ALWAYS, FOREVER :: JACKIE TAYLOR
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
More Posts from Mitsukii-07 and Others
Jackie tries to mess with the radio…
Jackie: baby please. Find me.
The rumbling of a helicopter is heard…
The entire group sees a helicopter coming towards them…
The copter lands close by and Y/N jumps out…
Jackie runs towards Y/N…
Jackie: baby!!!
Jackie falls into Y/N’s arms, crying…
Y/N: I got you and I’m never letting you go
Y/N kisses her softly…
For @lifespectator
dating jackie taylor! jackie taylor x female reader
she's a very clingy girlfriend, always on your side, with her arm intertwined with yours, hand touching your knee, shoe touching your leg under the table... she lives for the reactions you give her.
letting her put makeup on you. If you're already into makeup and use it regularly, she'll try new looks on you and always waits for your approval with an eyebrow raised.
if you don't wear makeup at all, she'll beg to try it on you until you let her. she rewards you with kisses after, don't worry. oh! but she has to take a photo before taking it off!
buying her a sweet treat she's craving, and she'll literally think about marrying you right there right now.
you have to study together in the library because if you study in each other's houses you always end up making out and getting distracted.
jackie leaving you cute, adorable notes on your notebook and locker, thinking about your reaction to them.
your parents loving her, she's so polite and respectful, to them she's the sweetest, kindest girl. not that she isn't- she is, but she's a little freak sometimes.
making you go to parties with her sometimes, just to get drunk and spend the night on your arms and lap. having to drive her to your house and putting a hand on her mouth to not wake up your parents.
waking up not knowing where she is, but as long as she feels you or smells you there, she knows she's okay.
watching her try on dresses, and she needs to you to be paying attention. otherwise, she trows a pillow at your face.
" which one do I look better with ? the white one or the purple one ? " she asks putting the two dresses in front of her body.
" baby you look good with anything" you say and she sighs and puts the dresses down.
" I love you for that but I really need an answer- which one ? " she asks again with her arms crossed.
" hmmm... purple " you say and she smiles, grabbing the purple dress.
" wait- I think I'll wear the white one. it's better."
watching her soccer games and being her number one supporter! wearing her number on your shirt and hugging her when they win.
when they lose, you're always there for her, even tho she's pretty confident and mature person, you know she gets sad even if she doesn't let it show that much.
cuddling her in her bed while showering her with kisses and teeling her about your day to distract her.
this goes the same when it comes to jealousy, she knows you love her, but sometimes she doesn't know how not show it affecter her, watching some girl talk with you all giddy and touching your arm and complimenting you- she feels angry but she feels angrier that it affects her.
reassuring her you love her and that interaction wasn't important to you, while showing her it's okay to feel like this sometimes, she's human. and teeling her you also feel that way when she's around Jeff of his friends.
which she shakes her head - " I would never in my life cheat on you with Jeff - with those boys - with anyone ! "
she loves flowers, is always buying flowers for you, it doesn't matter the occasion.
she has an album full of photos of you together/ letters you've sent each other/ silly things that reminds her of you.
makes a playlist of songs she thinks are the songs of your relationship, and she's so cute - always daydreams about you when it's on.
Little Demon
Batfam Yan! × Neglected Nezuko! Reader
Note:English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error
You were normal
You weren't the monster you've become, before everything you were just an ordinary high school student
Everything had happened so fast that you didn't even have time to process it
A few hours ago everything was normal
You woke up as usual adding yourself to go to class, you greeted alfred while you were having breakfast
Breakfast felt as lonely as always your family was never present not even in things as common as having breakfast together as a family
No one ever had time for you, everyone was so busy with their responsibilities and you understood it, you always understood
They were vigilant and you knew they had a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders but sometimes you would like them to look at you or ask you how your day was
If someone in the family turned to look at you or talk to you it was a miracle, the only person you had by your side was alfred
He was a father figure more than your real father could be
Bruce, as you called him because father was too big a name for someone like him, maybe he wasn't even worthy of being called father
You saw his relationship with the rest of your siblings and how he treated them with so much respect and affection
At some point you felt jealous, why was he so good to them? Why couldn't you feel that affection
Why?
Why!?
Nobody took care of you or protected you, since you were little you understood that if you didn't protect yourself nobody would
Everyone had talents and they were amazing
You were just (name), the shadow of the family because the only thing that was important was having the last name Wayne, but then you were nobody
You were never anybody
You stopped thinking so much and picked up your bag and walked out the door of the mansion giving Alfred a last goodbye
_
Classes went by faster than you would like, school was a safe place for you, there you could be yourself with your friends
To your friends you weren't (name) Wayne, the daughter of a billionaire playboy, you were just a (name) L/N a girl full of energy and eager to help others
You lazily got up from your seat grabbing your bag heading to the classroom door
There was Aoi waiting for you as usual, you were grateful to have such a good friend like her
"You look more tired than usual, is something wrong (name)?"
The black-haired girl asks worriedly, walking with you to the exit. You just nodded, giving her a fake smile.
"Yeah, don't worry, I just didn't sleep well today."
That's a lie. You had slept more than well, but since this morning you had felt that something was wrong, as if something bad was about to happen.
You couldn't shake that feeling off after hours. You decided to ignore it, but that feeling still remained.
Aoi just nodded, unsure of your answer. She had been your friend for years and she knew you too well to know when something was bothering you.
"Hey, today me and shinobu are going to a new cafe that opened. Do you want to go?"
