「Un」 Fair Series ⸺ Masterlist ִֶָ

JACKIE TAYLOR.ᐟ

➤ jackie taylor x loser!fem!reader hcs

⤷ cw: no crash au, bullying, nothing romantic happens yet

✦ part two (coming soon...)

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── .✦ jackie who always had her eye on you. she was worried about you since she had never seen you with any friends, and the only people who approached you only did so to shove you against the lockers. the need to protect others came natural to her, though she chose to wait a bit with you. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who regretted her decision the moment she heard how jeff and his friends talked about you. she was used to the boys talking horrible about almost everyone at school, yet it didn't mean she liked their immature behavior. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who ignored her boyfriend's "warnings" about you and tried talking to you one day in class. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who couldn't understand why she felt so nervous to talk to you. what if you thought she was messing with you? she tried not to overthink about it too much—it was only making her even more nervous and it was very likely for you to notice her weird behavior—. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who quietly sat down next to you in spanish class and stared at you for fifteen minutes, her eyes not once leaving the pen you were holding onto and using to draw on your left hand, before eventually speaking up, . ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who thought asking you about the upcoming project was going to be a great way of getting to know you. truth be told, she had watched way too many rom-coms where the popular one asks the nerdy one to study and they end making out instead. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie whose eyes widened the moment she questioned herself on why she thought about those movies. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who managed to talk to you without making her stutter noticeable, though having a hard time maintaining eye contact. the sentence "i was wondering if you could help me out with the project. maybe we could even do it together?" had never made the girl shake in her seat until that moment. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who felt a pang in her chest the moment you asked her if she was joking, her answer—"no! of course not"—immediately leaving her lips without any sort of hesitation. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who swore the class was way too short than it usually was. did she seriously spent that long gaining the courage to talk to you? ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who didn't help with your skepticism as she said a quick goodbye before grabbing her stuff and rapidly walking out of the classroom. what you didn't know was how she immediately cursed herself under her breath for acting so stupid in front of you. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who was dying to see you again and show you a more normal behavior, and whose wants were accomplished—yet not in the way she expected—. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who didn't hesitate in defending you the moment she saw the way a guy pinned you against the locker and snatched your portapros off your head, anger bubbling inside of her as she watched the asshole snap your headphones in half. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

"hey! what is wrong with you?" she immediately asked, rushing over to where you were and pushing the guy away from you. "you're going to buy her new ones, got it?" she added, her tone firm and leaving no room for doubt.

"whatever, jackie." the guy simply said, rolling his eyes and walking away from the scene—clearly not taking the girl's words seriously—.

── .✦ jackie who didn't want to leave you alone for the rest of the day. she needed to make sure you were okay, even if that meant following you around like a lost puppy. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who understood why you were quieter than usual. not only were you not used to having her presence around but you were also really mad about what just happened. jackie knew how much you used your headphones and how much you enjoyed music. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who knew she had to face a very confused jeff after school. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

"so... i heard something went down earlier. what exactly happened?" he asked her, shifting on his bed and getting closer to jackie to rest his head on her stomach. "and what were you thinking?" he quickly continued, clearly feeling worried about his girlfriend.

"she's a nice girl. what do you all have against her?" she snapped, looking down at the boy with a heartbroken gaze.

── .✦ jackie who couldn't wrap her mind around jeff's "reasons"; they didn't even make any sense! she tried to make him see how childish he was acting yet he wouldn't listen, which ended up in the couple having an argument. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who started getting closer to you. whether it was small talking in the hallways or sitting down with you at lunch, she loved spending time with you. you were such a kind soul and she truly wanted to get to know you more. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who didn't care how many times she had to swear she wasn't pulling a prank on you, she'd do whatever was necessary to make you feel comfortable around her. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who immediately felt oh so happy the moment you looked out for her to show her the new spider-man 2099 comic you got. she didn't know shit about spider-man, especially not that one, but seeing how excited you were to talk about it was the only thing that mattered to her. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who wasn't expecting the yellowjackets to bring up her new friendship with you. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

"how's it going with your uh... little friend?" tai asked jackie, clearly trying her best to hold back a smirk—though her tone of voice said it all. "great!" she quickly replied, looking at her teammates with a bright smile plastered on her face.

