And You

Why doesn't anyone see me?

Warnings before you start There are disturbing elements, self-harm, eating disorders, and implicit mentions of harassment.

The grand hallways of Wayne Manor looked magnificent from the outside, but to you, they were nothing more than cold stone. You were sixteen, and in this house, in this family, you had always been just a shadow. The man you called your father — Bruce Wayne — had left you to drown in his darkness. The marks on your body, on your arms, back, legs... each was a silent scream. Each one reminded you how a world you once trusted had torn you apart. And the worst part? The one who did this wasn’t a stranger. It was someone who had existed in the background of your life, like a ghost.

You tried to speak up once. That night, you opened the door to his study. Bruce sat at his desk, surrounded by files and glowing monitors. His Batman suit hung in the corner — as if that costume was his real face.

“Dad,” you said, your voice trembling. “I need to talk.”

He looked up, his blue eyes tired, distant. “What is it?” he asked, but there was no real curiosity in his tone.

You took a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in your chest. “I... Something happened. A while ago. And it still…” The words got stuck in your throat. You didn’t want to show him the scars — but maybe, just maybe, he would understand. Maybe he’d see you.

But Bruce lowered his head back to his files. “Now’s not the time,” he said, voice flat. “A lot’s going on in the city. We’ll talk later.”

Later. Always later.

You closed the door behind you, and tears began to slide down your cheeks. Batman could save Gotham — but he didn’t even try to save you.

The next day, you turned to Jason. The rebel of the family, a soul forged in his own pain. Maybe he’d understand.

You found him in the garage, working on his motorcycle.

“Jason,” you said, stepping closer. “I need to ask you something.”

He looked at you, wiping his hands with a grease-stained rag. “What do you want, princess?” he said with a mocking lilt.

You swallowed hard, gathering your courage. “Something happened to me. Something bad. And no one’s listening. I have scars—here,” you said, pulling up your sleeve slightly to show a faded mark.

Jason fell silent for a moment — then laughed.

“Everyone’s got issues, little lady. Go outside, see what I’ve seen. Then come back and cry.”

His words hit like a blade.

“But this is serious!” you cried, your voice cracking.

“Serious?” he snapped, standing and getting close. “You mean your little princess trauma? Grow up.”

Under his sneer, you felt yourself shrink. He didn’t see you either. He left you, too.

You decided to try Damian. Despite his young age, he had a sharp mind. Maybe he had noticed something.

You found him in the training room, practicing with a sword.

“Damian,” you said from the doorway. “Do you have a minute?”

He turned to you, green eyes cold and calculating.

“What do you want?” he asked, stabbing the blade into the floor.

“I… Something happened to me. And it’s hard to carry,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

He frowned, then smirked. “You’re weak,” he said, flatly.

“What?” was all you could manage.

“If you can’t carry it, then you don’t belong in this family. I know pain — but all you do is complain.”

His words were poison. His scorn felt worse than Jason’s mockery. Because Damian saw you as a burden. And in that moment, you felt the final thread tying you to this family snap.

You found Tim in the library, headphones in, eyes on his laptop.

“Tim,” you said, sitting beside him.

He pulled out one earbud. “Yeah?” he replied, eyes still on the screen.

“I need to ask you something. It’s important.”

“One sec, let me finish this line of code,” he mumbled.

Minutes passed. You sat there, waiting.

Eventually, he said, “Just tell me later,” and put his headphones back in.

He hadn’t even heard you.

Dick seemed different — or so you thought.

You found him in the lounge, laughing, mid-conversation.

“Dick, can we talk?” you asked, voice faint.

He turned to you with his bright smile. “Of course, little one! What’s up?”

But before you could say more than “I…” his phone rang.

“Hold that thought — I gotta take this,” he said, walking away.

He never came back.

That night, in your room, you stood before the mirror. You looked at the scars — each one a story no one wanted to hear. Tears wouldn’t stop. This house, this family, was a prison. Bruce didn’t see you. Jason mocked you. Damian belittled you. Tim and Dick didn’t even notice you were there. You might have been Batman’s daughter, but in this place, you were nothing.

You walked to the window and looked out at the lights of Gotham. Maybe it was time to leave. Maybe you couldn’t escape your family, but you could escape this silence. You packed a small bag — a hoodie, some money, a long-sleeve shirt to cover the marks. At the door, you paused. Maybe someone would notice. Maybe someone would stop you.

But the hallway was quiet. No one came.

As you stepped into the street, the cold air slapped your face. Were you free? Or just stepping into a different kind of shadow? You didn’t know. But at least now… now, you were trying to find your own voice.

Gotham’s streets swallowed you whole. You had escaped Wayne Manor, but the darkness inside you came along for the ride. What you thought was freedom was just another kind of prison — this time, one built within your own mind. With your bag slung over your shoulder, you walked under the flickering streetlights. The cold concrete beneath your feet was a warning: No one here is coming to save you. But you weren’t expecting to be saved anyway. Your family had never seen you; maybe you really were invisible.

Days passed. You holed up in a cheap motel, using the credit card your father once gave you. You knew the money would run out — but you didn’t care. Under the dim lights of the room, you stared into the mirror. The scars were still there — on your arms, your back, your legs. Each one whispered that you were something filthy, something ruined. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms.

“Why me?” you murmured.

No answer.

The reflection staring back filled you with disgust. This body, these scars… it was all your fault, wasn’t it? If you had been stronger, if you had spoken louder, maybe your family would have heard you. But you hadn’t. You were weak. Damian was right.

---________________________________________---

Days blurred into weeks. Gotham’s gray sky felt like a mirror to your soul. In the motel’s small bathroom, you sat with a cheap razor in your hand. You stared at your scars… and added new ones. Thin lines of blood appeared — but they didn’t bring relief. Pain couldn’t fill the emptiness. Every cut echoed the rejection you’d endured. Bruce’s cold “Not now.” Jason’s mocking laugh. Damian’s “You’re weak.” Tim and Dick’s silence. It all etched itself into your skin.

Every time you looked in the mirror, the hate grew.

“This is my fault,” you whispered.

Your eyes were swollen. Hair tangled. You’d stopped eating — your stomach turned at the thought of food. Sleep brought nightmares. Again and again, you relived the trauma — shadows, hands, the silence of your unheard screams.

When you woke, clutching your pillow, all you felt was emptiness.

Your family hadn’t called. Maybe they didn’t notice. Maybe they didn’t care.

Batman saved Gotham.

But not his own daughter.

Depression wrapped itself around you like a blanket — cold and heavy. Hurting yourself became a routine. Your arms were covered in cuts, but even that wasn’t enough.

“I’m worthless,” you said one night, your voice breaking.

“No one wants me. Not even me.”

You punched the mirror. Glass cracked. Your knuckles bled.

Still, you felt nothing.

Then, one day, everything stopped.

You lay on the stained motel bed, razor in hand again. Sirens wailed outside, but your world was quiet. You looked at your scars one last time.

“It’s over,” you said.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Tears slid down your cheeks as you thought of your family — Bruce buried in files, Jason fixing his bike, Damian swinging a sword, Tim staring into his screen, Dick laughing…

None of them had seen you.

None of them had heard you.

This time, you used the blade one last time.

There would be no coming back.

The blood soaked the sheets — slow and silent.

You stared at the ceiling. Through the window, Gotham’s gray sky watched over you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure to whom.

Your breathing slowed.

Darkness closed in.

The sirens faded.

Bruce Wayne’s daughter vanished into the shadows.

---________________________________________---

The next day, the motel worker knocked, but there was no answer.

They opened the door — and found you.

The police report was brief:

“Female, aged …, suicide.”

When the call reached Wayne Manor, Bruce finally put his files down.

Jason went quiet.

Damian dropped his sword.

Tim turned off his screen.

Dick’s smile faded.

But it was too late.

They hadn’t seen you.

They hadn’t heard you.

And now… they never would.

---________________________________________---

I was debating on making a second part to this but I think now is a good time.

As you fell to your knees, barely on the brink of consciousness, the loss of blood rushed out of you and leaving your nerves to give out. Hands pathetically on your wound as if it could stop the flow. For you final vision - what of left you can see are blurry sights of the family you've grown to forever resent reaching Damian first before giving an afterthought to your dying body.

You wish you could've seen their faces when their gaze directed to your form but alas only the blur overcomes your sight. Leaving the last chuckle out of your as blood splurts out of your mouth, you've taken your last laugh.

Oh but the family couldn't handle it. Only after your death had they taken to initiative to even feel the guilt rising. The audacity of they who should've known better.

Dick 'Richard' Grayson, The Eldest of The Bunch. Stared in horror at your slumped body, his own frozen and hesitant even if he has seen bodies before - this time it's different. It's You who's dying or worse yet — dying. His sibling that he's not even worthy of calling them that, has died. His thoughts snapped out of it after dismantling the weapon away from Damian with others and immediately came rushing next to your lifeless body. Water dripped down on you, has he been crying? How could he not have noticed like how could he have not noticed you all along?