You stayed quiet for a few seconds thinking about the proposal, you liked going out with your friends but this time you felt like you shouldn't go
"I'm sorry aoi but... I'm really busy today I have homework to do"
You politely apologized to her
Aoi raised an eyebrow, there was something she didn't like, she knew something was happening to you but she wasn't going to force you to tell her, she didn't want it to seem like she was someone insistent
She simply gave you a nod and then looked ahead, this was where your paths separated as you lived on totally opposite streets
She gave you a big hug as a farewell and then separated from you with a smile on her face
"See you tomorrow (name), take care!"
She said as she shook her hand and her presence disappeared more and more as she walked away
You let out a tired sigh before turning on your heels and taking the path home
You walked with your head down, your thoughts consumed your head that you didn't even notice the imminent danger that was approaching you
You didn't understand why your family seemed to hate you, you were always obedient, good and polite
You were the best in your class and you had great intelligence but you were still invisible to all of them
Sometimes you just wanted to disappear, being someone else didn't matter you just wanted to leave
But you knew that until you turned 18 it would be impossible to get out of that house
You were so distracted in your thoughts that you didn't even have time to react before something too strong pushed you into a dirty alley
You tried to get up and defend yourself but that strange man grabbed you by the neck cutting off your breathing and not being able to get up
As your vision blurred you could see his red eyes and a cynical smile forming on his lips
The last thing you felt was something embedded in your neck causing you to lose consciousness
Everything was black, you couldn't move or feel anything
So you died?
Is this how it all ended? Dying in a dirty alley full of trash and rats?
Maybe this is what you deserved, you were never anything important just trash
And trash should stay with trash, right?
Alfred ran at full speed through the mansion towards Bruce's office, he couldn't believe that this had happened
He slammed open the door to Bruce's office causing Bruce to stop concentrating on the paperwork to look at his butler
It was too strange for Alfred to enter without knocking, and he was also struck by Alfred's worried and disheveled attitude
Only something too important or serious would have to happen to break Alfred's impeccable personality
"Master Bruce...Miss (name)..."
The old man struggled to find air in his lungs, having run all over the mansion had left him exhausted
"What's wrong with her? Don't tell me she got into trouble-"
Alfred interrupted Bruce in the middle of his sentence to speak again
"No...she...she's dead"
Those words hit Bruce hard
Dead?
Your death couldn't be true, it had to be some kind of joke
"What?"
It was the only thing he could say in shock, he knew that Alfred would never lie to him, much less about a subject as serious as death
But his brain simply couldn't process it
_
The entire batfam was at the police station, the news of your death shook the entire family in a bad way
Now they were here to identify your body, they found it in an alley according to the police record a woman who was passing by found your body covered in blood that was supposed to have been yours
According to the police it was a very crude and bloody crime scene
They couldn't believe that someone would be capable of doing that to a being as innocent as you
The simple fact that someone had done all those things to you made everyone's blood boil with rage
Richard felt terrible, remembering all the times you asked him to spend time together and he simply made the excuse that he was busy or that he didn't have time
He was the worst brother, he was supposed to be the oldest one who should have protected you but all he did was push you away and cause your premature death
Jason could barely handle all the emotions he felt at that moment, he felt rage, sadness and regret
He still remembered the times he had insulted you and told you not to interfere in his life
No matter what he had to do, he was going to avenge his little sister and he was going to make the person who had done that to you suffer
In Tim's head he tried to find some possible suspect for your death, maybe the joker had already killed Jason once, it was just a matter of time before he did it again
He could still remember the times he had ignored you, that moment when you made cupcakes was still in his mind and you had the brightest smile of all
You had prepared them especially for your family but all you received was their rejection telling you that they were busy
Remember the rude way in which I refused your food and asked you to leave, right now, anything to be able to be with you and try your desserts
Damian was burning with fury, who was the bastard who dared to kill his sister!?
He, unlike the rest, didn't want to accept his guilt. He firmly believed that the times he had hit you, humiliated you, and insulted you were for your own good.
You should know well that you were too weak for this world, that he was your protector.
Cass could barely process everything. She had lost another important person to her again, and this time it was her fault again.
She leaned against a corner and let her thoughts consume her. She felt the worst. Maybe if she had paid attention to you, you would be alive now.
Barbara felt the same way as Richard. She still remembered the times you begged for her attention, wanting to spend time with her, but she only pushed you away more and more each day.
Steph could only stare at the floor. It was her fault for ignoring you. She thought that at some point you would adapt to the mansion, but it never happened. All she did was make you feel more like a burden and a nuisance.
But the one who felt the worst was Bruce. He was supposed to be your father, he was supposed to be the first to protect you. But he didn't. All he did was ignore you
He was the worst father ever, now because of him you were dead
They took him to a room to identify your body and left him there alone for a few minutes
Right there he collapsed, his serious and unwavering facade broke
His daughter, his baby is now dead because of him, he would do anything to revive you, he would even use the Lazarus pit even knowing the consequences that caused
But suddenly he felt like something lunged at him
And there was you
Alive
You were alive in some way, but he saw that it wasn't you...
Your eyes had that wild look, your teeth were sharp and long nails that you had never had before
He grabbed a metal pipe he found on the floor and tried to fight you by putting it in your mouth so that you wouldn't bite him or disfigure his face with your claws or teeth
Your strength was superhuman, as if you were no longer the (name) that he knew
Now you had become something wilder
But he felt small tears falling on his face, he was crying
It seemed as if a part of you was trying to control your instincts, he noticed your distressed and scared look
Suddenly Richard entered the room with Jason
They had heard a loud noise coming from the room
The men's faces were surprised when they saw you alive
Or rather, you didn't look human and your skin looked paler
Also, your hair had changed, the tips that were completely black before were now orange
The two quickly came out of their trance and helped Bruce get you off of them, you were still struggling and trying to get out of their grip
Then Damian and Tim appeared through the door when they heard all the commotion
Before either of them could speak, Richard interrupted them
"There's no time for explanations, distract the police now!"