"isn't she the reason why you fought with jeff?" shauna asked, not realizing how easily her words could get misunderstood. van couldn't help but let out a laugh; the rest of the girls looking at each other—confused. "uh yeah. i just don't get why he has to be such a dick sometimes." the locker room went silent again. the girls had seen you around and most of them started greeting you after seeing how already close you were to jackie.

"i mean, shit, the two of you are really close." nat intervened, scratching the back of her head before jolting as lottie smacked her shoulder. "we're happy you two are friends. she seems—... interesting." lottie spoke up, a tight smile forming on her lips.

── .✦ jackie who didn't understand why her friends were acting so weird about you; she couldn't stop thinking about what nat said. the two of you had indeed gotten really close to each other, not even discussing about the spanish project anymore, but what was wrong with that? she knew there was something else her team was referring to, and a small part of her knew what it was. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who couldn't stop thinking about you. you were her friend, of course it was normal for certain stuff to remind her of you. whether it was something as obvious as a comic book or as simple as a dinosaur plushie, you suddenly invaded her mind. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who didn't think twice when she saw the new audio techina model; the new headphones worth $800. she knew you were going to lose your mind and she couldn't wait to see you again. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ jackie who started realizing how giddy she felt when she thought about you and your cute mannerisms. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Hi may I please make a request? Neglectful Batfam (especially Dick, I don't know if the others would say it) always tell reader something along the line of "I'm sorry, you understand right?" after yet another forgotten promise of family time etc. Reader, genuinely yearning for the Batfam's affection, feels hurt but always tries to understand and makes excuses for them. It's only their best friend, a fellow civilian, who insists over and over again that reader deserves better, that no matter how well-intentioned the Batfam still does neglect reader, etc. One day the two have a huge fight over this and reader's best friend storms off only to be kidnapped by a rogue. Reader gets kidnapped too, but to their horror discovers finds that the rogue *also* has the Batfam and tells reader to choose: Their best friend or their family? While the Batfam takes it for granted that reader would choose them, while reader's best friend despairs that especially after their fight there's no way reader would've... Surprising even their own self, reader turns towards Batfam to say, genuinely apologetic, "I'm sorry, you understand right?"

Bonus the aftermath when the Batfam has successfully freed themselves and goes to confront reader, who's still *genuinely* happy about it but more preoccupied making up with their best friend uwu

Family dinner was scheduled for 7 PM.

You arrived at 6:55 with homemade cookies, wearing the sweater Damian said he liked. The manor was dark. Empty. Again.

A text came through at 7:48.

Dick: “Sorry, patrol ran long. Rain check? You understand, right?”

You sat at the dinner table alone, the cookies cooling beside your untouched plate. You did understand. You always did.

Bruce had work. Jason had intel. Tim passed out at his desk. Cass was chasing a lead. And Dick—your big brother figure, your once-upon-a-time constant—was off somewhere saving strangers with a grin while forgetting you.

They didn’t mean to hurt you. They were heroes. Protecting the city.

You understood… right?

Your best friend didn’t.

“You keep letting them walk all over you,” they snapped one night, pacing your bedroom. “You act like it’s okay just because they say sorry. It’s not.”

“They’re trying,” you defended, voice small.

“No. You’re trying. You’re always the one reaching out. Always the one forgiving. And they just assume you’ll wait around like some backup plan. You deserve better, [Y/N]. You deserve someone who puts you first.”

The words stung. Worse than anything the Batfam ever forgot.

And so you yelled. Defensive. Hurt. “They’re my family!”

“And I’m not?!”

The silence was louder than the shouting.

Your best friend’s face crumbled, lips trembling with words they refused to say. They grabbed their coat and left.

They didn’t even slam the door.

You hadn’t spoken since the fight.

And then they went missing.

Reported last seen two nights ago, no signs of struggle—just gone.

Panic cracked your chest open. You reached out to the Batfam for help. They said they were working on it. That you should rest. That they were close.

You didn’t rest.

Then you went missing.

Black bag over your head. Cold cement under your knees. And when the bag was pulled off—

You weren’t alone.

The rogue—a madman with a grudge against Gotham’s capes—had caged you, your best friend, and the entire Batfam. Their gear had been stripped, the cells lined with suppression tech. They were helpless.

And the rogue? Smiling like a devil.

“One choice,” he said. “Your best friend or your family. One lives. The other dies. You have sixty seconds.”

Your best friend’s face paled.