Jason Todd, The Second and The One Death Once Claimed. He was approachable at first, violent yet sweet and trusting. Those eyes that used to look at You with endearment then icy now looks at you with grief. He oh so badly wanted to claw at the floor but he can't move. Even when you've fallen limp and everyone else rushed to you side, he took a step back. He may be strong once but now he's weak.

Tim Drake, The Third Of Them Who's An Exhausted Genius. This is not part of expected variables that could happen. Pathetic isn't he? Still thinking of You as aere problem. He begs over and over that maybe it didn't hit anything vital but when you've fallen and blood continues gushing, he could only stare. When Dick rushed over, he follows with a slight trip because what else can he do? He's a genius yes but he doesn't - can't bring you back alive.

Damian Thomas Wayne, The Violent Youngest Raised By The Strongest. He stumbles. He is acting strange. How unlike his nature but he trip backwards, still holding onto the bloody weapon that has graced upon You. When he reluctantly glanced at his weapon, immediately it was dropped as if it was on fire. Weapon out of his hands by forced from others. Why is he acting Ike this? He should be proud, he should be happy but this? This feeling? It's a feeling that he wants to desperately scratch off his skin as it is beneath it.

Finally, Bruce Thomas Wayne. The One Who Hovers Over Them All. He failed. He wouldn't expected this. You weren't supposed to be in front of him bleeding. It was as if you two were the only ones in the dark and he wouldn't even as much as reach a hand out hesitantly. He's not worthy of taking care of you and it was proven to him with blood splatters on the silver tray. Out of everyone in this family he had created, little old you was someone he should've keep a closer on. A lot of his thoughts gone haywire and doubts use to crawl up his shoulder when he saw you to the point his reasoning has long gone past within reason.

Now the family had truly destroyed what's left of you they've known alive.

Now the family has directed their thoughts and eyes on you.

Now even in death, they know to not truly let you go for they have to try for another chance.

Masterlist

Order Up!

Commissions are: OPEN

🛎️ if you'd like to make a request, please ask here!

all pairings and situations are accepted, though i reserve the right to deny a request if a) i can't do it justice or, b) it doesn't align with what i'm comfortable writing.

pairings so far include: Wally Clark x fem!reader | Wally Clark x male!reader | Simon Elroy x fem!reader | Wally Clark x Dawn Burton |

overview: a collection of School Spirits requests/prompts that vary in subject and rating. please refer to in-story summaries for more information. overarching trope and rating are indicated beside each link.

below is the complete list of requests under Order Up!. you can also find all related content HERE as well as reformatted chapters on AO3.

~ 💚👻

📍WALLY CLARK:

Fifty Seven - fluff - PG | It's Just Biology, Wally - Wally Clark x Dawn - smut lite - M | Marshmallow Miles - smut lite/fluff - M | Best Friends Club - fluff/smut - M | Boy Noise - sub!Wally Clark - smut - E | Simp. - sub!Wally Clark - smut - E | Wally Clark Headcanons - 3 - fluff - G | Anxiety - sub!Wally Clark - smut - M | Wreck It Like A Rumor - angst/smut - M | Anxiety 2 - sub!Wally Clark - fluff/smut lite - M | Punctuation. - PG | Hot For You - smut - E | Hurt You, Heal You - hurt/comfort lite - G | Crush - smut/fluff - M | Silly Boy - male!reader - smut - M | Control Freak - sub!Wally Clark - smut - M | Intimacy with Strangers - smut - M | Transcendental - fluff - PG |

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📍SIMON ELROY:

Boyfriend Simon Elroy (NSFW) - smut - M |

Being the “it” couple with Jackie Taylor

warnings ! Way too short I wish I could add more for y’all

Pairing ! Jackie Taylor x gn!reader

• Everybody at the school envy you both, they can’t decide if they want you two or be you two. You two have it all.

• when you first got together, everyone was talking about it, not even really believing the rumors at first until they saw you two together in the halls.

• you two are ALWAYS together, you and Jackie are inseparable, always walking hand in hand and always sitting next to each other in shared classes and the cafeteria.

• you always go to her games and cheer her on and she’s always at your games if you play sports or concerts if your in any music activities!

• your relationship isn’t even for show either. you two generally love each other and want to be together. not to make others jealous or to make yourselves look good. you both have a bond that no one can break :3

• unfortunately being the popular “it” couple has its cons. rumors are constantly being spread, that one or both of you are cheating on eachother, but you both knew they were just stupid talk in the halls and ignored it.

• she’s insanely protective over you, rumors about just you in general. Rumors only about you, not about your relationship, are always immediately shut down by her and her friends.

First Jackie headcannons

Please give more requests because thinking for stuff is insanely hard for me because I don’t have much creativity :(

Ppl like grumpy x sunshine more than “paint me like one of your French girls” and I mean- if you’re making a series and go for the most votes… can you at least make a one shot on “paint me like one of your French girls”?

Please? For me? 🥺🥺🥺

For the brains behind soul painter?? 👉👈

-🍄🍄🍄

You’d painted before. Hundreds of pieces. Thousands of strokes. But never like this.

She lay there—draped across your studio couch, nude in the golden light, all sharp angles softened by the glow of sunset filtering through the window. A living masterpiece. Every curve a siren’s call.

And still—still—you weren’t looking at her the way a man would. You looked like an artist possessed.

She watched your eyes flick from her hip to her collarbone. Your tongue flicked across your lip as you mixed another color. The veins in your hand flexed as you clenched the brush tighter—focused. Your jaw locked, then twitched.

God, the control in you was intoxicating.

She’d stripped down thinking you’d tease. Maybe flirt. But no.

You were silent.

Worshipping her with the way you looked at her… but not like a lover.

Like an addict.

She shifted, slowly—just enough to make your gaze falter.

It did.

You paused.

Eyes flicked to hers.

“Don’t move,” you said, voice husky, low.

She smirked. “Why not?”

“Because,” you said, eyes dropping back to her form, “this light on your hip—if it slips, I’ll lose it.”

Her brows lifted. “So serious.”

You didn’t reply. Just lifted the brush and went back to it.

She stared at your forearms—taut under the rolled sleeves. At the muscles shifting under your shirt as you painted. At your hands. Those hands.

Veins raised, fingers stained with dried pigment, moving with such control it made her knees press together, even from where she laid.

You didn’t notice.

But then you turned.

And she saw your back.

Shirt pulled tight between your shoulders as you reached for a rag. Muscles dancing as you adjusted your stance. She exhaled hard.

“You’ve been painting me for over an hour,” she said, voice breathy.

You glanced over, surprised by the interruption.

“Is it not working?” you asked.

“No,” she said, sitting up slightly, eyes dark. “It’s working too well.”

You blinked.

She stood, unapologetically nude, walking toward you slowly. “I was trying to be your muse. But I’ve been watching you this whole time, and I realized—”

She touched your chest, eyes raking over your body.

“You’re the art.”

Her hand moved down. Over your abs, slow and reverent. “You don’t even know, do you? The way you look when you’re painting. That jaw. Those back muscles. The veins in your hands—”

She took one in her fingers. Kissed your knuckle.

“—I want them on me.”

You dropped the brush.

And when you kissed her, it wasn’t frantic. It was reverent. Careful. Like she was another canvas and you were building her color by color.

She reached for your shirt, sliding it off slow, dragging her fingers across the grooves in your back like she’d studied them. She kissed each one, from shoulder to spine.

“You gonna finish that painting?” she whispered, breath hot on your skin.

“Later,” you murmured.

Because right now?

You were the brush. She was the canvas. And the art was made in every slow, aching, soul-painted touch. A/N: Fuck you, now I'm horny 4 this man (I meant it as a joke btw)

Surviving The Wilderness

Pairings: yellowjackets x reader

Summary: With how much effort you had put in trying to look after the group as the seasons start to change, you get dubbed the unofficial mom of the team. Find request here.

Winter was on the horizon. Temperatures were starting to drop even further during the night and daylight hours were shortening with each day that had passed. With no foreseeable chance of rescue happening any time soon, the group had to prepare for the oncoming harshness of the next season. 

There was only so much you could do with having very little to begin with but you were trying your best, as was everyone else. At first it was just the menial tasks that you had double downed on, the chores everyone had already been doing in order to get by.

The pile of firewood stood tall and proud in the attic of the cabin. You had buddied yourself up with Tai to collect as much dry wood as the two of you could. There wasn’t a shortage of wood out in the wilderness but it would mean spending less time out in the cold for necessities when it came to it.

You had also started out marking out all of the spots for potential food. Colder temperatures didn’t immediately mean there’d be nothing available to eat, or at least you hoped, but you figured knowing where food could grow would be important for when it became a scarcity. You weren't sure what you were going to do if the snow rolled in early but you didn’t like thinking about that. 