He said trying to keep you from getting out of the grip, Tim and Damian just nodded confused as they went with the others to distract the guards
Meanwhile Jason decided that the best idea was to knock you out so he did, but he earned a scolding from Bruce for hitting you so hard
"Stop complaining so much and be thankful we didn't let her kill you"
He said dryly, he saw how you fell surrendered to his arms, for now they should find a way to get you out of here without anyone noticing
_
The days passed quickly in the mansion, they had you with a kind of muzzle on your mouth to prevent any incident
Although after having "revived" you were only aggressive once, to tell the truth this version of you was much calmer and less energetic than the previous one
After Bruce asked Constantine for help he told him that most likely you had been turned into a demon and that if they wanted you to be human again the person that turned you into a demon was supposed to turn you back into a human
For days the batfam spent their time investigating and trying to find information about the person who did that to you but they found almost nothing
But almost nothing was that bad, it seemed you rejected human flesh and blood and you recovered energy by sleeping, you didn't need to eat or drink water just sleep
Most of the day (not to say all day) you spent somewhere in the mansion sleeping
Everyone fought over who would cuddle with you during your morning nap, they agreed on a deal that every day of the week it would be a family member's turn to sleep with you and take care of you
And after everything worked, most of your memories disappeared so they didn't have to worry about you remembering what horrible siblings they were
They also found out that you can't be in the sun unless you want to disintegrate and die
Tim thought it was a good idea to open the windows so you could see the sun after so long
Tim's expression The horror on his face was great when he saw how your skin began to burn and how you screamed in pain
He quickly closed the windows and approached you to see your condition
Luckily your regenerative abilities were very helpful, but Tim still didn't escape Bruce's scolding and you think Damian almost killed Tim that day
You could say that the days in the mansion were good, of course sometimes you would like to go out and see other places but you knew it would be impossible
The batfam preferred to die rather than let you wander alone through the streets of Gotham again, in their eyes you were still that weak little girl even knowing that you could easily kill them all
For now you should get used to this life until they find a cure
But you shouldn't worry, when you are cured they will never let you go again
Never
I finished this quicker than I thought
I hope you like it because I probably won't upload anything for 3 or 4 days
byeee
post-crash jackie taylor who's depressed and starving, but fights for her survival because her only thoughts are of seeing you, her girlfriend she left behind.
jackie who lays awake at night, shivering despite three layers of blankets, with her glossy eyes fixed to the ceiling. memories of you play behind her eyes, specifically watching you sleep on a lazy sunday morning.
if she thinks really hard, she can see you in her bed, lying face-to-face with her. she can see your peaceful features and the slow breaths leaving and entering you nose. she can nearly feel you reach out in your sleep, your arm encircling her waist or your head burying itself in the crook of her neck. her heart melts just thinking about it.
she didn't realize how well she slept beside you until her many sleepless nights after the crash. she would give anything to hear you softly snoring beside her again.
jackie who collects little pieces of nature that remind her of you. a perfectly shaped leaf floats down from a tree and lands on her head. she finds an unusually smooth rock by the lake. she smiles at whatever it is, a sign from nature that you're still out there waiting for her, and keeps it in her personal collection.
jackie who purposefully doesn't wear the shirt she stole from your closet the day before she left so that it still smells like you. every night, without fail, she brings the shirt to her nose and inhales like her life depends on it. when she notices the scent starting to fade, silent tears stream down her cheeks. she's losing you.
jackie who does, however, wear your cheer bow in her ponytail. you had given it to her for nationals as a good luck charm, and now she feels like she has a part of you with her wherever she goes. when one of the girls teases her for wearing it, she shoots them a glare so deadly they instantly seal their lips.
jackie who speaks aloud to you when no one's around, looking up to the sky for you.
"god, i wish you could've seen the look on misty's face! it was hilarious. you would've laughed so hard, you probably would've peed a little," she laughs, sitting with her back against a tree trunk, her fingers twiddling with your bow.
"do you still think about me?" she pauses for your response. "d-do you think i'm dead?" pause. "well, i'm not. at least i don't think so." longer pause. "are you...moving on? you better not." pause. "she better not be prettier than me."
"i miss you. so much."
jackie who can't even talk to anyone about how she's feeling because your relationship was never public. it was always sneaky glances from across the hall and shared moments behind closed doors. now, thousands of miles away from you, she regrets not loving you like she should have. she promises to love you harder than anyone ever has if when you're reunited.
jackie who could spend hours staring at the polaroid she took of you. it's a random one of you doing homework on her bed, your brows knit in adorable concentration. it's the only one she has with her. she keeps it in the back pocket of her jeans wherever she goes.
one time she loses it and runs outside, frantically digging around in the dirt on hands and knees to find where she dropped it. in reality, she misplaced it on the kitchen counter where shauna finds it and recognizes the polaroid as coming from jackie's camera. she asks jackie about it, who's still knee-deep in dirt, and jackie suddenly bursts into tears, confessing everything like word vomit.
although she nearly went into shock from losing your picture, it does feel nice to share her feelings for you with someone. she feels a little less alone.
jackie who loves sleep, although it seems to elude her many nights, because it means seeing your face in her dreams. it doesn't matter if it's a good dream or a nightmare, as long as she can see you again. when she wakes up she keeps her eyes glued shut, greedily hoping she can fall back asleep and see you once more.
she ends up being the last up and first to bed. the other girls think she's not pulling her weight, but how could anyone blame little lovesick jackie taylor ☹️
jackie who hated some of your favorite songs back home, but now finds herself humming them while doing daily chores. she smiles remembering lying on your bed, watching you dance and sing along to them around your room. she always told you to "turn that shit off and play some real music," but now she loves those songs because they represent you.
