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@kanima-claws (from Asher)
“You seriously think football’s a joke? You know it’s the top priority sport at most high schools and colleges in America, right? I mean, not like I’m making that up. You try talking to someone about football, they get it, you mention lacrosse, you see the question marks start popping up. If anything is a joke, it’s gotta be lacrosse.”
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@kanima-claws
[text] JACKSOOOOOOOON!
@kanima-claws cont
Yeah, because asking Derek Hale to turn you is real fuckin’ smart, dude, PJ thinks, with his eyebrows raised at Jackson. He’s friends with most of Scott’s friends, and dating Scott, and when you’re an observant vampire who knows more than he should, it’s easy to figure out what the lacrosse player is talking about.
“By my count, you broke up with Lydia in like, September. It’s December, dude,” he points out, shoving his hands into the hoodie he stole from Scott months ago. “Unless you’re planning on dating someone’s mom, I don’t think anyone wants to date you.”
@kanima-claws cont
[text] the funny thing is...
[text] you always say that and you always wait
[text] I'll be ready in 15
[text] xxx
@kanima-claws gets a starter cause I feel like it
[text] hey, J
[text] u stull awak?
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Since @kanima-claws don't have their submit open 😒
The square box is wrapped nicely, a small bow on top of it, and no one ever had to find it out that it took Erica five tries to get the goddamn paper perfectly around the box
With a soft smile, she handed the present to Jackson, tilting her head.
"I saw this, and immediately thought of you, and I figured it was the perfect present. Because you'll always be the Peter to my Wendy. Happy holidays, Jacks."
[text]: two words: fractured penis. two more: emergency room. (Ya boy Jackson pls)
TFLN / @kanima-claws / accepting
[text] two words: Lydia Martin
[text] why the hell are you even texting me about your dick?\
[text] I mean, I’m sad to hear about lil’ Jackson’s injury but…?
[text] want me to set up a memorial service or something?
@kanima-claws [x]
It had been the perfect.. date? Jackson had taken her to her favorite restaurant, which in itself wasn’t all that strange. That was something he did when she’d had a shitty day, and tonight was nothing different. What was different was the fact that he took her to the look out on the outskirts of the preserve afterwards. He’d driven his dad’s truck, and they laid in the back, watching the stars and twinkling lights, holding her hand as they did. And Erica couldn’t tell you where the air changed, but at some point they ended up kissing and didn’t stop.
Fast forward to where she woke up, in bed alone, dressed in nothing but Jackson’s jersey and sore in all the right places. A soft, lazy smile touched her lips as her mind took her back to what had happened. Rolling over, she found the rest of the bed empty, but still warm, meaning that he hadn’t gotten up too long ago, and with a wince, she slung her legs over the edge of the bed, her muscles protesting as she rose to her feet, and shuffled to the door. On the way there she passed Jack’s drawers, and her head was clear enough to snatch a pair of boxers out of the top one to put on under the shirt she was wearing.
Rubbing her eyes, and opened the door, and stopped dead in her tracks.
Why was Greenberg here? What business did he have to do with Jackson, at this time of the night? But then the words reached her ears, and it took a while from them to register. Earned what?
Her eyes, now wide and alert, went from one lacrosse player to the other, her hand tightening around the doorknob until her knuckles were white.
“Jackson?”