You had paired yourself up with Misty for your impromptu foraging trip. The girl knew an uncanny amount of facts about mushrooms and berry bushes, the whole sorts. While you were out there, you used a copy of one of Natalies maps she had made while out hunting to mark off all the potential spots for food. The two of you also took the chance to gather what you could to add to the rations. Food was the main concern for everyone at the moment. 

Misty had talked your ear off the entire day. She was probably excited that someone had actually sought out her company. It was rather endearing when she got excited by the sight of a specific mushroom and how serious she would suddenly turn when warning you not to touch a specific plant you’d stumble across. 

While you had entertained her rambles and managed to learn a thing or two about how to spot a poison berry from a safe one, you didn’t know how to keep up with all her energy. You were kind of thankful for the quietness of the cabin that night.

Preparations for winter weren’t the only thing on your mind. You liked keeping up the morale of the team, being a shoulder to lean on for anyone who needed it, or a person to confide in. It brought a smile to your own face when you managed to make one of your friends smile. It was what you were there for. 

Jackie had pulled you aside from the campfire you were all perched around outside, telling you she needed to talk to you about something important. You were in the middle of learning how to whittle with a few of the other girls but a small break wouldn’t hurt anyone, you’d catch back up when you got back. 

“You’ve really stepped up out here.” Jackie was proud of the efforts you had put in, you were holding up surprisingly well. “Thank you for being the leader I couldn’t be.”

Jackie had especially seemed to be struggling with the adjustment of being stranded out in the wilderness. You couldn’t see it at first, not when she was the most hopeful about getting rescued, doing the most she could to keep her team up and going but the longer she stayed out here, the more that sparked dampened. 

As much as her comment made you proud of your own achievements, it also struck a chord within you. 

“Hey, it’s not easy out here but you’re trying your best and that's what matters, right?” You offered her a reassuring smile. You couldn’t blame her for not adjusting so quickly. The chain of jarring events you had all been through over the past few weeks wasn’t easy to get over.

“It feels like I'm losing my mind out here.” Jackie tried to crack a smile but you could tell it was forced. 

“You’re not the only one going a little crazy out here, you don’t have to cope through this alone.” You reached out to her and enveloped her in a comforting embrace that she immediately leaned into. You hoped she’d remember that. She never had to do anything alone. You were still a team.

The two of you stayed like that for an extended moment. You felt like she needed this so you weren’t going to pull back until she did.

“You’re a really great friend.” Jackie mumbled into your shoulder.

“I’ve got your back, alright? We’ll get through it. All of us will.” Even if it wasn’t easy.

The stillness of the cabin after sundown was always something that unnerved you for some reason. You didn’t like prolonged moments of silence but sometimes everyone was too exhausted after a long day and they didn’t have the energy to keep themselves entertained. 

The first time you had brought up the idea of telling each other stories at night, it wasn’t so well received but you were determined to provide some sort of entertainment.

“Bedtime stories? Seriously? What are you, my mom?” Taissa  mocked.

“Your mom still reads you bedtime stories?” Van jestered.

“Shut up.” Taissa rolled her eyes at Van's joke. That wasn’t what she meant.

“It doesn’t have to be some fairytale woe it can be about anything. Have some fun making up your own world or something.” You tried reasoning with them, seeing the potential in the fun that could come from such a thing. You didn’t see the harm in indulging in your creative sides again, even for something a little silly and childish. It’d let you be teenagers again and not just survivors.

“I think I’ve got something.” The look on Van’s face had Taissa groaning and that could only mean one thing. Whatever the girl had in mind was going to be the most ridiculous and therefore amusing story you would ever hear. 

Since then, storytelling with Van every other night or so practically became a nighttime routine. Sometimes it was the smaller things that counted, the silly things that kept everyone looking forward. Everyone would huddle around the fireplace wrapped up in their blankets while you and Van sat on your chairs telling stories, some a little spooky the others pure comedy gold.

The days were only becoming shorter as each one had passed. The looming threat of winter hanging over you all but you were keen on making it your job to make sure each and every one of your teammates would make it through the next season. You’d be there for them every step of the way, no matter what they needed.

Supplying everyone with proper winter attire was next up on your agenda. You had become everyone's self appointed tailor so to speak. There was a spare suitcase in the makeshift pantry room of the cabin where everyone had spared a few things for anyone to take for grabs. You picked off a few stray buttons from the case and a small selection of spare material from clothing, making sure to leave plenty left for anyone else too.

Everyone had their own clothes they could layer themselves up in when it came to that so luckily you didn’t have to worry too much about that. If you had to, you’d remind anyone who was going outside for a prolonged period to remember to take a headscarf with them. 

You had done your best sewing a couple of pairs of gloves, especially for Natalie and Travis who were going to be out in the cold the most as they were the appointed hunters of the group. With what you had, you managed to make a few pairs and one of them was even an adjustable size by threading the button that held the pieces together through a different hole of the three you had poked through. That way everyone would have something that fit them.

You hoped the pair you made for Travis was the right size, you couldn’t exactly use your own measurements from your hands for his gloves. “Try these on for me?” He was surprised when you had approached him, offering up the items of clothing to him.

“What are these for?” Despite his question, he took the gloves from your hand.

“For when you go hunting with Nat.” You explained like it was obvious. “You two are outside the most out of all of us so I figured I should make sure you at least stay warm out there.”

They probably had one of the most important jobs, keeping everyone fed. You couldn't afford them falling ill or anything like that. You noticed that they had already been waking up earlier to get out in the early morning and while you wanted to applaud their efforts in feeding the group, it did worry you a little that they were sacrificing so much rest and walking about in the dark so you figured you'd look after them the only way you knew how.

“Yeah, I'll be using these. Thanks.” Luckily the gloves fit him pretty well as he wiggled his fingers around to test the amount of movement he had in them.

“Stay safe out there.” You nodded curtly with a proud smile on your face, happy that the gift turned out well.

It was when Natalie and Travis kept coming back from their hunting trips empty handed more and more often that you really kicked into gear. Things started to feel a little more real to you then, like there really was something to worry about or fuss over. Being cold and bored was one thing but starving out here was another. You had to find a way to keep everyone well nourished.

In order to do that, tea had become the next thing you tried to master. Everyone liked tea, right? It may not have been the most filling thing but with the right ingredients it would have a good amount of the necessary nutrients to keep you going. Plus it didn't take too many resources to make which made it accessible to drink daily.

This was the third evening you had gone around the group offering up your cups of tea. The one you had made this time was tinted with mixed berries seeing as Misty had gone to you with what was left over. She didn’t want them to go to waste and they couldn’t be stored away for much longer or else they’d go off so she figured you could make use of them.

“Didn’t take you for such a tea connoisseur.” Shauna teased, then getting nudged in the side by Jackie who mumbled something about how you were just being nice. 

Making tea was something new to you and not every pot came out perfect but oddly enough you enjoyed making a new batch every time.

“Here, Nat, you’re shivering.” You offered up a fresh cup of hot berry tea to her, knowing it could help warm her up. 

“It’s fine, really, I’m good.” She held up her hand in a gentle refusal, brushing your offer off but that only made you catch sight of her pink fingertips. She had been out all day with the shotgun, maybe it was already getting colder than you thought.

Despite her words, you pushed the cup into her open hand and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief at the warmth it brought to her cold hand. Maybe your offer wasn’t such a bad one after all. You smiled triumphantly when she took the mug from you and started sipping away at the drink.

“Wait there a moment.” There wasn’t much reason for Nat to be going anywhere now that she had the chance to relax but you wanted to make sure she stayed put. Seconds later you came back with one of the blankets and you draped it over her shoulders for her, making sure it stayed in place over her body to preserve as much heat as possible.

“You’re such a mom, y’know that?” Natalie raised an eyebrow at your coddling and your cheeks tinted pink when her comment earned a few chuckles from around the group. That wasn’t the first time you had been compared to a mom by one of the girls, you hoped you weren’t doing too much. 

Ironically, it was one of the moments Nat had felt most cared for, she hardly had a problem with your naturing ways. She didn’t get that sort of treatment back home. 

“Well I’m not letting you freeze to death on me.” You justified your actions sheepishly but the moment Nat sent you a gentle smile, you relaxed. She didn’t actually seem to mind the fact you were fussing over her.

Another day brought another cold night. You had made sure the fireplace was lit up enough to last for as long as it could throughout the night. “Does everyone have enough blankets?” You asked the group before you let yourself settle down in your own makeshift bed. It was better to check before you tucked yourself in.

“Yes mom.” Shauna goaded, earning a huff from you, and a few snickers sounded out throughout the room. The newly appointed nickname was coming up more and more recently.

“Hey! You’ll be thanking me when I save your asses from your reckless selves.” You loved your team, you really did, but some of them really lacked the self preservation that they needed out here and someone needed to take care of them.

Shauna waved off your comment and seeing as no one had complained about being too cold, you let yourself settle down in your own bundle of blankets that was placed next to Lotties. 

“You’re doing a good job at looking after all of them.” Lottie appraised you, having taken note of your continuous efforts. 