jackie who realizes how utterly devoted to you she is. it wasn't as clear back home with so many distractions, but now that she's alone with her thoughts almost all the time, the only thing she can think about is you. nothing else really matters to her or motivates her besides you. it only took a plane crash for her to realize that.
jackie who looks up to the sky and promises both you and herself that she won't die before she sees you again.
jackie who is rescued (because she doesn't die, idk what you guys are talking about) and keeps that promise.
jackie who can't believe her eyes when she sees you for the first time. for a second, she thinks she's dreaming. she's had a recurring dream of this exact moment after all. but, when you start running toward her, she snaps back to reality and it hits her: it's really you.
she instantly bursts into tears as your arms wrap around her, the warmth of your embrace striking her like a train and grounding her at the same time. she squeezes you so tight you might break a rib, her head burrowing into your shoulder. she deeply inhales your scent and lets her tears trickle onto your skin.
jackie who doesn't let you pull away or say anything before she pulls you into a bruising kiss. she doesn't care if the two of you are alone or in a crowded room, nothing matters to her except showing you just how much she missed you.
she pecks your lips repeatedly, whispering an "i love you" in between each kiss like it's her mantra. it's heaven on earth.
jackie who sleeps beside you that night for the first time in nearly two years. she holds you to her chest like a teddy bear as you whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears until you fall asleep. it's the best sleep she's ever had.
she wakes up the next morning and the first thing she sees is your peaceful face. she watches the slow breaths leave and enter you nose and finds silent tears slipping down her cheeks.
jackie who knows the sleepless nights, insatiable hunger, and depressive episodes were worth it just to come back to you.
i love you lovesick!jackie please come save meeeeeee also jackie x cheerleader!reader 🤭
Perv Shauna this, Perv Lottie that. Where is my depraved girl twink representation?
Jackie runs inside her bedroom, slamming the door shut and backing herself against it. She was breathing hard, had she run home? She really didn’t even process getting back to her house, she had tunnel vision. When Jackie finally caught her breath, she slid down the floor to a sitting position, took off her backpack and pulled a sweatshirt that’s all too familiar to her, out of her bag. She clutched the hoodie in both hands, bringing the soft material up to her face, and inhaling your scent.
The truth is, you didn’t really know she had your sweatshirt. Jackie had sat behind you in 10th period History for over half the year now, she was *just* starting to question her sexuality at the beginning of the year, and then along came you. She was constantly smelling your cologne, watching your back and arm muscles flex through your t-shirts, getting an occasional hand graze as you pass the worksheets to her, and Jackie just wasn’t supposed to fall in love? She latched onto you, to an obsessive degree. Desperately trying to refrain from threading her fingers through your hair, drooling as you groan in pleasure when you stretch your back, hearing you speak to friends in the class and pretending all that fondness in your tone was directed at her.
So that day, when she noticed you had accidentally left your favorite sweatshirt behind in class, on the back of your chair right in front of Jackie, she realized she had two options. One, to run the sweatshirt to you before you went to practice, maybe get a chance to have a nice but brief chat, where you’d thank her for making sure your favorite sweatshirt made it back to you. Or option two, take the sweatshirt and run.
And that’s just what she did, she acted on impulse, and now she has something of yours. She has something of yours that’s concrete, something that will make her fantasies more realistic. Because imagining you on top of her, saying and doing all of those sinful things she thinks about, late, late at night, feels all the more genuine if she can smell you and feel your sweatshirt. She could clutch at it, while she touched herself and pretend it was your hands that knew her so well. The smell of your cologne on the hoodie spurred her on to slip a hand into her pants, and begin to play with herself. Her theft had left her turned on since the moment she left the classroom, stuffing your clothing into her bag, all the while thinking of all that she could do with it. She should be ashamed of how wet she was, if she were in the right of mind she probably would be, but she was being driven by the extreme want you produce in her. She muses to herself that you’d probably love the sound of your name on her lips, she tests it out, calling your name quietly to the empty room, hoping she could manifest you n the middle of her room, feeling just as depraved as she was. Jackie touched herself with a torturously slow pace, the way she imagined it, you always took your time with her, no matter how much she pleaded with you. The way you’d pull every “please” from her until she was crying in desperation. Her eyes are rolling back in pleasure as she brings your sweatshirt up to her face and drowns in the ghost of you that haunts the piece of fabric. She’s not even halfway through her favorite fantasy of you before she’s closing her eyes, and finishing with a pathetic moan that’s muffled by the hoodie. Once Jackie is brought back to planet earth, there is only one thing she’s absolutely certain of; You are never seeing this sweatshirt again.
got way too busy to actually answer this but wowwwwwww. im fucking speechless bro honestly. once again i dont think you need to put perv in front of jackie 🤔. i think it's just implied
something about jackie developing a pavlovian response to your cologne after getting off with your sweatshirt all the time. she's sitting behind you in class and is so turned on just from the smell of you. jackie teasing herself silly every night imagining you doing it for her?? she always imagines you so slow and even regardless of how much she begs for it, as if you don't care how much she enjoys it. something about you just touching her however you want really gets her going. jackie getting frustrated with how quickly she's finishing as she breathes in your hoodie so she keeps going with that same slow pace, writhing against her own hand as it gets to be too much. but she just imagines the way you'd keep going even as she begged you to stop. she's so careful not to get her tears on the hoodie, not wanting it to stop smelling like you.
thinking about working on a group project with jackie and she's practically shaking as you sit on her bed talking about the blank check or some shit. "so what do you think?" and jackies just frantically nodding along because she's long gone. finding your hoodie underneath her pillow while she's ran off to the bathroom...
god that was so good broooooooo. holy shit
girlfriend? jackie taylor ೃ࿔*:
jackie taylor x fem!reader
every time you and jackie go out you get asked if you’re a couple, and for the first time jackie doesn’t bother to correct them.