“Don’t choose me,” they whispered. “You don’t have to—I’m sorry for what I said. I love you, I just… I wanted you to see how much you’re worth.”

The Batfam said nothing at first.

Then Dick muttered, “C’mon, kid… you know who your real family is.”

Tim nodded solemnly. “We raised you.”

Jason, gruff: “You’re one of us.”

Bruce said your name like it was a command.

They all assumed.

Of course you’d choose them.

You turned toward them—quiet, trembling.

And then you smiled, sad and soft.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice breaking. “You understand, right?”

They froze.

Your eyes were already on your best friend, who looked like they'd just been punched in the heart.

“You’re choosing me?”

“I’m saving you,” you whispered. “I’m sorry we fought. I’m sorry I made you feel second. You never were.”

Tears slipped down their cheeks. They reached for you through the bars. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

The rogue cackled. “What a twist!”

He didn’t get to finish the show. Because a moment later, Bat-tech sparked. Cass had pretended to be unconscious long enough to hack the suppressors. Bruce broke the cell doors. Jason tackled the rogue to the ground with a crunch.

Everyone got out alive.

But something shifted.

The aftermath

The Batfam came to see you the next day—bloody, bandaged, guilty.

Dick sat beside you, quiet for once.

“I didn’t realize how much we’ve been… neglecting you,” he admitted. “I guess I assumed you'd always be there.”

“I always was,” you said, no bitterness in your tone. “Even when you weren’t.”

He flinched.

Bruce looked at you. “You made the right choice.”

“I know,” you said, smiling as your best friend walked into the room with warm soup and a shy wave.

You lit up. "You're here!"

They blinked. “Of course. I owed you soup.”

You reached for their hand and held it like an anchor.

The Batfam watched from the corner, speechless, as you giggled softly with your best friend—glowing in a way you hadn’t around them for a long time.

You weren’t angry.

You were just finally choosing you.

And someone who had never once needed to say “you understand, right?”—because they did.

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

Hi can you do more Jackie trans masc comfort? It was my first time reading about someone like me in any sort of writing and I thought it was amazing thank you

ofc! im glad you saw yourself in my writing ^.^ that means a lot! i hardly see any butch readers on here, let alone transmasc, so i try to incoperate them into my work a lot!

these are just scattered thoughts i have of jackie with a transmasc bf, not really in any order.

· · ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ · ·

i think she'd jump at the opportunity to do your tshot. if you're perfectly fine with doing it yourself, she'd just watch you as you do it, smiling up at you so proudly after you're done. but even then, i think she'd try and ask if she could do it just once. she thinks it'd be romantic and sensual in a way. being able to do it for you would mean a lot to her i think :( mainly because of how much you trust her to do it. and you know she buys you all that shit you need for it. if ur running low on needles, she knows even if you don't, and orders like a 100 pack on amazon. always picking up some more alcohol pads for your shots :( always getting you cool bandaids bc she thinks you'd like 'em.

she'd be so supportive when you have bad dysphoria days it's almost suffocating 😭 almost. i definitely feel like she overdoes the compliments sometimes but she doesn't mean it like that yk?! she just wants to be there for you and help you feel better :( so what if she's called you her best boy 20 times within the past 5 minutes? she means well!! but gahh. she sits there and listens. which is more than you could ever ask for. sometimes you just need to rant about how shitty you feel without her saying anything, and she knows that. her hugs make all the noise drown out even just for a bit. she loves when she can get you to smile when she cracks a little joke too.

since she's got that #money, thinking of jackie who orders a bunch of binders for you so you can test out the best one!! maybe one's too tight but you like the material better than the others, and she researches along with you to find something similar. the best feeling for her is when you find the one, one that makes you feel good and causes you to smile while thanking her over and over again with a bunch of kisses. or maybe if your chest is too big to feel comfortable in any sort of binders/tape, i think she'd try and maybe make one for you by sewing smth together. but, ultimately, if you just can't find anything, she feels horrible and hates how uncomfortable you are all the time :( she's right there kissing your tears and holding your body as you cry it out, telling you that she's gonna do everything in her power to get you top surgery as soon as possible.