“I want to make sure everyone else makes it through this.” You could only hope your actions would pay off. 

“You’re the best mom I could ask for.” Lottie’s smile wasn’t one of mockery, it was of appreciation and you finally found yourself laughing along with the joke. Maybe being the appointed caretaker wasn’t so bad.

ALWAYS, FOREVER :: JACKIE TAYLOR

⏝ི ✿ 𝓢𝗬𝗡. a tender chronicle of two souls intertwined through secret languages and stolen kisses, as they shatter beneath society's frost only to thaw into truth under courage's warm light.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

[cw.] — a narrative shaped by Spring Into Summer by lizzy mcalpine; an au where the crash never occurred. jackie, constrained by compulsory heteronormativity, navigates the complexities of longing and self-discovery in 1996’s quiet ache.

jackie taylor was born in december, a winter child with snowflakes in her hair and frost on her eyelashes. you could see it in her eyes—hazelnut blonde, wide and unblinking, framed with lashes so thick they cast shadows on her cheeks—the innate understanding that beauty was both weapon and armor. she resembled a wide-eyed doll come to life, porcelain-perfect and untouchable, a girl who learned early how to smile just right, how to laugh at jokes that weren't funny, how to hold herself with the straight-backed posture of someone who knew she was being watched.

you were born in april, a spring child with pollen dusting your shoulders and petals unfurling in your lungs. your curls were the color of soil after rain, rich and earthy, framing a face that was all soft planes and curious eyes. you had lips that naturally pouted, as if perpetually on the verge of asking another question. while jackie stood straight, you moved like water finding its way downhill, following currents invisible to others, bending but never breaking.

the first time you met, you were both four years old, playing in a sandbox that was really just a glorified cat litter box behind wiskayok elementary's pre-k building. jackie had a plastic shovel and a determination to build the perfect castle. you had nothing but your hands and an imagination that transformed each grain of sand into universes.

"you're doing it wrong," jackie said, watching you pat formless mounds with your palms.

you looked up, squinting against the late summer sun, and replied, "there's no wrong way to play."

jackie considered this with the serious expression of a child contemplating philosophy for the first time. then she handed you her extra bucket.

"here. now you can make towers."

instead, you filled the bucket with dandelions and placed it atop her meticulous castle like a crown.

that was how it began—the bunny and the doe, an unlikely pair bound by the mysterious gravity that draws children together before they learn to question why they like who they like.

⚘

in the arithmetic of childhood friendships, you and jackie defied every equation. she was all clean lines and planned adventures; you were smudged margins and spontaneous detours. she collected friends like trading cards, carefully arranged and displayed; you collected stories and kept them pressed between the pages of your mind like wildflowers.

jackie's house was a showcase of suburban aspiration—gleaming hardwood floors that her mother polished every sunday, furniture arranged at perfect right angles, family photos in matched frames documenting their collective perfection. the refrigerator door was a museum of accomplishments; jackie's straight-A report cards, certificates of achievement, newspaper clippings of her youth soccer victories.

your house was a labyrinth of books—stacked on stairs, teetering on tables, forming makeshift furniture of their own. your father, an english professor, believed in the sanctity of the written word; your mother, a nurse with the soul of a poet, believed in the healing power of stories. they gave you a childhood scripted by dickens and alcott and austen, letting you run wild through fictional worlds when the real one seemed too constrained.

in jackie's bedroom, everything had its place. trophies on shelves, stuffed animals arranged by size, clothes sorted by color and season. you spent countless afternoons lying on her pink carpet, watching her organize her life into perfect compartments while you read aloud from whatever book had captured your imagination that week.

"don't you ever get bored?" jackie asked once, sitting at her vanity, practicing french braids on her own hair. "reading about other people's lives instead of living your own?"

you looked up from your dog-eared copy of "anne of green gables" and said, "i'm not reading about other people's lives. i'm living a thousand lives in addition to my own."

jackie's expression flickered between confusion and fascination. "i don't think i could ever be like you," she said finally.

"why would you want to be?" you asked. "i already have me. the world needs you to be jackie."

she smiled at that, a rare genuine smile that reached her bunny eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. "you're so weird," she said, but she said it like it was a compliment.

in your room, books formed a fortress around your bed. posters of the cranberries and your favorite french movies covered the walls. your dresser was a archaeological dig of half-finished stories written in notebooks, fragments of poems on loose paper, quotes copied from favorite books onto index cards.

"how do you find anything in here?" jackie would ask, perched primly on the edge of your unmade bed, afraid to disturb the creative chaos.

"i don't find things," you'd reply. "things find me when i need them."

she'd roll her eyes but submit to the ritual of lying beside you on the floor, heads close together, while you pointed out shapes in the textured ceiling and spun stories about cloud kingdoms and star wars, years before either of you had heard of george lucas.

between your houses lay wiskayok itself—a town too small to hide in but too big to truly know everyone. you navigated its streets like parallel rivers, sometimes converging, sometimes diverging, but always flowing toward some shared, unnamed sea.

the summer before sixth grade was the summer of secret languages. twelve years old, teetering on the precipice between childhood and something more complex, you and jackie created ways to communicate that no one else could understand.

it began with a simple code—replacing letters with numbers, leaving notes in each other's lockers, giggling when others couldn't decipher them. then came the elaborate hand signals, each flick of a wrist or tap of fingers conveying entire sentences. by july, you had developed an entire vocabulary of facial expressions, able to conduct silent conversations across crowded rooms.

it was also the summer jackie's body began its betrayal, developing before yours in ways that drew new kinds of attention. boys who had pulled her hair in fourth grade now found reasons to stand close to her, to brush against her in hallways. girls who had been friendly rivals now measured themselves against her, finding themselves wanting.

you watched this metamorphosis with a scientist's curiosity and a poet's heart, cataloging the changes in your best friend like phases of the moon. the way she started wearing her hair down instead of in the practical ponytail of her soccer-playing days. the careful application of lip gloss where once she'd just slathered on cherry chapstick. the measured pace of her walk, slowed from its former eager bounce to something more deliberate, more aware.

"do you think i'm pretty?" she asked one night, both of you lying on the trampoline in her backyard, the august sky a tapestry of stars above you.

"you know you are," you answered, turning to study her profile in the dim glow of distant porch lights.

"no, but do you think i'm pretty?" her voice had an urgency to it, a need that transcended the typical reassurance-seeking of preteen girls.

you propped yourself up on one elbow, looking down at her face—those wide eyes reflecting pinpricks of starlight, that perfect nose, those lips now slightly parted in anticipation of your answer.

"i think you're the most beautiful thing i've ever seen," you said, the truth spilling out before you could filter it through the appropriate lens of girlhood friendship.

her face changed then, softened and opened like a night-blooming flower. "show me," she whispered.

and there, beneath the indifferent gaze of distant galaxies, you leaned down and pressed your lips to hers in a kiss that lasted three heartbeats—one for courage, one for discovery, one for a revelation neither of you was ready to name.

when you pulled away, jackie's eyes remained closed for a moment longer, her lashes dark crescents against her cheeks. when she opened them, there was a new language being born between you, one with no words or gestures, one written in quickened pulses and hitched breaths.

"we should practice," she said finally, pragmatic even in this uncharted territory. "for when we kiss boys."

"for boys," you agreed, though even then, you knew no boy's lips would ever fit against yours the way jackie's did.

that became another secret language—kisses stolen in the shadows of her basement during movie nights, in the back corner of the library behind the reference section, in the equipment shed after soccer practice when everyone else had gone home. always under the guise of "practice," always followed by giggles and performance reviews, as if you were merely rehearsing for some future that required this skill.

by the time school started again, you had become fluent in each other, able to translate the slightest change in breathing, the smallest shift in posture. it was a dictionary written in skin and breath, a grammar of touch and taste.

a language destined to become a dead one far sooner than either of you could have imagined.

⚘

eighth grade arrived with the subtle seismic shifts of tectonic plates—imperceptible to most, but you felt the tremors beneath your feet. jackie joined the advanced soccer team, began spending weekends at tournaments in neighboring towns. you joined the literary magazine, disappearing into the cocoon of the newspaper office during lunch periods.

the kisses became less frequent, though more intense when they happened. there was a desperation to them now, as if jackie was trying to memorize the feel of you before something took you away from her.

"jeff sadecki asked me to the harvest dance," she told you one october afternoon. you were lying on your stomachs in her bedroom, algebra homework spread before you, though neither of you had written anything for twenty minutes.

"are you going to go?" you asked, carefully keeping your voice neutral, tracing the edge of your textbook with one finger.

"i think so," she said, watching your finger move. "my mom would literally explode with joy. she's been hinting about me and jeff since his mom and her started that book club."

you nodded, understanding the invisible architecture of expectations that had been built around jackie since birth. good grades. soccer excellence. student council. and now, the perfect boyfriend—handsome enough, smart enough, from the right kind of family. jeff sadecki with his easy smile and varsity jacket already as an eighth grader, being groomed for high school glory just as jackie was.