(jackie might be kinda ooc but idc)
It happens at a party.
Jackie had been the one to drag you there—obviously. She always did. She had this way of making it sound like fun, of making you feel like you’d actually be missing out if you said no.
“Come on,” she had said earlier, linking her arm through yours as she flashed that bright, effortless grin—the one that made people bend to her will without even realizing it. “It won’t be the same without you.”
And like always, you caved.
Because that’s what you do.
You follow Jackie into the chaos of red solo cups and bad decisions, standing a little too close, listening to her talk, pretending you don’t memorize every laugh.
Because that’s what you’ve always done.
It’s late now, the house full, the music loud enough to shake the walls. Jackie had taken you by the wrist earlier and led you through the crowd, pulling you into conversation after conversation, always keeping you near.
You’re standing in the kitchen now, half-listening to some girl from Jackie’s English class ramble about her latest crush.
Jackie’s beside you, casually sipping from a red cup, her hand resting lightly against your arm. She’s always been touchy—grabbing your wrist, looping her arm through yours, hooking her chin over your shoulder when she’s bored.
You’re used to it.
Or at least, you pretend to be.
And then, mid-sentence, the girl glances between you and Jackie and just—says it.
“You two are such a cute couple.”
It’s casual, an offhand comment, like she doesn’t even think twice about it.
And for a second, neither of you say anything.
You expect Jackie to roll her eyes, to scoff, to wave it away like she always does when people assume things about her. Like she always has before.
But she doesn’t.
Instead, Jackie just smiles.
It’s not a big thing. Not an obvious, earth-shattering moment.
It’s barely anything.
But it makes your stomach drop all the same.
Because Jackie Taylor hates clichés.
She hates the predictable, the obvious, the expected. She’s spent her entire life curating herself, making sure she’s always in control of how people see her.
And yet—she doesn’t correct them.
Doesn’t laugh it off, doesn’t even glance at you like she’s expecting you to jump in.
She just lets it sit there.
She looks at you, not at the girl who said it.
Like she’s waiting.
Like she’s expecting something.
And you don’t know what to do with that.
Later, when the party has died down and the air outside is crisp with autumn, the two of you walk home together, arms brushing with every step.
Jackie hasn’t mentioned it.
Neither have you.
But the silence feels different.
Like something is hanging between you, something that wasn’t there before.
At one point, Jackie exhales softly and says, “Hey.”
And you think—this is it.
She’s going to bring it up. She’s going to laugh about it, make some joke, maybe tease you for looking so flustered.
But she doesn’t.
She just hesitates.
And then, finally—“Never mind.”
You swallow.
Jackie’s not like this. She’s not hesitant, not uncertain. She always knows exactly what to say.
But now?
Now, she just tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and keeps walking.
Like she almost said something, too.
When you say goodnight, she lingers.
Just for a second.
And as she turns to go, she bumps her shoulder against yours and murmurs—too soft, too knowing—
“You didn’t correct her either.”
And then she’s gone.
Leaving you standing there, heart racing, wondering if you imagined it.
Wondering if maybe, just maybe—
She’s been waiting for this, too.
A Twisted Romantic Fairytale (Wally Clark x Reader
Word Count: 3K
A tragic tale of two star-crossed lovers.
Warnings: Death
The homecoming game of 1983 was a tragic tale of two star crossed lovers perishing beside one another. It’s a story for the history books and one Split River High would remember in the years going forward. One that students remember as a devastating if not twisted romantic fairytale. Two young lovers bound together for eternity.
Homecoming Game - 1983.
Excitement runs rampant through the air as everybody floods into the stadium, eager chattering of students combined with the cheerful melodies of the marching band fill me with joy. It’s not as if I haven’t been here before, I’m no stranger to the blinding lights of Split River football stadium. In fact I’ve been cheering on the sidelines at every football game for the past four years or so, but tonight is different. I’m unsure of whether the electricity I can feel within the air has always been there and I have simply never noticed, or if it has something to do with the fact that this is my last homecoming game of my high school career. It’s the one night that counts. After all, it’s hard to miss the countless recruiters already situated within the stands.
“There you are! God, I’ve been looking all over for you!”
Upon hearing the familiar voice, I can’t help but smile. Turning my attention away from the water fountain where I had previously been filling my water bottle, to see the dark haired jock that makes my heart race.
Wally Clark. Where do I even begin to describe this boy?
I first met Wally on the second day of senior year. My family had just moved to Split River from Amber, Nevada, following my father’s transfer within the police department. Having accepted a promotion, despite the fact it meant we had to uproot our entire lives and move almost two thousand miles away.
It’s fair to say that I had been a complete mess, struggling to find my feet in a town that was the complete opposite to everything I had been used to. Not to mention the constant arguing between my parents caused by the stress of the move. Feeling so overwhelmed by my entire life changing so quickly, I couldn’t bring myself to attend first period and instead found myself tucked away in the bleachers, smoking a cigarette with shaky hands.
It was at that moment that Wally had found me, with a warm smile on his face, he comforted me. Welcomed me to the strange new town of Split River. Offered to sit with me in the cafeteria at lunch despite being a total stranger. However, something about the way things took place felt incredibly natural. As though this was the way things were meant to be.
Wally and I became inseparable from that moment forward, he encouraged me to join the cheerleading team. Insisting that it was only because he knew it was a passion of mine and not because it meant I would be forced to go to the football games that he just so happened to play. And how could I say no to that charming grin?