feel like you could tell her that your coworker was being a little weird to you after you came out or something and the next day you work with him, he comes up to you all scared and nervous and apologizes 😭 (jackie paid him a visit during his shift and threatened him)

jackie who keeps records of your transition!! you could be months/years on T before you started dating her, but she likes to take pictures of you each month and likes to tell you how much you changed as a way to hype you up. maybe bc you dont rly notice the changes like everyone else does, and she points out how sharp your jaw has become or how handsomeee you look ^^

jackie x athletic bf!! jackie who's there supporting you during games!! jackie who's there to comfort you when you feel bad about how your school keeps you on the women's team :( she keeps an ear out for any negative talk from ur teammates when she's allowed to sit on the benches with you....ohhh when she hears them mention your name she snaps her head so fast it almost breaks. n they were just saying how good you are 😭 but she loves supporting you soo much. kissing you before games as a good luck charm, shouting the loudest, always showing up with heart balloons 😭 jackie going to the gym with you and making sure all the lousy men in there know you're hers. jackie who makes you feel better about showing your top surgery scars in public :(

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

Snackie Taylor strap warming hcs when?👀👀(pls)

dunno if i'd consider it hc's but here you go ❤️. poor jackie is never gonna escape the snackie allegations

You and Jackie sitting at home on the couch as you relax after a long day, neither of you fully dressed. 

thinking about surprising her with the strap. Jackie sitting sideways across your lap to watch a movie and spinning forward to face the screen when it suddenly gets interesting. she'd gasp when she felt it, trying to turn in your lap to ask you about it but you just wrap your hand around her stomach and tug her back into it.

she blushes immediately, wondering how long you've been wearing it without her noticing. she shyly moves her hips against it but you tighten your hold on her stomach as you still her. 

rubbing up between her legs with only the thin layers of your underwear separating you as Jackie's hands grip on your arm, fingernails digging in sharply. her thighs pressing together in a desperate search for friction, squirming against you as she lazily rests her head back on your shoulder. 

taking advantage of the position to attach your lips to her neck, biting and sucking at the offered skin as Jackie whimpers in response. 

lifting Jackie off your lap so you can fully pull the strap out. Jackie stands up on shaky legs as she pulls her panties down her legs, not bothering to rid herself of her sweater in her impatience. 

she's so wet from your teasing by the time you slowly stretch her out, one hand clasped around yours as she sinks back down against your lap. she finally taps your hand after a moment to let you know you can start moving, but of course, you're not going to. 

you slide your arm down to her thighs as you hold her against you, resting your head against her as you pretend to watch the movie over her shoulder. 

Jackie Taylor will not suffer in silence. She's whining and pleading with you to please fuck her, even as she gets quieter and quieter the longer you remain still. 

rocking up whenever she gets particularly whiny to cut her off mid-sentence. 

holding jackie's thighs open as they keep trying to slip shut, forcing her to spread herself over your lap. your other hand up her sweater as you play mindlessly with her chest. 

slipping your fingers in her mouth to make her wet them for you, dragging them against her bottom lip as you pull them out. slowly circling her clit as you hold her down, making her cry out as she helplessly clenches around you. she's so full and you just keep teasing her. she wants it so bad she's nearly crying in frustration

keeping a frustratingly steady pace, just fast enough to remind her how thick the strap is but not enough to make her finish. her hips twitching against you as she can't decide whether she wants to move towards it or away from it. 

by the time you finally take mercy on her and start moving, she comes far too soon, arching against you as she cries out her release. she's far too exhausted to protest as you start rocking up into her again, head thrown back against your shoulder as she lets you touch her however you want as long just as you just keep doing it. 

hc! jackie has a crush on you and she doesn't hide it well.

jackie taylor x fem!reader

summary: jackie having a painfully obvious crush on you while you remain completely oblivious.

warnings: characters are aged up, oblivious reader, jackie being possessive, jealous, clingy and over-the-top affectionate, jackie being awkwardly sweet, jackie as the most dramatic lesbian alive, not proofread.

a.n: oh hi! its been a long time...

jackie taylor, the golden girl of wiskayok high, was not known for being subtle. like, at all.

when she developed a crush on you? game over. everyone could tell. the team knew. her parents probably knew. heck, even the cafeteria staff were rooting for her. everyone... except you.

she would insist on walking you to every single class, even if her next one was on the other side of the building. "it's fine, I need the cardio," she’d say, hair bouncing as she kept pace with you.