"he's nice," you offered, because it was true, and because you knew that was what jackie needed to hear.

"yeah," she agreed, not meeting your eyes. "he's nice."

that night, when she kissed you goodbye at your front door—a risky move given the well-lit porch and curtainless windows—there was a finality to it that made your chest ache.

"just because i'm going to the dance with him doesn't mean anything changes with us," she whispered against your lips.

but you were the reader of stories, the one who could see foreshadowing in everyday moments, who understood the inevitable trajectory of narrative arcs. you knew an ending when you tasted one.

"nothing ever stays the same, jackie," you said, pulling back to look into those bunny eyes, now shining with unshed tears. "that's okay. that's how life works."

she shook her head, suddenly fierce. "not us. we're different."

you wanted to believe her. for a moment, standing there with her cold hands framing your face, you almost did.

the fault lines continued to spread throughout that year. jeff became jackie's boyfriend in the official, going-steady sense. you started spending lunches with lottie, who shared your interest in astrology and tarot, and laura lee, whose fervent christianity somehow complemented your more pagan sensibilities rather than clashing with it. different lunch tables became different social circles became different weekend activities.

the last time you and jackie kissed was the night before high school started. she had come to your house, unexpected, climbing the tree outside your window like she used to do in elementary school when her parents were fighting and she needed escape.

"i'm scared," she admitted, sitting cross-legged on your bed, looking smaller than she had in months.

"of high school?" you asked, closing the book you'd been reading.

she shook her head. "of everything. of not being good enough. of being exactly what everyone expects and nothing more. of—" she paused, looking down at her hands. "of how i feel when I'm with you."

the confession hung between you, heavier than any silence you'd shared.

"how do you feel when you're with me?" you asked, though you knew. of course you knew. you felt it too—the rightness, the completion, the sense of coming home that no other friendship or relationship had ever given you.

"like i'm real," she whispered. "like i don't have to pretend."

you moved then, crossing the small distance between you, taking her face in your hands as she had held yours so many times. "you never have to pretend with me."

the kiss that followed was different from all the others—not practice, not play, but promise. a vow written in the press of lips and the tangle of tongues, in the way her hands fisted in your shirt and yours threaded through her hair. you tasted salt and realized she was crying, or maybe you both were, tears mingling in the seam where your mouths met.

when you finally broke apart, breathing hard, foreheads still touching, jackie spoke words that would echo through the empty corridors of your future;

"i can't be this. i'm sorry, but i can't."

"this?" you gestured between you. "you mean being friends?"

"you know that's not what i mean." her voice dropped to a whisper. "the other stuff. it has to stop. it's—it's not right."

the words landed like a slap. "not right?"

"it's disgusting," she said, but her voice wavered on the word, betraying the lie. "i'm with jeff now. i think i love him."

you stepped back as if burned. "you don't mean that."

"i do," she insisted. "we're not kids anymore. it's time to grow up."

high school dawned crisp and clear, a perfect september morning that felt like a mockery of your shattered heart. the hallways of wiskayok high were wider than those of the middle school, the ceilings higher, the social hierarchies more rigidly enforced. by lunchtime on the first day, everyone knew their place—or at least, knew where they were supposed to aspire to sit.

jackie slid effortlessly into her predetermined role; freshman soccer star, girlfriend of sophomore football player jeff sadecki, potential homecoming court material despite her young age. she walked the halls with a confidence that looked genuine to everyone who hadn't spent a decade learning her tells—the slight tension in her shoulders, the too-wide smile, the way she checked her reflection in every available surface.

you found your niche in the spaces between expectations. too smart to be dismissed, too pretty in your unconventional way to be entirely outcast, too unapologetically yourself to be fully embraced by any single clique. you spent your lunch periods in the library or the courtyard with lottie and laura lee, an unlikely trio bound by your shared appreciation for the mysteries that existed just beyond the veil of everyday life.

lottie, with her dark eyes that seemed to see straight through pretense, never asked why you flinched when Jackie and her soccer teammates passed your table. laura lee, whose faith gave her a compassion rare in the gladiatorial arena of high school, simply passed you extra cookies from her immaculately packed lunch on the days when jackie and jeff were particularly demonstrative in the hallways.

you watched from a distance as jackie became more polished, more perfect, more packaged for public consumption. her natural grace on the soccer field translated to a carefully choreographed performance of ideal teenage girlhood off it. by sophomore year, she was captain of the jv team, dating the varsity quarterback, maintaining a gpa that kept her solidly in the top ten percent without threatening the true academic overachievers.

you bloomed differently—unfurling rather than constructing, growing toward whatever light called to you rather than the one you were expected to seek. your essays won state competitions. your poems were published in literary journals that usually only accepted college students' work. a short story you wrote about two childhood friends who communicated through a secret language earned you a summer workshop at the state university, where professors spoke of your voice as "astonishingly mature" and "hauntingly authentic."

for two years, you and jackie enacted an elaborate performance of polite distance. you acknowledged each other with nods in hallways, exchanged bland pleasantries when mutual activities forced interaction. to outsiders, you were former friends who had drifted apart as childhood companions often do. only you knew the truth of what had been lost.

until junior year, when the fault lines that had been dormant suddenly ruptured.

⚘

it happened at shauna shipman's halloween party, one of those high school gatherings that seemed destined for disaster from its conception. parents out of town, a house too nice to risk trashing but too tempting not to use, alcohol flowing freely despite most attendees being years from legal drinking age.

you hadn't planned to go. parties were jackie's domain, not yours. but lottie had insisted, claiming the veil between worlds was thinnest on halloween, and what better place to observe the unmasking of true selves than at a costume party?

so there you were, dressed as ophelia in the depths of her madness—flower crown askew on your curls, vintage nightgown artfully torn and stained with watercolors to suggest river water, eyes dramatically lined to hint at beautiful despair.

"bit on the nose, isn't it?" lottie commented when she picked you up, herself resplendent as some pagan goddess with antlers woven into her dark hair.

"literature is always on the nose," you replied. "that's why it hurts so much."

you didn't plan to stay long—just enough to appease lottie, maybe talk to a few people from your ap literature class who might appreciate your costume's details. what you didn't plan for was jackie, three drinks past her usual limit, dressed as a playboy bunny—an outfit that played up both her soccer-toned body and the nickname you had given her so many years ago.

she saw you from across the room, those wide eyes growing impossibly wider. for a moment, the carefully constructed mask slipped, and you saw your jackie—the girl who had handed you a sand bucket, who had let you read aloud for hours, who had kissed you beneath a canopy of stars.

then jeff's arm slid around her waist, and the mask snapped back into place.

you retreated to the relative quiet of the kitchen, hoping to find water or perhaps even a quieter exit. instead, you found yourself cornered by travis, a quiet boy from your calculus class who had been working up the courage to talk to you for weeks.

"your costume is amazing," he said, sincerity evident in his voice. "you actually look like you stepped out of a pre-raphaelite painting."

you smiled, genuinely surprised by his art history reference. "thank you. i wasn't sure anyone would get it."

"i did a project on millais last year," he explained, then launched into an enthusiastic if slightly nervous discussion of victorian art that was actually interesting enough to distract you from your desire to leave.

you didn't notice jackie watching from the doorway, her bunny ears askew, her eyes narrowed with an emotion too complex to name.

later, you would piece together what happened from fragmented accounts and your own blurred memories; jackie, drunk and emotional, confronting jeff about some perceived slight. jeff, equally intoxicated, saying something careless. jackie, storming off to the bathroom. you, excusing yourself from travis to get some air on the back porch. the paths crossing in the hallway.

"having fun with travis?" jackie's voice had an edge you'd never heard before.

"he's nice," you said, echoing her words about jeff from so long ago.

"nice," she repeated, almost sneering. "is that what you want? nice?"

"what do you think i want, jackie?" the question came out tired rather than confrontational.

she stepped closer, close enough that you could smell the vodka cranberries on her breath, could see the smudge in her otherwise perfect eyeliner. "i think you want what you can't have."

"that's rich, coming from you."

"what is that supposed to mean?"

"it means you're the one who walked away, not me." the words came out sharper than you intended, years of carefully contained hurt suddenly finding release.

jackie's face contorted, a kaleidoscope of emotions shifting too quickly to track. "you think i wanted to? you think i had a choice?"

"we all have choices, jackie. every day."

"easy for you to say." her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "you get to be you. free and artistic and not caring what anyone thinks. i don't have that luxury."

"it's not a luxury. it's courage."

she recoiled as if slapped. "so i'm a coward now?"

"i didn't say that."

"you didn't have to." jackie's eyes filled with tears that she angrily blinked away. "you've always been so fucking superior, haven't you? so sure you know everything about everyone's heart."

"i never claimed to know everything," you said quietly. "just yours."

something broke in her expression then—the final wall crumbling. "you don't, though. you don't know what it's like to feel like you're rotting from the inside out. to know that everything you're supposed to want, everything you've been raised to chase, feels like ash in your mouth compared to—" she stopped abruptly.