Throughout the years, we both learnt a lot about one another. He listened and supported me as I discussed my turbulent homelife, detailing how my parents seemed to be getting closer and closer to divorce by the day and how in turn I became practically invisible to them. I was there for him following every argument he had with his mother, reminding him that his sole purpose in life was not just football. Ensuring he knew that he had other talents and qualities that were just as good if not better than his football skills.
We weren’t best friends, we were each other’s rock through thick and thin. So when he kissed me on the field, following yet another win for the team, I felt like I was floating on air. Unearthing all of the feelings I harbored for the jock, even if I had spent all that time trying to bury them.
Wally’s heart is so pure and full of love. Being on the receiving end of that love to the fullest extent is the greatest joy I will ever be able to experience. To have someone be such a bright light in your life is truly a blessing.
So if I had to describe Wally Clark? I’d say he was an angel brought down from heaven just for me.
“Excited for the big game my love?” Wally asks as he finally reaches me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and placing a soft kiss on my temple.
“More nervous than excited. Kristine’s had us practicing a new move and with all the recruiters, I’m just scared I’m going to let the nerves get to me and mess up.” I admit, reaching my own hand up to hold his that remains over my shoulder as we begin to stroll through the crowds towards the locker rooms.
“You’re a superstar!” Wally exclaims, to which I’m unable to contain my laughter. “I mean it! You’re gonna smash it, honestly. I’ve never seen someone make cheerleading look as mesmerizing as you do. It’s borderline hypnotic, I’m telling you.”
“Sure, yeah, whatever you say.” I reply, tone sarcastic, yet his words of encouragement do make me feel ten times better. “Anyway, what about my favorite player? Are you feeling okay?”
I don’t miss the pained look that flashes briefly crosses his face before returning to his usual winning beam. I’m sure he’s just ready to get the game over with, wanting to return to some sense of normality and let loose at the dance. No longer having to deal with the overwhelming amount of pressure that his mom places on him to be the best.
“I guess I’m a little worried. My knee has been playing up for the past few days and coach said I needed to rest it, which is what I’ve been trying to do. I don’t know, I just don’t want to let anyone down, especially not my mom. Or you.”
As Wally finishes speaking we reach the doors of the locker room and I remove myself from his embrace to stand in front of him. Taking his hands gently in mine as I gaze up at the sweet boy. Noticing the slight gleam of worry and shame hidden deep within his coffee brown eyes.
“Whatever happens out there, you won’t be letting anyone down, I promise.” My voice is soft as I speak to him, wanting him to truly understand how little his performance matters. “Your mom may be disappointed but she’ll get over it. As long as you’re happy, healthy and alive, that’s the most important thing. Just don’t push yourself too hard, I know how important it is to you that you make your mom proud but she’ll be proud of you no matter what. I mean, how could she not be? You’re amazing Wally Clark.”
The footballer smiles, wrapping his arms around me before pulling me into his body tightly. Resting my head against his chest, I close my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to relax in his embrace and breathing in deeply to take in the deep oaky scent that is Wally. He rests his head atop of mine and I can feel him squeeze me gently, hands scrunching up the fabric of my t-shirt as he does so.
“Wally Clark, better get yourself in that locker room right now! It’s almost showtime!” I hear the coach yell and my boyfriend sighs, slowly releasing me from his tight hold.
“Now go show everybody just how amazing you are.” I whisper, lovingly gazing up at him.
He nods as though in confirmation with my previous statement, before taking my face in his hands and slowly leaning down to interlock his lips with mine. Delicately and with the remaining hint of nerves racing through his body, his lips move gently with mine. My cheeks feel burning hot compared to the brisk coldness of his hands, caused by the icy fall winds, though I don’t seem to mind. Embracing the sweetness of Wally’s mouth and the tenderness of every move he makes.
It’s with much reluctance that we pull away from one another, however, after catching a glimpse of the coach’s disapproving look, I know the moment is over. Sending the jock to get himself ready with a swift peck to the cheek, him offering me a cheeky wink in return as we both slink off to our respective locker rooms.
The next time I see Wally is when the team makes their grand entrance onto the field. A big cheesy grin rests on my face as I hear the crowds' screams of support, waving flags and homemade banners to cheer on the team. With a few cheers of my own, a couple of the girls and I begin to hype up the crowd even more, jumping wildly and encouraging their yells.
As I shoot a quick glance over to the field, I’m able to spot my boyfriend easily, even with his helmet on. Smiling brightly at me even as he runs towards his team to discuss their play. My heart flutters knowing that he still makes an effort to look for me even as the game is about to begin.
“Alright girls, you know what to do!” Kristina shouts, alerting us to take up our positions and prepare for the first routine of the night.
Noticing the game is about to commence, I feel myself worrying less about messing up the performance, focusing solely on Wally and his uplifting words from moments earlier. Sharing gleeful smiles with my fellow cheerleaders, I can’t help but feel a sense of excitement as the music roars through the stadium.
The next few minutes pass by in a blur, with the Split River football team taking an early victory and our routine flowing perfectly without a single fault or mistake. It’s almost too good to be true.
With our final move only seconds away, I feel the nerves return once more as I boost myself into the hands of the other girls. Their hands wrapped around my ankles and calves to ensure my safety and support whilst in the air. It’s only when I’m hoisted into the air that my stomach twists. Something doesn’t feel right but I’m unable to do anything. Everything happens in slow motion and as I catch sight of the ground looming towards me, I’m hit instantly by the fact that I’m not going to make my mark. I’m not going to land firmly in the hands of the girls beneath me.
I suppose the one good thing about all of this is that I only have a split second to panic before my body plummets to the hard asphalt below my feet. The thump my body makes as it slams against the ground is enough to make anybody squeal.
Cheerleaders scream. Music cuts off.
Then I simply feel nothing.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wally’s the first to notice the chaos unfolding at the side of the field. Distracted by whatever seems to be taking place, he doesn’t notice the opposing team's player bolting towards him. He lands with a grunt, knee buckling and sending a sharp shooting pain through the length of his leg.
As he rises to his feet, he hears the whistle blowing repeatedly, noticing the chaos begin to grow larger. With furrowed brows he finds himself jogging towards the crowd, even if it does cause him a significant amount of pain that he tries desperately to hide.
Pushing through the screaming group of footballers and cheerleaders, it’s at that moment that he sees her. Lay unmoving against the concrete, his heart stops momentarily. Feeling sick to his stomach at the sight of his beautiful girl lifeless, body contorted in ways he didn’t know physically possible.
Wally drops to his knees, students stepping away from him as he does so. Not knowing how to comfort the poor boy in this time of need. The physical pain he is feeling in his leg is nothing compared to the emotional turmoil he is going through right now. Dragging her body on to his knees and cradling her delicately, in fear of breaking her anymore.
With clouded vision, he stares down at his love, body releasing wails and sobs he had never once made in his life. Blood stains his hands, his jersey, his trousers and yet he doesn’t care. Overwhelmed by his grief, watching the color drain from her skin. He doesn’t think anything could be more painful, nothing in his life could compare to the trauma of his girlfriend sprawled out in his arms.
Wally struggles with the ambulance crew as they begin to remove her body, his coach restraining him as they place her in the back of an ambulance. The jock barely acknowledges his coach telling him that he’s been benched as he watches with heartbreak as the ambulance drives away and in his distress all he can do is cry on the sidelines.
With his mom standing behind him, badgering him about winning a scholarship and needing him in the game, Wally feels nothing but rage. All his life, he’d done right by his mom, wanting her to be proud of him, wanting her to acknowledge his successes but right now, he wanted nothing more than to tell her to close her mouth.
Instead, he finds himself marching over to the coach, begging to be put back into the game, arguing that he needs something to take his mind off what he just witnessed and that he is in fact in the correct headspace to win. And somehow, his efforts pay off much to his surprise. Back in the game, Wally has more strength than ever. Fuelled by his rage and his grief.
Whilst he finds it distasteful and disrespectful that the game continues despite his sweet girl losing her life only moments before, he plays with the knowledge that she’d want him to win. She would want him to succeed and so he tries. He tries for her because if not for her, then he has no other reason to keep going. She was the one good thing in his life that kept him from going off the deep and without her, he doesn’t know how he will continue. So for now, he simply focuses on the game.
The sharp pain in his knee grows stronger and with every passing minute he struggles more and more. Trying desperately to ignore it, he claims the ball, running at full speed towards the touchline and yet as he runs directly towards an opposing player, he makes no effort to slow down. Not thinking about the potential consequences of his actions.
He hits the ground with a devastating blow. World shrouded in darkness almost immediately. However, he feels more at peace than he ever has.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I watch with bated breath as Wally tumbles aggressively to the floor, the crack ripples throughout the stadium and I can’t help but gasp. Throwing my hands across my mouth as I fixate on the footballers rushing to his aid. My mind races at one million thoughts per minute, why did he go back out onto the field? Why didn’t he move out of the way? How could he be so reckless?
I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I almost miss the tall jock standing watching over his own body as people hopelessly attempt to resuscitate his cold body. Before I can even react, I’m slowly walking towards him, even with his back towards me I can tell he’s in pain. Hands in his hair, tugging slightly as he comes to the realization of what has happened.
My hands are shaking the closer I get, breath caught in my throat as I swallow the lump in my throat. I’m not entirely sure why I’m scared, perhaps simply afraid of what this means for us now?
“Wally.” My voice is small, timid. Hands clasped together over my chest as I anxiously await his reaction.
As though he doesn’t believe it, Wally’s body goes stiff. When he finally faces me, his mouth falls open in shock, eyes holding the same softness that they did in life and I smile hesitantly. He’s the first to break the tension, scooping me up in his arms and holding me tighter than he ever has before.
“I’m sorry Wally, I’m so sorry, I promise I didn’t mean for this to happen.” My voice breaks as I speak, tears staining my cheeks. “I should’ve tried harder and then this would never have happened. You’d still be alive. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Darling it’s okay. We’re together now, yeah?” Wally states, placing his arms on my shoulders as he fully takes me in, holding me at arm’s length as if he’s checking I’m okay. Not that it really matters now.
“What were you thinking? Going back out was so stupid and irresponsible and reck-”
“I didn’t want to let you down.” Wally whispers, eyes falling to his feet in shame. “I wanted to make it all worth it, I wanted you to be proud of me because I knew you’d be looking down on me.”
“Wally, I-”
“I don’t think I could live without you sweetheart. I don’t think I’d want to.” He admits, bringing one hand to my face, thumb stroking my cheek softly. “Seeing you there, all limp and lifeless, I didn’t just lose you. I lost something within myself too.”
“I’m so sorry.” I sob, allowing myself to release all the emotions built up inside of me.
“I still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.” Wally confesses, smiling adoringly at me. “I still do.”
A quiet giggle escapes my mouth, pulling the tall boy towards me and pressing my lips roughly to his. Wanting, no, needing to feel him against me. To feel the way his mouth dances with mine and the way his hands tenderly caress my waist. I just need him.
