courtyard.

You slam your juice carton down to the table, and awkwardly untangle yourself ready to chase it across the fucking track field if the wind got up.

“Shit.” You slap your hands to the sheets on the table. A couple slip off the other side, spilling off side and slouching to the floor.

You’re bent in half practically flattened across the top of the table, hands skating and slipping for it.

Another hand joins yours.

Nearly slid on top of your own. Familiar silver rings on very familiar fingers. Capturing the papers that had just managed to escape you. Bat tattoos fluttering over his forearm. Along with some barely faded inky digits that makes your stomach just swirl all giddy with recognition.

You look up and Eddie is grinning that gleaming smirk down at you. All grin dimples, and creases by his eyes.

Getting a hand on the pages and sliding them back towards you. Hands for the barest second brushing over yours. His touch is so hesitant. Kind.

He’s expecting you to spurn him away in front of everyone. That’s what usually happens.

He’s waiting for it now- in front of your friend, with him, you’ll shrink, brush him off. Be curt. You’ll send him away scorned. Call him a freak like they do, and this time that little dagger of a word really will cut deep.

But no. The heavens have cracked open for him. You’re smiling-

Smiling directly at him-

“Slippery little suckers, huh?” He beams. The half chewed green apple is still in his other hand.

You could collapse forwards in a complex burning implosion of embarrassment and giddiness onto this table. You really could.

“I mean I hate Physics as much as the next person, but sudden abandonment seems an extreme.” You smile. Nervously wetting your lips.

His smile grows and he laughs a little, and you actually think you hear harps. Dear sweet god.

“Hey Pencils.” He greets all sweet. Hair falling fluffy around his face. Eyes twice as bambi brown and melty as you remember.

“Hey, yourself.” You return gently. Maybe one day you’ll just stumble into him without needing to be rescued like some weak maiden. Or have your schoolwork scraped off the pavement and handed back to you.

“Looks like you’re saving my bacon again, Munson.” You insist.

Gratefully taking your work and slotting it deep inside a heavier book. You trap the suckers there. Though you can’t say you’re sorry it brought him over here. Your fingers brush his again and you really can’t be held responsible for the way your brain goes twitchy on the blink.

“They don’t call me ‘Eddie the Merciful’ for nothing.” He grins. Opening his palms outwards to present himself all wide and flailing.

“Patron saint of saving drunk girls at parties and their grades in Physics.” You smile. Clutching at papers. Scooping them back in.

“Saint huh? Damn. Don’t know about that one, babe. I’m more familiar with the term anti-christ.” He shoots you a clever look that’s all dipped in flirt.

He likes how honest you are. And he really loves how you seem more like, you, today.

Gone are those wannabe Whitney Houston neon threads he saw you in at the party. Knowing full well you borrowed them from the Malibu Barbie currently sunning herself next to you.

He watched from across the tables, the way your bangs fell into your eyes. When the jocks walked by they leered at your her sat there prostrating her legs. Didn’t even take the time to see you.

He did.

Smiled to himself when he really should’ve been listening to whatever-the-shit Henderson was saying to him. He watched you lob a ball of paper at her thick head when she doubtlessly got annoying.

Your hair is all long choppy layers, Something echoing a Farah Fawcett shag and today it’s not fluffed up all poofy with products. Sleeker. You’ve just tied it back to keep it off your face.

You’re wearing a pair of tight bootcut jeans with a brown leather belt and sneakers. A brown and red plaid shirt that looks all soft and worn and he suspects is a hand-me-down cause it’s a tad too big. You got the tails tied around your middle.

He smiles when he sees the Nice N Sleazy Stranglers tee underneath. Charcoal and paint smeared across the knees of your jeans and splattered like lost little stars on your shoes.

In all the commotion, Linda only just bothered to sit up. But now she definitely went to the trouble of raising herself up to sear a scowl in his direction.

She lowered her baby pink sunglasses and flicked her eyes derisively over him like he was mangled roadkill.

“Lost your way to the losers table, Freak?” She spits with venom. Words punching like nails out a gun.

Eddie almost swaggers to look at her. Challenge accepted.

“Came over for a splash of that sugary-sweet attitude of yours, blondie.“ He tilts his head at her.