"compared to what, jackie?"

"compared to one minute with you," she whispered, defeat and revelation mingling in her voice.

what happened next was inevitable as gravity—her hands finding your face, your bodies colliding against the hallway wall, mouths meeting with the desperate hunger of the long-starved. it was nothing like your childhood kisses, nothing like your tentative teenage explorations. this was excavation, archaeology, mining for something precious thought lost forever.

and like all such desperate digs, it caused a collapse.

"what the fuck?"

jeff's voice shattered the moment. you broke apart to find him standing at the end of the hallway, face twisted in confusion and dawning anger. behind him, a small crowd had gathered, drawn by the promise of drama.

jackie froze, her face draining of color. you watched as her eyes darted from jeff to the onlookers, saw the exact moment when panic overtook every other emotion.

"it's not—she just—i was trying to get her off me," jackie stammered, stepping away from you as if burned.

the words hit like physical blows. you stared at her, unable to process this ultimate betrayal.

"jesus, i always knew there was something weird about her," someone in the crowd murmured.

"fucking dyke," someone else said, not bothering to lower their voice.

jackie looked at you, naked terror in her eyes. "i'm sorry," she mouthed silently.

but you were already moving, pushing through the crowd, ignoring the taunts and whispers, running from the house with flower petals from your crown scattering behind you like ophelia's sanity breaking apart on the current.

the aftermath was as brutal as high school could make it. for you, at least. somehow, jackie emerged relatively unscathed—the popular girl who had been accosted by her strange former friend, the victim rather than the participant. jeff, after initial anger, took her back. her soccer teammates closed ranks around her. the story morphed in the retelling until you were the predator, she the innocent prey.

lottie and laura lee stood by you, fierce in their loyalty. travis, surprisingly, became another ally, walking you to classes when the whispers grew too loud, sharing his notes on days when you couldn't face the hallways. but high school was still high school, and the weight of being suddenly, unwillingly visible was suffocating.

winter came early that year, november bringing snow that usually waited until december. you watched it fall from the window of your bedroom, wondering if the universe was mocking you with its metaphors—jackie's season descending before its time, burying the world in cold silence.

you didn't see her outside of classes you couldn't avoid. she kept her eyes down when forced into proximity, her face a mask of practiced indifference. only once did you catch her mask slip—in the girls' bathroom during fifth period, when she thought herself alone. you entered silently, saw her gripping the sink, staring at her reflection with such naked self-loathing that you almost went to her, almost reached out.

then she noticed you in the mirror and the mask slammed back into place. she left without washing her hands or saying a word.

december brought holiday preparations and the temporary reprieve of everyone being too busy with exams and family obligations to maintain active torment. you threw yourself into writing, producing a series of poems that your english teacher described as "disturbingly beautiful" and urged you to submit to collegiate competitions.

january crawled by, february a blur of gray skies and slush-covered sidewalks. you survived by disappearing into books, into words, into the worlds you created where endings could be rewritten and love didn't collapse under the weight of expectation.

and then came march, with its false promises of thaw, its teasing glimpses of sun between snow flurries. you were sitting in the library during lunch, lost in sylvia plath's "ariel," when a shadow fell across your page.

"can we talk?"

jackie's voice, so familiar yet strange after months of silence. you looked up to find her standing awkwardly before you, clutching the strap of her backpack like a lifeline.

"i don't think we have anything to say to each other." your voice came out steadier than you felt.

"please." one word, but it contained oceans.

you gathered your books slowly, giving yourself time to rebuild the walls her presence immediately threatened to crumble. "fine. where?"

"the old equipment shed? after school?"

the location choice wasn't lost on you—the site of so many of your secret meetings in earlier days, now abandoned as the school had built newer facilities closer to the main fields.

"i'll be there at 3:30," you said, not looking at her. "i won't wait long."

she nodded and left quickly, as if afraid you might change your mind.

you told yourself you wouldn't go. told yourself it was masochism, not closure. told yourself there was nothing she could say that would matter now.

but at 3:25, you found yourself walking across the still-frozen field toward the shed, your breath clouding before you in the march chill.

jackie was already there, pacing the small interior, her varsity jacket pulled tight against the cold. she stopped when you entered, her eyes wide and uncertain.

"you came," she said, as if she couldn't quite believe it.

"i said i would." you remained near the door, unwilling to step fully into this space so laden with memory.

jackie took a deep breath. "i need to apologize. what i did at the party—throwing you under the bus like that—it was unforgivable."

"yes," you agreed. "it was."

she flinched but continued. "i was scared and drunk and stupid, but that's not an excuse. i've been a coward for years, and that night was just the worst example."

you said nothing, waiting.

"the thing is," she continued when you didn't speak, "i've been thinking a lot about what you said. about choices. about courage." she paced again, unable to stay still under the weight of what she was trying to say. "i don't want to be a coward anymore."

"what does that mean, jackie?" you were tired, suddenly, of riddles and half-truths.

she stopped pacing and looked directly at you for what felt like the first time in years. "it means i'm in love with you. i think i have been since we were kids. and i've been running from it because i thought there was something wrong with me for feeling that way."

the words hung in the cold air between you, crystallizing like frost.

"you hurt me," you said finally. "not just at the party. every day since eighth grade when you decided i was too dangerous to your perfect life."

"i know." her eyes filled with tears. "and i will regret that for the rest of my life. but i'm here now, telling you the truth, finally. for whatever that's worth."

"and jeff? the soccer team? the perfect jackie taylor life?"

she swallowed hard. "jeff and i broke up last week. the rest... i don't know. i just know i can't keep pretending. it's killing me." she took a tentative step toward you. "i don't expect you to forgive me. i don't expect anything. i just needed you to know that you were right—about me being a coward, about me making choices. i'm trying to make better ones now."

you studied her face, looking for signs of the old jackie—the girl who would say whatever was necessary to maintain appearances, to keep her world spinning on its prescribed axis. but all you saw was raw honesty and fear.

"i don't know what to say," you admitted.

"you don't have to say anything. i just..." she wrapped her arms around herself. "i miss my best friend. i miss the person who knew me better than i knew myself. i miss you."

the simple truth of it cracked something in your carefully maintained armor.

"i've missed you too," you whispered.

jackie's eyes lit with cautious hope. "really?"

"every day."

she took another step toward you, then another, until she was close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes, could smell the familiar scent of her shampoo.

"i can't promise i won't mess up again," she said softly. "i can't promise i'll be brave all the time. but i want to try. with you, if you'll let me."

you reached out slowly, touched her cheek with fingertips that remembered the feel of her skin from years of memorizing it in secret moments.

"i don't need you to be brave all the time," you said. "i just need you to be honest. with yourself, most of all."

she turned her face into your touch, eyes closing briefly. "i can do that."

outside, a tentative sun broke through the clouds, sending shafts of light through the shed's dusty windows. somewhere in the distance, a bird began to sing—the first herald of spring's approach.

"it won't be easy," you warned, thinking of the world waiting beyond this momentary shelter.

jackie opened her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "nothing worth having ever is."

she leaned forward then, hesitant, giving you every chance to pull away. you didn't. when her lips met yours, it felt like recognition, like remembering something essential you had tried to forget.

it felt like spring melting winter, like currents too strong to fight.

it felt, at last, like truth.

⚘

spring came late that year, but when it arrived, it came with a vengeance—green exploding across the landscape, flowers erupting from soil that had seemed dead only weeks before, the world renewing itself with reckless abandon.

you and jackie moved cautiously at first, relearning each other in stolen moments between classes, in weekend hours spent in the sanctuary of your book-filled bedroom, in long walks through forests just beginning to wake from winter's dormancy.

the rest of junior year unfolded in unexpected ways. jackie quit the soccer team, causing a minor scandal that was soon overshadowed by prom drama and graduation preparations for the seniors. she joined the literary magazine staff, revealing a talent for photography that complemented your words in ways that surprised you both. together, you created a series of photo essays that won the publication its first national recognition.

lottie and laura lee welcomed jackie into your lunch table circle with minimal skepticism, though lottie made it clear in her eerily perceptive way that second betrayals would not be tolerated. travis became a friend to you both, his quiet intellect and complete lack of interest in high school politics making him a safe harbor in still-turbulent waters.

there were still whispers, still sidelong glances in hallways. but as spring progressed into summer, as junior year gave way to the promise of senior year and beyond, those voices seemed to matter less and less.

on the last day of school, you and jackie returned to the equipment shed—not out of secrecy now, but out of sentiment. you brought a blanket to spread over the dusty floor, a small basket of strawberries and chocolate, a bottle of sparkling cider smuggled from your parents' fridge.

"do you remember the first time we came here?" jackie asked, lying beside you on the blanket, her fingers intertwined with yours.

"seventh grade," you said. "after you scored the winning goal against westfield. you were so pumped up on adrenaline you practically dragged me in here."

she laughed. "i told you i wanted to show you something important."