“So where do we go from here?” The jock questions, our foreheads restings against one another as we catch our breath
“I don’t know, but as long as you’re with me, I don’t really care.”
housewife jackie with a butch reader thoughts?
loves dressing up for you... ive said this in probably every housewife jackie thought but it's true!! even if it's just her grabbing your shirt to put on for a lazy afternoon, she loves watching your eyes light up in recognition and when you compliment how good she looks ^^ likes the simple act of dressing up for a date. likes how you guys end up matching sometimes even when it wasn't planned. loves helping you get dressed, she's always got a gummy smile on her face as she buttons your shirt or ties your tie or smooths out your jacket that she steals at the end of the night.
jackie who loves when you get in touch with your feminine side in your own way :( you help her get in touch with her masculine side and it's just a great bonding experience 😊
she's a.....i dont even know what texter. not a double texter, not a triple texter, but a hundred texter. literally sends you so many texts throughout the day of random things like what she's doing or how much she misses you or selfies of her hand with new rings on it cause she's shopping 😁 you love it. it can get annoying when ur at work and keep getting out ur phone every 5 seconds because she's such a fast responder (only for you), but she makes you smile so much.
running your hands through jackie's hair as you give her a hot bath, taking care of her after she took care of you. gently scrubbing her body and massaging her legs because she was on her feet all day (so were you, but this is your girl! she deserves it more.
shy!butch!reader who appreciates when jackie talks for them in public :) always walking into shops first so you're not the center of attention, always being the one to ask questions to the clerk, always holding your hand and gently telling you to lead the way, or even leading it for you. butch with anxiety who always needs to talk with jackie before a phone call, going over what to say, and jackie who reassures you that it's gonna be fine, and even offers to write down prompts or something in case you forget what to say :(
possessive!jackie and butch who's awkward with affection :) she's always tugging you closer in public. she's the femme who hugs you from behind and places kisses on your ear in checkout lanes... she loves how you tense up and flush when she grabs your hand, loves how you can barely make eye contact with her when she's close to your face and kisses you, loves how you're so awkward when trying to show her how much you love her but you can't get the words out because she's so pretty and you just don't know what to say. it's worse in public because she thinks everyone wants you... she needs your eyes on HERS, and will use her finger to move your chin so you're facing her instead of left (ur just nervous 😭). she's always playin' footsie under tables and reaching across said table to rub your arm as you guys eat together. i think her favorite thing is when she verbally gets possessive and says some shit that makes you snort or choke on your food/drink.
Man, I've been obsessed with the isekai trope lately. I've been imagining a scenario where the reader gets isekai'd into a yandere romance story as a side character. You're not the main character or a love interest. You replaced a nameless character who was solely created in the story to be killed off by the yandere love interests to further the plot.
After realizing that's the role you took on, you devise a plan to re write the story to keep yourself alive.
In the official plot, your death was the cause of getting too close to the main character. Your positive relationship with them was considered a threat to the yanderes, and so they wiped you out of the picture.
So, as any semi intelligent individual would do, you decided to avoid the main character completely.
I'd like to imagine the reader wasn't well informed of this story, didn't know who the yans were, and accidentally befriended them before they even got a chance to develop any feelings for the main character. You jumped into their lives before the events that led into the original storyline. Earning their trust and unfortunately causing some peculiar emotions in them to develop.
This fucks up the whole plot. I mean, that was your plan. You just weren't trying to fuck it up so bad that you unintentionally attracted multiple yans who decided you were the perfect match for them. You were a joy to be around. You were far more intertwined in their lives than the previous main character ever was. It was generic with them and their story. A boring, "yan see's their darling from afar for the first time and falls in love on sight." Type plot.
But with you, it was so much more personal. They grew to love you for way more than just your looks. They got to know you as a person before any sort of feelings of devotion could form.
This made their efforts to claim you so much worse than they ever were in the original plot. They were much more sinister and brutal. They usually only did massive amounts of stalking, blackmail, and the occasional murder when it came to the canon story, whereas they went all out for you.
Kidnap, murder, torture, blackmail, stalking, theft, harassment, etc. Everyone around you was a threat in their eyes. Everyone around you didn't deserve you.
By the time you realized what you've done, what you've created, its far too late to fix your mistake. You attempted to break off the friendships, avoiding them at all costs, closing yourself off and spending your time trying to find a way back to your original world.
But they don't take kindly to that. Not after everything you guys have been through. Before you could find the key back home to your world, you'd be whisked away, having your new world be the confines of your yans humble abode, away from society.
Bonus option: You attempt to bring the original main character back into the plot in hopes they could redirect the yandere back into chasing them and get them off your back. But why would they need this stranger? They don't know them like they know you. And they could care less to even try to get to know them. So, the original main character ends up taking on the role you were supposed to be. The side character who was meant to die to further the plot.
You're the main character now.
prompt hc 43. with jackie taylor x transmasc reader 🙏😁
okay reader has top surgery btw :3
“c’mon get in with me! it’ll be fun!” your girlfriend squealed in the bathtub, the bubbles almost spilling out the top. brushing your teeth, you just shook your head and chuckled at her. jackie knows you’ll give into her begging eventually, so she keeps nagging you (and it finally works!)
you spat into the sink and started to undress, your shirt coming off first. you felt jackie’s eyes on you. “you’re staring.” you slipped off your boxers. “i can’t help it.”
jackie giggled when you finally sat down in the warm soapy water, immediately putting bubbles on your face and head. she began staring at you again, except the smile on her face was bigger. “what?”
“you’re so handsome.” her hands went down to your flat, bubbly chest. you giggled softly, trying to play off you getting flustered by splashing her. “y/n, stoppp!” she shrieked playfully as you flailed your arms in the water like a dolphin. by the time you stopped, jackie already had a pout on her face. “you’re mean.”
“what if i wash your hair to make up for it?”
“and give me a cuddle.”
“you got yourself a deal, babe.”
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