whenever you sat together at lunch, jackie always had some excuse to sit as close as humanly possible. your thighs would brush, and she’d casually drape an arm behind you on the bench like this was some romcom where she was the suave lead.

her attempts at giving you compliments were both endearing and slightly chaotic. “that shirt looks really good on you! not that it wouldn’t look good off— wait, no, not like that!” cue her face turning an alarming shade of red as she stammered, completely flustered.

jackie was all about grand gestures. she'd bring you your favorite snacks without asking, even if it meant "borrowing" them from her teammates' lockers. r she'd "accidentally" sign you up as her partner for every school project ever. that was probably just her 'marking territory'.

her jealousy was comically bad. if someone so much as looked at you for longer than five seconds, jackie would swoop in like a hawk, throwing an arm around your shoulders and flashing her biggest, most obviously fake smile. "Oh hey, let’s go! you promised to help me with... uh, math homework!” (she had a solid A in math, by the way. that girl is smart.)

sometimes, her crush got the better of her, and she’d trip over her own words. “so... you wanna make out? i mean go out— I mean, hang out? like friends! or more than friends! or—" you’d just laugh it off, assuming she was being her usual goofy self, while she tried not to combust on the spot.

her teammates would not let her hear the end of it. “just tell her already!” van would groan during practice. “she’s not that clueless.” jackie would shoot them a death glare because, in her mind, this was a delicate, slow-burn process. it's all about romance!

she wasn’t above using petnames to test the waters. “hey, sweetheart, pass me that notebook?” she’d grin when you handed it over, your only response being a confused, “uh, sure?” her heart would leap even at that small acknowledgment.

one time, during a party, someone asked if you two were dating. jackie nearly choked on her drink while you laughed and said, “no way, we’re just friends!” jackie’s forced laugh after that? absolutely tragic.

despite all her awkwardness and dramatic flair, jackie genuinely adored you. she’d memorize all your quirks, from the way you scrunched your nose when you were deep in thought to how your laugh sounded when you found something genuinely funny.

if anyone asked her why she liked you so much, she’d have an entire list ready: you were smart, kind, gorgeous, and somehow still completely oblivious to the fact that she was hopelessly in love with you.

spoiler alert: eventually, her feelings would spill out in the most unplanned, dramatic way possible. probably during an argument where she’d blurt out, “because I like you, okay?!” only to immediately cover her mouth in horror.

and even though you’d be stunned into silence for a moment, when you finally smiled and said, “you should’ve just said so sooner,” all her embarrassment would melt away in an instant.

because, honestly? it was all worth it for you.

post planecrash!

after the crash, jackie’s crush intensifies tenfold. with no distractions like school or soccer, all her attention is on you, which becomes very obvious to everyone.

jackie insists on sticking close to you at all times. “we need to stay in pairs, it’s safer that way,” she’d argue, even though it’s clear she just wants to keep you within arm’s reach.

she’d hoard little things she finds that might make your life easier, like an extra blanket or berries she foraged. she’d always frame it like it’s no big deal: “i just thought you’d want this, that’s all.”

jealous jackie? oh, it’s dialed up to 100. if someone else offers to help you with something, jackie will immediately swoop in. “she doesn’t need your help, i’ve got it covered.” even though she could barely lift a bucket of water.

arguments would break out among the group about leadership and survival, but jackie’s main concern? you. she’d constantly check in on you, asking if you’re warm enough, if you’ve eaten, or if you’re scared.

shauna would initially try to protect jackie’s secret, but even she’d get tired of the whole thing. “jackie, just tell her. you’re already risking frostbite just to sit next to her by the fire.”

during the long, cold nights, jackie would find excuses to be near you. “body heat is the best way to stay warm,” she’d say, but the blush on her cheeks would give her away. that damn fag. (affectionate :D)

if you ever got hurt or sick, jackie would lose her mind. she’d hover over you like a worried mother hen, snapping at anyone who wasn’t taking your condition seriously enough. “she needs rest! and better food! and-” you’d have to calm her down before she worked herself into a frenzy.

and even though the wilderness is brutal and unforgiving, in that moment, her confession would feel like the warmest thing in the world.

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.”

Setting: Stark Tower. Stark Lab. 3:45 PM.