"and then you kissed me."

"and then i kissed you," she agreed. "best impulse i ever had."

you turned to look at her, at the face you had loved in so many different ways throughout your shared life. "we took the long way around, didn't we?"

jackie's expression softened. "maybe we needed to. maybe i needed to understand what i'd be missing if i kept making the wrong choices."

"and now?"

"now i know." she shifted onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at you. "i know that nothing—not popularity or parental approval or some cookie-cutter future—is worth giving up what i feel when I'm with you."

you reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "and what do you feel when you're with me?"

"real," she said simply, echoing words from a night years ago. "like i don't have to pretend."

you pulled her down to you then, a kiss that tasted of strawberries and possibility, of winters survived and springs renewed.

outside, summer was asserting itself—the sun high and hot, the world lush with life. inside the small shed, time seemed suspended, the past and future collapsing into a perfect present.

later, walking home with your hands swinging between you, unafraid now of who might see, jackie stopped suddenly.

"what is it?" you asked.

she was looking at you with an expression of wonder, as if seeing you for the first time. "i just realized something."

"what?"

"im happy," she said, sounding surprised. "actually, genuinely happy."

you smiled, feeling the truth of it in your own chest—a lightness that had been absent for too long. "me too."

as you continued walking, you thought about the cycles of seasons, how winter always gives way to spring, how spring inevitably yields to summer. how nothing is permanent except change itself.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ yuri is life :3 who missed me?

TAGLIST :: @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @waitforyrlove @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled @m4gz-png @ifwdominicfike @honeymoonchem @ch6rm @freshloveee @theapollochronicles @mattsdolll @jetaimevous @secretlocket @saturniolo

hc! on the sunny side of the street

jackie taylor x fem!reader

summary: jackie taylor has a massive crush on you.

warnings: jackie not being subtle at all, reader is a yellowjacket, pure fluff, not proofread

୨୧ jackie was on the sunny side of the street every time you were near and she was very obvious about that.

୨୧ you joined the team last year and, at first, you were frightened of her. judging the book by its cover, jackie fulfilled every requirement to be a successful and typical mean girl; silky and shiny hair, extremely popular, team captain and a huge collection of admirers.

୨୧ it took you half a second to alter the perception you had of her when you joined her in the locker room after the short reunion you had with coach martinez. jackie was so energetic and excited to welcome you in, with an inviting smile and arms enthusiastically pulling you closer to a warm embrace. the sweet perfume of her lingered on your mind for days.

୨୧ on your first day as a yellowjacket, most of the girls were receptive and patient and ready to help you in whatever you needed.

୨୧ “okay, everyone. let’s give her some space!” jackie used her bossy team captain voice to disperse the crowd of curious people around you. at the second the other girls backed off just enough, she grabbed your arm and started to gush about a new party that was happening on friday night, inviting you to go with her.

୨୧ jackie didn’t want to give you some space. that girl wanted you to give you a space from the others!

୨୧ remember that jackie wasn’t subtle at all? well.

୨୧ during practice, van failed it to stop the ball a few times and even though it was no big deal, jackie got furious.

୨୧ “if we can’t even catch a ball, maybe we shouldn’t even bother to try for the nationals!” she lectured the team with arms folded across her chest and flushed cheeks for running too much.

୨୧ “it was just a mistake, jackie. relax!” taissa is the first one to defend her girlfriend, never afraid of going against jackie.

୨୧ “a mistake that could cost us a lot!”

୨୧ but then, the moment you literally tripped over the ball with your big ass feet and fell on your face, jackie was all over you with concerned eyes and tender touches on your arms to help you up.

୨୧ “are you serious? she sucks.” mari scoffs, rolling her eyes. a few of the girls were covering their faces with their hands to hide a laugh.

୨୧ “don’t say that. it was just a mistake! everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” jackie snarled at mari and decided to ignore the multiple death stares at her when she ignored your beginner mistake just to yell at van for something harder than just chase a ball.

୨୧ “you have to be fucking kidding me.” tai sighs.

୨୧ the very next day during practice, everyone was warming up and getting ready when jackie came in. hair flawlessly soft with a yellow ribbon adorning it.

୨୧ “attention, everyone! the nationals are coming, as all of you may know, and i thought it was a great idea to work on our speed. so…” she smiles proudly, hands forming a cup to hold a few pieces of paper. “i’ll randomly select a few people every day to run around the field for five minutes.”

୨୧ at the speed of light, all of the girls began to protest and call jackie a crazy girl. it was a lot, actually. the field was huge and if you were a panting mess after a simple practice, you would be dead after running for five minutes.

୨୧ “come on, yellowjackets. don’t you wanna win the big game?” she tries to encourage them with a forced smile, while disregarding the discontent comments.

୨୧ knowing that neither of you had a say on this, the silence settled in when jackie began to choose people and you were praying to all of the gods to not be chosen.

୨୧ “and the first one is…” she holds a small piece of paper in the air and reads the name written on it. “mari!”

୨୧ “are you serious? that’s not random, i saw you looking at it! i wanna see the it.” mari defends herself and jackie pull her hands back to her chest, protecting the papers like it was something worth of dying for.

୨୧ jackie knew damn well why she couldn’t show the papers. she spent a few minutes of her night yesterday writing only mari’s name on a sheet of paper. she could just pick someone else who was bothering you later tomorrow, she thought.

୨୧ “jackie, this is cruel. you’re just mad at her cause she said something about your precious girlfriend.” nat stands up this time, visibly annoyed.

୨୧ “and the second chosen one is natalie” jackie looks straight at the blondie, not even bothering to look at the names in her hands and act surprised. “have fun.”

୨୧ she was definitely favoring you and you were worried that everyone would hate you for that.

୨୧ if jackie wasn’t defending you from the girls passive aggressive comments, she was glued by your side like a god damn guardian dog.

୨୧ “good job today. you look so pretty.” says jackie after you missed the ball twice, kicked shauna’s leg by accident, almost lost balance when nat accidentally bumped into you and your hair was wildly all over the place. ignoring all of that, she definitely made you blush.

୨୧ it was quite a performance, an adorable and smart one. she would bat eyelashes, twirling her hair around her finger like in those cliche movies and acting all giggly and foolishly before saying goodbye.

୨୧ shauna would always give jackie a ride home and at the moment she got into the car, shauna was looking at her like 🤨 “what the fuck was all that about?”

The children are dead

pt 2 of Damien x Ghoul.sib reader

──► as the two siblings grow ever so closer bonded by the cold love of their 'adopted' family and the monstrosity of their past , life throws them another unyielding cruelty that breaks them both entirely.

Tw : major character death , child neglect , revenge

Edit ty for 42 likes !!

part 1 , part 3

I'm done dreaming.

ACT I

It was late December , the air around the manor was grim and chilly , nothing but haunting and a grim reminder that life was harsh and would never be easy. Damien clenches his fingers within his gloves as he attempts to soak up what little warmth he had.

Bruce and his other siblings stood before him in the patio , discussing events pertaining to last night's stake out. Damien tunes out their annoying , scratchy voices, but his eyes trained to every other possible corner of the room searching for them.

The grandfather ticks by, and the conversation turns dull , he had to hold himself exactly ten times from clawing Dick's eyes out whenever he'd call him a demon spwan or ask him who he's planning to kill. He's at his bloody wits until he see y/n's figure limping in.

Damien pushes back his chair and immediately launches himself towards them. They didn't have to convey words as his eyes already gave away how bloody worried he was with them. He can hear Bruce and the others calling him back, but he can't give a bloody damn about them right now.

He watches as y/n's bloody form lean against the doorframe as they slide to the ground like a limp leaf . Damien kneels with them and place his hand on their bleeding stomach - it was a big gash like a vicious creature took a bite out of them.

" Oh my God, we need to get them to a doctor-" he could hear Stephanie say from behind him, and Damien has never unsheathed his sword any faster . " Shut the fuck up and leave them alone " he growled.

The last time y/n went to a doctor , the medicine they used on them caused them to turn into a ghoul for three days straight - for three days his precious sibling was forced to be driven to insanity as their ghoulish form fought with what little human control they had left to suppress themselves from consuming humans.

His poor sibling wore ghoulish scratch marks on their arms and cheeks for months after their attempt at manhandking themseleves . He can see in the distance Tim opening his big trap to give his unwanted opinion, and Damien sneered at him . His sibling couldn't heal from their medication in his own world , hell - no medication could heal them , they had to hope to God they regenerated fast enough.

" Fuck off Drake " he sneered before crouching before y/n once again.

" What happened ?" He questioned them as he pressed him hand onto their wound to stop the wound from gushing even more blood. " Ran into another ghoul - no - he was an investigator from my world that kills ghouls like me - the undefeated ghoul investigator , Arima," they explained through coughing fits.

Damien stilled. He now knew the gravity of how extremely grim the situation became , the white reaper of his siblings' universe has come to end their demise . He remembered y/n talking about him , about how Arima possessed superhuman strength and his immense 'hatred for ghouls' lead the man to kill hundreds if not thousands of ghouls in his 18 years of occupation.