Does this thing where he widens his eyes a little. Playing on the way people thought he was satanic. You understand now; It was all part of his armour.

If he slots it in place and punches and kicks back to keep people at arms length. Perhaps then, their nasty knife-tip words will never slip underneath that steel plating that so protects him.

An integral part of his Munson doctrine. He was designed to unsettle. To mislead.

“Turn around and keep walking. We don’t need any reefer today.” She wafted her hand at him as she laid back down. Acting like she was Lady Muck dismissing a servant.

You want to drop your science textbook on her face. And it’s weighty too. Could make some serious dents.

“Sure? I got some good shit that’s great for mellowing out bitchiness.”

He snaps another bite into his apple. Those brown eyes shift all needle sharp. Amused. “Few hits wouldn’t hurt.” He speaks through chewing.

You don’t try very hard to bite back a smile.

“What’s your problem, trailer trash?” She scoffs. Sitting up. Disdain scuffing her tone.

“No problems here, Barbie.” He grins all chirpy. And it’s lethal.

“Just helping out a damsel in distress. Kinda my bag these days.” And his gaze swivels on back to you. Flutters his brows.

She looks between the two of you. The tension between you is singeing the air. Blistering at the corners.

“What am I missing here?” She asks you.

Cause Eddie doesn’t technically exist as much more than an atom spec on her popular radar.

“Eddie was nice enough to give me a ride home from Kyle’s party after you ditched.” You defend for him.

She looked vaguely ill with the mere idea.

“Surprised you didn’t become his latest victim.” She snipes.

“You are really growing on me, blondie. You single?” He plays around.

“Got a fresh tarp in the van that could use a little O-negative splashed on it.” He widens his eyes again. Makes that devil smile with a curling tongue at her that could rival Gene Simmons.

He leans on the table. Bent over. Elbows rested together. Hands twined still holding his apple. Acting like he’s making a pass at her. His theatric way of defending himself.

She frowns as she looks at him invading her surroundings like he’s rotting meat attracting flies. Contaminating her air space.

“Jackass.” She lashes out.

He crunches his apple again and grins as her as he chews noisily. Crushing shiny flesh and creamy fruit with those pearly whites.

“Is that the only way you can pick up chicks, Munson?” She digs at him. “Trap drunk one’s in your van.”

“Yeah. And If I make the knots tight enough they can’t get away from me.” He teases all devilish. Staring her down. Unblinking.

“Knock it off, Linda.” You try and barter with her bitchiness. But when has that ever really worked for you?

Eddie turns his head sideways back towards you. Content to ignore her insults. You can see the glint of mischief sparked to light in his eyes. Shaded under the brim of his hair.

God, you like him so much. How do more people not like him?

“Why did you let wannabe Ted Bundy drive you home?” Linda demands off you. Holding up a hand to block his face from her sight. Excluding him.

Her memory surely can’t be that short.

“You were otherwise busy being Linda Lovelace upstairs.” You shoot her a look. Your finest and sharpest. She clams up. Thank god.

Eddie smiles. Impressed with your bluntness.

“You were right. Maybe this place isn’t my kinda scene.” He insists.

You chuckle. “Hey. No fun in warning ya.” You throw at him. He smiles at your challenge.

“Ruthless. It’s kinda hot, actually.” He purrs at you. Definite flirting happening that time.

Linda scoffs and lays back down. Though you’ve a feeling she’s watching you guys closely through her fake ray bans.

“Ignore her. She likes it. She’s just crabby cause she’s on a diet.” You tell him.

The way he had to bite his tongue to fight off a comeback has you sharing a knowing look.

She flips you both the bird. Pink nail polish glinting at you. Rattling those bangles on her wrists again.

“I actually, uh, needed your advice with something, Pencils.” He speaks up. Standing up straight and sways around to lob the last of his apple into the garbage can behind you. It bounces off the wall and clunks to the trash. Jackpot.

“I need some new tapes. Maybe even some vinyl. Was gonna swing by the record store at some point. Y’know but I just couldn’t decide what night I should go...I’m thinking maybe Tuesday or Thursday…?”

He’s fidgeting. Twirling hair around the skull ring on his finger. Dragging it in front of his mouth.

He’s asking when you’ll next be at work.

You have the wild urge to kiss him again. Taste that apple tang, no doubt mingled with cigarettes, off his lips. Yank him in by a fistful of his Hellfire shirt. Have him press you up against the edge of this table. Haul him in by that guitar pick chain if you had too.

Who the fuck cares if the whole school sees you lock lips with him. You just wanna kiss him. Like, a lot. A ridiculous, unhealthy amount.

“I mean, both are solid choices. But… personally speaking… I’d go for Tuesday. New stock delivery after three. Open til late.” You smile. Hooking your hands in your back blue jean pockets.

Message received loud and clear; See you then.

He grins. “Perfect.”

You think you’ve just scored a date. Of-sorts.

You smile. The more you talk to him, the more you keep wanting to just gravitate to this funky beautiful guy.

Linda’s looking at you like she can’t believe what the actual hell is going on. The clanging school bell peels out the end of lunch and people start drifting away for the next class.

Somehow his palms are itching to feel you again. He’s near you and talking to you and it isn’t enough. It gnaws at him.

He wants to touch your waist, your hair. Stick his face in your neck and see if you still smell as good and fruity-sweet as he remembers. Your scent that had made him swoon. Cup your neck like a sacred chalice. Drink your lips like he needed you to live.

And isn’t that just mad- if only he knew. Just exactly how much of an echo his thoughts had in common with yours.

“Duty calls.” He smiles at you as he half turns away. He gestures to his group.

“Sadly. Welcome to my nightmare.” You admit. Starting to heave up your books and your off shoulder bag. Heavy with textbooks and notebooks. Your Walkman and headphones too. The Clash with Guns of Brixton is your audio sustenance for today. It feeds you better than any dry book.

“Gotta be honest, I don’t see a long future in this-“ He nudges at his chest and points to the school building. Meaning himself and his relationship with grades and graduating. Which was famously one sided.

“Toxic love affair?” You ask.

“Seems to loooovvveee screwing me over.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. Smiles like it’s something out of his hands. A joke at his own clownish expense. He makes you laugh.

“You should find an alternative affair to enjoy.” You tell him. Nodding. “One that likes you back”

“Think that’s what I’m trying to do right now...” He says as he spins away and flits back. Walking backwards. Bandanna swaying at his legs. Flouncing incoordination writ into the rhythms of his steps.

You smile and clutch your books to your chest. Sweaty palms on dry hardbacks. Watching him weave away. In a strange distant way, like faintly dragged paper cuts, it almost aches. Seeing him go.

Linda was sat up, ready to leave and she snaps at him. “Bye?” Like it was painfully obvious.

He clutches a hand over his heart. Pretends to look infatuated. Backing away. “That cuts deep. I know you’ll miss me. Don’t cry too hard now, Barbie.”

Her glare is like something skimmed off a frozen glacier. Packed in bone cutting ice.

He shoots a cool wink at you before he goes. Flicks you a grin as wide as a skull sneer.

You just manage to see him off back to his table of Hellfire clad cohorts. Some of whom seemed very concerned at his absence. You watch his springy walk as he bounces over to them. Manic energy splitting his smile.

Dustin asks him what that was about. Pointing a thumb over his shoulder at you.

Eddie cups his back and says he wouldn’t wish to offend such delicate ears. Pressing a fingertip to Dustin’s nose in a way that made the younger boy screw his face up and wave him away.

He’s crowded with questions and a few curious turns of heads and eyes swim over your direction. You hear him speak to his younglings as he shrugs on the second skin of his jacket and trusty vest. Flips his hair out the collar. His rings flash silver in the blazing sunlight.

“You wouldn’t understand Wheeler. It’s called game, man.” Grinning with his tongue cheekily tipped out between his teeth. Ruffling the kids hair.

Eyes roam to you over the crowds rudely cutting between you both.

Eddie’s expression flashed across at you, and it was so sincere it made your breath catch. He smiles again and you can’t wait. Tomorrow night cannot come to you fast enough.

The rattle of bangles is sharp and sudden to your left. A firm nailed hand grabs your elbow. Poison perfume and rave spray floods your nose. Linda reels you in.

“What the fuck? Why the hell does fucking freak Munson have your phone number written on his arm?”

Oh. You just smile and smile.

 ~

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