Security Alert:

⚠️ UNIDENTIFIED LIFEFORM HAS BREACHED TONY STARK'S PRIVATE LAB. WARNING: EXTREME LEVELS OF CUTE. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Tony (spinning in chair): Probably Bruce Banner bringing another radioactive cactus or somethin'—

FRIDAY: “Sir, she’s about three feet tall, chewing your arc reactor prototype, and has hair clips shaped like bats.”

Tony (freezes): …Oh no.

Cut to: Toddler!Reader in her glitter boots, oversized bat hoodie dragging behind her like a cape, smudged jelly on her face, holding Tony’s repulsor glove like a juice pouch.

Reader: This button go pew pew, yes?

Tony (immediately melting): Oh my GOD. I am adopting this child. BRUCE. BRUCE, SHE'S PERFECT.



Tony (to Bruce): She’s 3. She hacked my suit, bonded with Thor's hammer, and renamed my AI “Sparkle Jarvis.” Bruce: You know what this means, right? Tony: …Yeah. Both: She’s the new team leader now.



🔔 Meanwhile… at the Batcave 🔔

Bruce (staring at empty crib): …She’s gone.

Dick (checking monitors): Last ping was in New York… wait. Is that Stark Tower??

Jason (loading guns): Alright boys, we ride at dawn.

Tim (cracking knuckles): She hacked a plane, didn’t she?

Damian (sharpening a batarang): Toddler or not, she’s a Wayne. Of course she did.





🧃Back at Stark Tower…

Reader (curled in Tony’s lap): Can I haf dis shiny room, Mistah Iron?

Tony (already installing a mini juice bar): You want it? Done. It’s yours. I’ll throw in a hoverboard and a baby suit.

Steve (muttering): We’re just letting toddlers own rooms now?

Natasha (watching her draw on Tony’s screens with markers): I’m not stopping her.





Cue the Batfam busting into the lab like SWAT with daddy issues.

Bruce (panting): HAND. HER. OVER.

Tony (shielding Reader with a lab coat): She’s drawing me with a crown and lasers. You can’t take this away from me.

Jason: She already has a family!

Tony: Yeah well she’s clearly the smartest Wayne and deserves joint custody!

Damian: I WILL END YOU, STARK.

Reader (waves from behind a pile of bubble wrap): Hi Batboys :D I made a spidah with wires!

Peter Parker (swinging down): I helped! She said I’m her favorite bug!

All Batboys simultaneously: betrayed





✨ BONUS ✨

Bruce (dead serious): Name your price, Stark.

Tony: She said I was her hero.

Bruce (flinches): …She’s three. She lies.

Tony: She meant it.

Toddler!Reader (yawns): Can I go nap now?

Clint: We have a nap pod!

Dick: WE HAVE A BAT-BED!

Sam: We have waffles??

Reader (gasps): …I stay wif da waffles.

Keep reading

✨ BONUS ✨

Thor (appears out of nowhere, kneels in front of her): Little one. Will you accept Mjölnir as your teething ring?

Reader: Only if it pink.

Mjölnir: literally glows pink

Everyone: 😳

Tony (to Bruce): She’s 3. She hacked my suit, bonded with Thor's hammer, and renamed my AI “Sparkle Jarvis.” Bruce: You know what this means, right? Tony: …Yeah. Both: She’s the new team leader now.

A/N: I need therapy...

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Being submerged in a new way of living can be, figuratively, a very stressful time for a sixteen-year-old. New school. New city. New friends. 

And a new family, which can be a very fragile subject to handle.

Especially when you are forced to pretend to be someone who is no longer alive; all while looking for your missing twin, learning to keep your uncontrolled powers a secret, and discovering how not to lose your own identity with a body that is very much not your own.

(Y/N) Maximoff did not sign up for family drama. (Y/N) Wayne did not sign up to die young.

Both of them seem to become Death’s favorite tragedy.

Can Maximoff not lose herself in a place designed to see her crash and burn at the stake? Will she be able to find a place to belong? Learn to own up to her situation and even get some peace for the girl that is no longer amongst the living? Get some proper answers in a city full of mystery and secrets?

Thankfully, most of the questions have a positive outcome.

Can she escape from the haunting shadows of a family of obsessive bats?

That may be a lot harder to respond to, as expected.

Masterlist:

Reader's Moodboard

Chapter 1: I Could Be The Eye Of The Storm

Chapter 2: I Am Not My Body, Not My Mind, Or My Brain

Chapter 3: (TBA)

Tag List: (Open)

 @bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild