Batfam X Neglected Reader

jackie in new york exploring her new life and independence with reader !!!!!

mueheheheh jackie meeting you in nyc and realizing some things about herself…

probably is a little drunk on wine when she makes her first move, dancing in her rented apartment after dinner

jackie never thought she was gay, but this was something she was very sure of……being her first time OH MY DAYS

moving in with her and getting jobs to align your schedules as well as possible! she wants to spend every single waking moment with you im not even joking

suuuper giddy to introduce you to all her friends as well (who end up loving you just as much as she does)

jackie exploring a whole new section of herself she never knew existed, she was finally free from all the small town everyone-knows-everything bullshit, and could just find her true self with you right by her side

constantly insists that you do stuff to keep your relationship healthy and happy, going on a mandatory date every week, which surprisingly does help…….it’s not even always some expensive, excessive stuff, mostly a nice coffee and walk, a pottery class or simply a homemade dinner! she makes some mean alfredo, im sure.

Now I feel like I gotta ask- Jackie with reader who has a tdick?

- 💀

maybe im biased but i think all of them would go crazy on tdick.

feel like she'd be the most curious about it, asking you all these lowkey personal questions like asking you how it feels when you get hard or if you can even get a boner and if you can jerk it off.... 😭

jackie who buys you grinders for your tdick, making you grind on the silicone pussy to tease you but she ends up getting jealous of how you fuck it lmfao. also she's just mesmerized by how shiny your slick is and how your tdick pokes in and out of the hole. jackie who gets you one of those realistic prosthetics that attaches to your tdick so she can blow you. she loves holding eye contact with you as she licks the head.

but she very much prefers sucking your own dick.

if you're not dysphoric about it, she will absolutely stick her tongue inside while her fingers jerk off your tdick. her chin always ends up covered in your cum.

likes it when you wear packers just so she can play with it in public. tracing the outline of it while you're sitting outside for lunch, smiling innocently at you when you ask her what she's doing.. adjusting it for you when she notices how it looks like you have a boner and chuckling when she brushes it against your tdick. she also likes jerking it off like a real dick.

jackie and reader who has had phallo or meta......hnghgh.

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

You know...I was thinking about ABA and Paracelsus role swap.. Paracelsus getting addicted to the unique components of ABA's blood and seemingly wanting more initially hating that but then...starts to slip into this fantasy of twisted love and despite what he says secretly doesn't want to leave ABA's side.

ABA who doesn't question it because clearly the weapons seems to know more about people. ABA who tries her best to talk her way out of fights to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. ABA who doesn't fully understand what Paracelsus is rambling about at times but goes with it to keep the weapon preoccupied.

I just think we need more of that.

can I be 🦌 anon?

was wondering if you had any thoughts for a jackie's sister! reader x any character really that you think would fit, prob shauna honestly...

especially if she was a younger sister (like 16)

- 🦌

a/n: welcome, 🦌 anon! i think we all need fluff in these trying times until the 4th episode comes out 😔 so like…what about some precrash!shauna and taylor!reader thoughts? rlly missing the girls when they were happy and not traumatized :(( sorry if it seems short!! (sfw)

thinking about being jackie’s younger sister who still babies you (even though you two are like a year apart -__-) but it's all in good affection as she always wanted a little sister! she's definitely the kind of older sister who adores you with her whole heart and just oh so supportive ☹️ always looking out for you and just dragging you along to everything and anywhere (despite your wishes on just wanting to stay home). specially if you're on the timid side/the exact opposite of the jackie taylor — you two do share the same qualities that don't go unnoticed by people.

even on jackie's outings with shauna, you're tagging along too that it's one of the reasons why shauna has developed a soft spot on you and you it amplifies your crush on her, thinking she's so cool and pretty. you obvs don't tell jackie because that's her best friend ofc.

you two sharing the same interests 😞 like perhaps both of you having a passion for literature or photography — shauna who always pitches your ideas for her writing :(( you also trying to impress shauna more by liking her music taste (i see all those alt rocks bands in her room) listening to every track and trying to use it as topic to talk about.

oh, oh! sleepovers would be a constant thing. jackie who ends up being on the phone with jeff midway into the night, leaving you and shauna alone painting each other's nails while watching a movie and just softly giggling and smiling to each other.