Y/n gave him a small smile . " I'll be okay," they reassured him . Damien just held them as he ignored the outside world.

Oh, how he wished he didn't believe them that night .

ACT II

January 6th , the night was quiet, and still , the moon casted its opulence across the streets of Gotham. A simply routine was instilled tonight , everyone had a simple stake out tonight .

It was the first night in years Damien and y/n hadn't been with each other on a mission for years - something he'd live to regret later . He found it suspicious, but Bruce insisted he needed to join him tonight to test him out as Robin and y/n had persistently encouraged him to go.

So here he was following Bruce from rooftop to rooftop as they stalked some of Joker's henchmen . For the last hour or so , Damien had checked in on y/n , and they reported they were doing okay and had just arrested some petty thrives for the night.

The hour was coming to an end , and so far, everyone but y/n reported in . Damien grew anxious , and y/n was always a timely person, so for them to be late was entirely unheard of.

Bruce reassured him that they were fine but that didn't stop the nagging feeling in his stomach and it's not like Bruce ever cared about your existence to begin with - only cared you did what you had to do and the thought of it pissed him off.

Damien was now finishing up wrapping up his grappling hook when y/n's frantic voice buzzed through his intercom . " Help me - he's - come quick " came their frantic voice through the static. Damien felt dread weighing like lead through his veins as he clutched onto his own intercom.

" Y/n are you okay ? Where are you ?" He asked frantically but was only left with static. Damien immediately began to leave when Bruce stopped him.

" Damien y/n isn't important right now we have more important things to worry about " Bruce or rather batman says and he held his son by the shoulder . Damien harshly yanked it off . " Leave me the fuck alone - I am going to them and you aren't stopping me " He yells as he grappled off the roof.

Batman calls after him, but Damien ignores him as he grapples his way to the other side of Gotham city . His heart beats heavy in his chest as he appraches your last known location only to see the building left in ruin.

Blood splatters were everywhere, and ruins were left anew . " Y/N !!!!" He shouted as he grappled around the area , eyes frantically looking for your figure . He begs , prays to whatever God out there that you're safe as he continued further as he observes more buildings left to ruins.

Ruble covered the area as far as the eye can see , not a living soul in sight. Damien kept calling your name out , tears practically falling down his face as he continued searching.

Minutes ticked by dreadfully until he finally spots you. Your bloody figure lays there in a bed of red spider lillies. Damien lets out an ear, piercing scream at the sight . With shaky legs and arms, he approaches your figure . Your figure layed still as a gentle breeze blow, causing the spider lillies to brush up against your form like a warm blanket .

Damien holds your form with shaky hands as he keeps repeating no's over and over. Your dead brown human eye stared at him , soulless and unmoving while your beautiful red eye had a jaggery, long sword piercing right through it . Your right arm and both your legs were missing , but still - in the moonlight , you looked calm.

Damien grew quiet as he layed his head on your chest , no longer can he selfishly listen to your heartbeat and relish in the familiar love you bestowed upon him. No longer would he be able to share a laugh with you , your pain , your burdens , your bitter coffees to your exhilarating training.

He would no longer have any of those as now you lay dead , robbed from his safe embrace because life was too cruel and unforgiving and had to take away the one good thing he had his life.

He no longer felt angry at the world. No, he felt awake and mad . Be prepared , Gotham , for tonight two children died and your long awaited recogning is comming with nothing but cold , bitter , unforgiving blood shed.

A crow in the distance let out a war cry as Damien kisses your forehead one last time before the spider lillies cover your form one last time , shadong your innocence from the raging hell Damien is about to bestow upon the world.. A gentle breeze blows, and Damien unsheathes his sword, ready to bring destruction and ruin to the world.

dreaming world

prepare to be

awaken.

Part 3, anyone ?

Jackie’s girl

Pairing ! Fem!Reader x Nat Scatorccio

Summary ! Nat has wanted you for months, before the wilderness, but now that Jackie’s gone, she can take the chance to make you hers

Note ! Wanted to show Nat some love on here!

Request !

Nat watched as you sat in the corner of the living room, looking at the fire place, knees to your chest. You ate your girlfriend, but for survival! She would’ve wanted it! Atleast that’s what you told yourself.

The fire crackled and popped, sending sparks flying into the air. You stared into its flickering flames, lost in thought. Memories of your girlfriend flashed through your mind, and guilt surged through your body. You told yourself that she would’ve wanted it, that it was necessary for survival, but deep down, you knew that this act had changed you forever.

Nat watched you intently, studying your every movement. She approached you cautiously, careful not to startle you out of your thoughts.

Nat sat next to you, watching the fire in the fireplace. The heat from the fire washed over her face, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for you.

She turned to you, her expression soft and concerned. “Hey, are you doing alright?” she asked gently, her voice breaking through the sound of the crackling fire.

The cabin was quiet, everyone was still processing resorting into cannibalism. “I’m fine.. I just miss her.. I feel so guilty for doing that.” You said as you put your hands onto your forehead and massaged the migraine you had.

Nat nodded, understanding the pain and guilt you were feeling. She knew all too well the toll that this situation take on their mental health.

"I know," Nat said quietly, her hand reaching out to rest on your shoulder. "It’s a lot to take in, and it’s okay to feel guilty. But you did what you had to do to survive."

“I wish I had checked on her! Stupid Shauna, she just had to complain about something!” You said, clearly annoyed

Nat sighed, her eyes hardening as you brought up Shauna’s name. She knew that you and Shauna had been butting heads lately, and she didn’t want to get caught in the middle.

“It’s not your fault,” Nat said firmly. “You couldn’t have known what was going to happen. You did your best, and that’s all anyone can ask for in these circumstances.”

You nodded, feeling a little bit of the weight lifted off your shoulders. Nat sat there quietly, giving you time to process your emotions and thoughts.

She scooted a bit closer, her body warm next to yours. She placed her hand on your back, rubbing small circles to soothe you.

Natalie helped you feel better about yourself and about the situation throughout the weeks, yes, she felt bad that your girlfriend died. but cmon, she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to get closer to you.

Natalie continued to support you through the difficult times, constantly checking in on you and making sure that you were okay. She comforted you when you cried, listened to you when you needed someone to talk to, and even made sure to bring you things that helped you feel better.

Right now, you and her are walking through the woods, just enjoying the scenery, you were both bundled up in sweaters, and shirts.

As you and Nat walked through the woods, the crunch of leaves under your boots filled the air. The sun was shining through the pine trees, casting shadows on the snowy forest floor.

Nat looked over at you, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “It’s beautiful out here today, huh?” she said, her breath coming out in little puffs of white mist.

“It’s fucking freezing, but yeah it is..” you say with a small laugh, you looked up at her and her rosy cheeks.

You couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked, with the sun glowing between the branches and landing on her pale skin and blonde hair.

You slowly slid your hand into Natalie’s, looking up at her for any sign that she didn’t want you to touch her.

Nat's eyes widened a fraction, surprised by the contact, but she quickly relaxed into it. She wrapped her fingers around yours, her hand feeling warm against your icy one.

A smile curved at her lips, and she swung your hands between the two of you. "Took you long enough," she teased gently, nudging you playfully.

You blushed at her words, surprised by her forwardness but also pleased. "What do you mean?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual.

Natalie chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, don’t act like you haven’t noticed," she said, her voice growing softer. "I’ve been giving you hints for months."

Nat slowly stopped walking, stopping to face you. Her gaze was more intense now, her eyes locking with yours. You felt your heart start to race, unsure of what was happening but also wanting to know.

She reached out, gently stroking your cheek with her thumb. “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move for so long,” she said softly. “But I’m tired of waiting.”

You blushed at her words, but you felt guilty, you were only thinking about what Jackie would say if she was here right now with you.

She would want you to be happy, right? Want you to live on, move on from her, even when she’s gone for good. “You’ve liked me even when I was with Jackie?”

Nat nodded, her eyes searching your face for any sign of rejection. "Yes, even when you were with Jackie." she said softly. "I couldn’t help how I felt, no matter how hard I tried."

Nat’s hand slid down to your waist, pulling you closer to her. “I know you probably feel guilty about it,” she said softly. “But you don’t have to be. You deserve some happiness, after everything that’s happened.”

Nat’s thumb traced gentle circles on your hip, her touch soothing. Her body was so close to yours, all you could feel was her warmth and her breath against your skin.

“I can make you happy,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving yours. “If you let me.”

You looked down, thinking for a moment, you hesitantly looked up, her brown eyes looking down at you, waiting for an answer. “Okay.. but we need to take it slow.. my girlfriend just died for fucks sakes.” You joked, earning a small laugh.

“Promise I’ll take it slow..” she says, her voice genuine and soft. You nodded your head, and the two of you started to talk again like normal.

I had to do this two times because the first time I finished and I clicked saved tumblr decided to delete the second half of this sooo