you think she doesn't notice how you start fumbling over your words a bit whenever she's so close yet she does. she smiles to herself but doesn't comment anything but rather writes it down on her journal when she reflects on her day.

feel like shauna's way of dropping hints of liking you in return is by staring with her big, brown eyes. you always feel her soft gaze on yours during in class or either during practice. even sharing her writing and she has the biggest smile when your compliment on her pieces.

maybe shauna admitting to you that she isn't genuinely interested in soccer, she loves jackie and the team though! but soccer wasn't in her heart in the first place.

and whether if you're interested in soccer or not, shauna would take the time to practice with you just to have you around :))

jackie who has her suspicions of something going on between you two but brushes it off instantly 😭

YANDERE BATFAM × NEGLECTED READER!

- Hush now crybaby.

\\Part 1// \\ Part 2//

SYPNOSIS: After your death nothing felt the same.

Warning: Gore, death, violence, blood.

Everything happened in a flash, you couldn't even remembered what had hit you so hard to make your entire body run this high on adrenaline. You could feel your every pulse and the pounding on your head makes it hard to think properly.

When the clouds in your head finally clears you finally opened your eye's and looked down at your feet, your lifeless body laying on the ground.

Blood was profusely seeping out from the bash you received after the impact of the car... The car had hit you so hard that you flew and unfortunately your head landed on a fire hydrant.

The impact was so powerful that it left an open wound on your head... Everybody stopped to tape the situation not a single soul decided to even checked if you were still breathing.

You watched as the ambulance took your cold body. You watched as the medical staff's tried their best to wake you up. You watched as your own blood father hang up the call from just hearing your name, not even inquiring them further- He acted like your name was some curse.

You sit there by your body side, holding your own hands. Taking the little nursery book by the side table you began to read, you felt a little comfort but you can't complaint even a little was better than nothing.

The heart monitor began to beep indicating that you were no longer breathing. Staffs runs in trying to bring back your heart beat yet nothing worked you died that day.

You died because none of your guardians wanted to be involved with you... The hospital needed them to agree to a surgery yet since nobody or even if they picked up they just hang up without listening further.

You stood outside the morgue waiting patiently for your family to retrieve your body. You've been standing there for hour's, for someone who doesn't have a heart anymore it ache alot.

When your family finally arrived they were shocked, Damian was abit caught off guard, Bruce with the same face just more disappointed, Dick in tears, Tim was too sleepy to even react much... Jason was not present.

Barbara and Stephanie were crying holding your tiny cold hand's in theirs apologising, Duke was distraught and Cass you could tell she was uncomfortable.

Even during your funeral you stood beside your physical body, stroking your cheek and wishing yourself well. The funeral was small just the batfamily, your body was buried near the manor with high security.

Even your own mother didn't attend your funeral which made you frown which wasn't even your intention, your intention was to cry but not a single drop of tears could even fall.

Fortunately your mother did came but weeks after your funeral burst inside the manor and attack yout father. She was a mess, her mascara was ruined from the tears that won't stop flowing, her hair was extremely mess which was new. Your mother was a fashionable woman and seeing her this wild made you sad.

"You Piece Of Shit! OUR daughter died! How could you not inform me my babygirl is dead! I wanted to see her- To say goodbye!" Your mother yelled as she slap Bruce across his face. Bruce stays silent enduring the pain she was conflicting upon him.

"I left her with you so she could have something! How could You! She was so happy to have a father yet you let her chase your love and affection?! Even if you couldn't see her as your daughter why not call me??! I would have taken her with me!"

"...She was my world Bruce! My daughter... My baby... Now I can't even say goodbye. Im terrible, I should have been there..."

Your mother's grip on Bruce loosen as she fell onto the floor, sobbing into her hand's.

You slowly walk towards your mother, you wished you could have hug her in that moment for her to feel the warmth but you were cold.. Freezing, you don't think she would be comfortable.

Instead of hugging her you sit beside her holding her right hand, as you lean onto her...

"Im sorry mom, forgive me it's not father's fault... I was being emotional and being emotional makes me stupid...Maybe this is why nobody love's me"

Ever since that day Bruce became worst. You were haunting the manor watching as everybody tried to cope with your death.

You felt abit happy to be death, afterall you felt as your family finally noticed you. And all it took for them to love you was for you to die!

But it was tragic to watch your allready insane family become... This.

Dick was now sleeping on your bed every night, even when others tried to interfere he didn't budge. Holding onto the dress you wore that day and mumbling on and on about how he would take you to the park if you just come back.

Jason was also affected as much as it shocked, he was smoking more and barely even coming to the manor inorder to avoid anything that reminded of you.

Tim health was getting worst, he didn't even have the heart to look into any case at times and would just stare at blankly talking to himself and imagining that you were there.

Damian didn't show any weakness to anyone else he didn't show that he was greatly grieving. Nobody had a clue that he was trying to bring your soul inside your favourite doll. He would talk to himself which was alot tame than Tim but he was indeed speaking about how he will force your soul inside the doll just so everything could went back to normal.

Barbara was neglecting her job as Oracle. She doesn't have the energy to do anything, without your presence everything felt dead to her and if everything is dead what's the point of trying to salvage it.

Duke was taking it very well, talking about his feelings and making sure to clean your grave everyone Saturday, replacing the flower as much as he could... He was obsessed with your grave. At times he would sit there for hours just staring at it...

Stephanie wasn't as cheery as she was and even when she genuinely smiled it faid quickly... She kept getting nightmares of your body inside that morgue as a result she can't deal with crime including death in it. She gets reminded of you and when that happened she went into panick mode.

Cass on the other hand tried her best to move on unlike the others. But sometimes you would watch her as she entered your room and leaving quickly, it was as if she was trying to imagine you inside your room solely.

Bruce took it the worst, he would take his pent up guilt and anger out on any criminal, he even broke a couple bone of a guy who just rob a store with a knife. It was as if he was ignoring his own and the most important rule.

Silently blaming himself. He thought that Jason death would be the end of death in the family but that wasn't the case.

Alfred was heavily affected as well. He knew he was also in the wrong for favouring your other siblings while trying his best to avoid you during your time on Earth as a human. He would bake your favourite food and left it at your grave.

Alfred also had to stop the family from bringing your rotting corpse and dipping it into thr Lazarus pit. He knew you wouldn't like the idea of being brought back plus your body was too old to be able to be put together again.

Crime rate was raising because none of the family members were willing to talk about your death and keeping to themselves only. You could only watch as sigh as they tried to bring you back to life over and over.

The body inside the casket which was buried sixth feet underground was a simple decoy.

Your corpse have been rotting slowly inside a special room, where Bruce tried to bring you back somehow. You couldn't help but get teary just by looking at your corpse.

It was skinny and extremely pale... The stretch was horrible... Your body was clearly rotting away. It was not fun witnessing your organ being taken from your body just so your suddenly crazy/obessed father could bring you back.

when the sun came up

Summary:  “So,” Jackie trails off sheepishly. “You, uh– You know how vampire’s need blood…?” A/N: the "jackie's a vampire 😍" fic in question

“What are you being so weird about, Jackie?” You ask finally, getting irritated by her constant glances. She looks surprised, almost as if she truly believed you wouldn’t notice. With a roll of your eyes, you lean back on the chair, setting your phone down on her desk as you give her your full attention. Jackie starts fiddling anxiously with her fingers as she glances around the room in a pathetic attempt to feign innocence.

Acting was never her strong suit, expressions always unconvincing and exaggerated; More reminiscent of a cartoon character than a real person. Despite her failure, there’s still something undeniably charming underneath it all even as Jackie’s awkward energy ends her ruse before it can even begin. While she hasn’t succeeded in fooling you she’s definitely succeeded in getting your attention.

Watching Jackie attempting to shake your attention is bizarre, to say the least. Never once have you seen her shy away from soaking up every bit of approval and attention you give her. Yet she seems almost eager for you to move on to something else which makes you grow more concerned by the second. You’re filled with a strange mixture of curiosity and unease, both vying for your attention.

“Jackie?” You prompt again, smiling invitingly at her as she finally meets your eyes.

She clears her throat awkwardly, fingers resting against her legs as she starts rolling the edge of her shorts back and forth between her fingers. “So,” Jackie trails off sheepishly. “You, uh– You know how vampires need blood…?”

You nod your head, lips twitching as you suppress your smile. You know exactly where this is heading. “Yeah.”

“Could I… Could I have some?” Jackie asks, quickly flushing with embarrassment. She watches you closely, hope evident on her face.

“Like… from me?” You ask slowly. Unlike Jackie, you were good at feigning innocence.

“Yeah. Just like a little bit,” She pleads, gesturing with her hands as she holds her thumb and index finger just barely apart. “You won't even know it was gone, promise.” 

She's utterly fixated on you, staring at your neck like it holds the secrets to the universe. You hum in consideration, enjoying the way Jackie squirms in desperation as you pretend to think it over. After a moment you hold your arm out invitingly toward her and she's across the room and in your lap before you can blink, literally. 

You forget just how strong and fast she's become, and sometimes you think she does too. The chair rocks dangerously on its back two legs as Jackie slides in your lap. You close your eyes in wait for the inevitable crash but Jackie's reflexes are just fast enough to plant her foot firmly, sending you crashing back forward as the chair settles. It rocks ominously for a second before stilling, Jackie quickly taking the chance to scoot up your legs. 

Your hands rest loosely on her hips as you try to make sense of what just happened, just a hair too fast for your mind to fully make sense of. You can feel the thrum of your heartbeat in your fingertips as your heart races through your chest. Jackie makes an apologetic noise as she slips her arms between your back and the chair, pulling herself snugly against you. 

You squeeze her hips in a gentle sign of affection as you slip your hands up the back of her shirt, wrapping your arms tightly around her bare back. If it has the side effect of pulling her shirt up, well that's no one's business but your own. You hear a snort of laughter that you'll know she'll deny later– and threaten to tell people about the incident if you don't keep it to yourself– which makes you grin as you bury your head into her neck. You breathe in the familiar scent of her perfume, slowly relaxing back against the chair as it calms your racing heart. 

You bite lightly at her neck, barely grazing the skin before you hear a petulant noise coming from Jackie. “That's my job,” She complains, slapping at your shoulder as she leans back and pulls her neck out of reach. 

“Oh? Is it?” You tease, a smile splitting your face as you watch her. 

She nods eagerly, just a hint of her fangs peeking out of her smile. Your eyes narrow at the sight, leaning forward to get a closer look. She practically preens as she widens her smile, clearly appreciating your admiration of her fangs.

You reach up to cup her jaw and Jackie immediately nuzzles her face into your palm as she closes her eyes with a contented noise. You roll your eyes fondly as you end up supporting the weight of her head, adjusting your grip to press your thumb against her lips.

Jackie just barely peeks her eyes open as she presses a kiss against your thumb, the beginning of a question forming on her face. You press your thumb against one of her sharp fangs, sighing quietly as it pierces the skin and draws a drop of blood. You watch her expression closely as her tongue flicks out to taste the blood, teasing at the edge of the cut as she lazily draws the remaining drops in her mouth.

You shudder involuntarily as she swallows, the intimacy of the action catching you off guard. You’re not sure that you’ll ever get used to the sight of her drinking your blood. "Tastes good," Jackie finally says, licking her lips as she pulls away.

Jackie’s gaze flits down to your neck, her eyes filled with longing. She leans forward and inhales deeply as she buries her face into the crook of your neck. Her hand cups the other side as she tilts your head, her warm breath caressing your ear. “Please?” She whispers, voice a soft plea tinged with her desperation.

Jackie's lips just barely graze your skin, sending shivers down your spine as you feel the gentle pressure from the tips of her fangs. “Go ahead, Jackie,” You say, hissing in surprise as she doesn’t hesitate to sink her teeth in. She presses herself impossibly closer to you with a muffled moan, her fingers clenched tightly at your shirt as she greedily sucks at the wound. You thread your fingers loosely through her hair, cradling her head as you relax limply against the chair. 

“Fuck,” You murmur slowly, tilting your head back enticingly as Jackie makes use of the available space. With each drop of blood she takes from you a heady mix of exhilaration and vulnerability washes over you, both intoxicating and unnerving at the same time. It’s a strange intimacy, a connection borne in the exchange of life; the knowledge that your blood is what sustains her, what gives her the strength she wields over you. 

It should make you feel weak to be entirely at her mercy, but you’ve never felt stronger than you do when Jackie drinks from you. You revel in her desire for you, eagerly embracing the weight of her unending hunger.

You'd majorly psyched yourself out the first time she'd asked this of you, thoughts of her teeth digging into your flesh had left you such a nervous wreck that your hands were visibly shaking as she descended on you. You were pleasantly surprised at just how good it felt once you got past the initial bite. There was barely a difference from Jackie's more possessive moments, intent to mark you up at the slightest sign of interest from someone else. You were sure that it could hurt if she wanted it to, but your girlfriend was steadfastly gentle in everything she did. With her arms wrapped around you, even the act of feeding became an intimate exchange, another bond that only the two of you would ever share.

You take a shaky breath as Jackie drinks her fill, trying your best to ignore her breathy noises of enjoyment in favor of keeping your eyes open. You get more lightheaded the longer she's attached herself to you, her lack of the need for air never more apparent than in these moments. She pulls away as you begin to slump back in the chair, soothing the bite with her tongue as she savors every last drop. You blink wearily up at her, faced with the impossible task of keeping your eyes open.

Jackie stands up happily, watching herself in the mirror over your shoulder as she licks at her thumb and rubs the stray blood off her face. A quiet laugh escapes your lip, more of an exhale than a sound. “Messy,” You murmur with a weak smile on your face.

“Shut up,” Jackie defends, pulling on your hand as she tries to coax you to your feet. You let her pull you up, but quickly slump into her arms as your shaky legs betray you. Jackie grunts as she catches you, grunting dramatically in exertion even as she effortlessly guides you back to her bed.

She climbs up excitedly to straddle your lap as you recline back against the pillows. You make a surprised noise as she leans down and kisses you, pulling back after a moment when she realizes you aren’t reciprocating. “Y/N,” Jackie whines, pouting down at you. 

You lazily shake your head, not bothering to open your eyes. “Too much,” You accuse weakly.

“Did not,” Jackie protests. “You’re fine. Look!” She lifts your hand pointedly, staring in dismay as it falls limply back to the bed.

“Oh,” She murmurs sheepishly. “That's… That’s my bad, really.” 

You make a vaguely amused noise in response that turns into a contented sigh as Jackie settles down on top of you. She buries her head in your neck, placing a tender kiss against the bite mark she’s left as she maneuvers your arms around to wrap around her.

back on my tmasc nat thoughts because i love him. being so attentive after his top surgery, like he could be saying "ow" from the slightest wince and you're already rushing to his side

you honestly can't stop admiring him, maybe he's in denial of not seeing the changes yet you completely reassure him :((( getting so flustered at his voice getting deeper and raspier, especially from the hair growth too UGH

⋆ 🍓

i like to think that since hes Italian, he started getting way more body hair after starting T. nat who whines about it because his roots are even darker, and he has to bleach his hair more >.>

also, trans or not, nat with body hair 🤤🤤 nat with fuzz on his stomach....nat with hairy arms and hairy legs... nat with that prepubescent mustache that every tmasc guy has a phase of. Yeah.

feel like he'd love the amount of attention you give him after surgery, blushing while telling you that he can get up on his own but pouting when you actually give him space. nat who loves being taken care of!! gosh he's so thankful that you have everything ready for him back at home... his favorite pillow already fluffed up and his cozy clothes ready for him to put on. he loves you so much.

nat crying because of the pain :( he moved the wrong way and hated the way the compression binder rubbed against his scars and just lost it, breathing out heavily while trying to control his tears but he ends up calling for you, face twisted up in pain that makes you almost cry. ur so much more attentive after that, literally any slight "ouch" from him and ur asking a million questions to see if he's alright 😭

nat whos slightly disappointed at how it looks post op because all he wants to do is be shirtless all the time but it's all bruised and he's so nitpicky about it but i think he's just in slight denial of this huge change he went thru. of course he's happy tho!! and all those times u reassured him that it'll look good once it heals helps him so much :(

also thinking of him working out after it heals too 🤤 taking progress pics and sending them to you whenever he goes to the gym...

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 🤭

Being the “it” couple with Jackie Taylor

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

Pairing ! Jackie Taylor x gn!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First Jackie headcannons

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