You pull open your gym locker with a quiet sigh, feeling the weight of the day pressing on your shoulders. Practice had gone well enough, but you couldn’t shake the anxiety brewing in your stomach. It’s only now that you’ve had a moment to breathe that you realize something: your neck is bare, and the makeup you’d slathered on this morning to cover the hickeys Lottie gave you is all but gone.
You’ve been running, sweating, and now, you’re left with nothing but those painfully visible marks staring back at you.
You stand there for a moment, frozen, staring at your reflection in the miniature mirror you keep in your locker. You try to gather yourself, pulling your hair over your shoulder in a desperate attempt to hide the mess. Maybe no one will notice.
You try to act casual, as though nothing is wrong as you tug at the hem of your jersey, trying to pull it higher. Your heart pounds as you bend down to grab your gym bag, hoping to just slip out unnoticed. Maybe you can change quickly, sneak away before anyone gets a good look.
But it’s too late.
You hear Van’s voice before you can even turn around.
“Oh shit, what happened to you?” Van asks, pulling at the collar of your uniform, her eyes widening as she spots the blooming bruises on your neck.
You try to shrug it off, but Jackie isn’t letting it slide. “More like who happened to you?” she teases, throwing you a playful smirk. “Looks like someone had a good time last night.”
You can’t help but groan, throwing your head back in frustration. The last thing you wanted was to deal with this right now. You close your gym locker with a soft slam, hoping it’ll block out the smirk on Jackie’s face and the intense curiosity in Van’s eyes.
“Not a word,” you mutter under your breath, but it’s no use, they’re already hooked.
Van raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the show. “Who do you think you’re fooling with that?” She points at the faint remnants of makeup trying to cover the bruises, but the marks are still visible, betraying you. “Come on, spill. Who’s the lucky mystery person?”
Jackie laughs, nudging Van. “Oh, I bet it’s someone from the team. She has been staying late after practice.” Her voice is laced with playful sarcasm, but you can see the pure amusement in her eyes.
You shift uncomfortably, reaching up to adjust your collar, but you know it’s no use, there’s no hiding it now. You glance around the locker room, hoping for some escape, but of course, Lottie is standing nearby, pretending to busy herself with her things. Her gaze flicks to yours for a split second, then quickly looks away, her face a little flushed.
You can feel the heat creeping up your neck, but you stay silent, hoping they’ll just move on.
Van narrows her eyes, a sly smile forming. “Seriously, though. No judgment, just… you’ve gotta tell us who has you looking like that.” She steps closer, hands on her hips.
“Was it someone from the other team? Or did you finally give in to someone’s charm on this side of the field?” She presses, moving her eyebrows up and down.
You roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “it’s nothing-“
Jackie snickers. “Nothing? Come on, we all know better than that.”
You can’t help but glance at Lottie again, who’s still staying suspiciously quiet through everything.
You open your mouth to respond, maybe to deny it again, maybe to come up with some half-assed excuse, but before you can, the sound of the locker room door swinging open steals everyone’s attention.
“Hey, are you guys coming or what?” Tai’s voice cuts through the conversation as she leans against the doorway, already dressed and waiting. “Coach wants us out of here in five.”
You exhale quietly, seizing the opportunity before Van or Jackie can push further.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” you say quickly, reaching for your hoodie and pulling it over your head as casually as possible. Jackie gives you a lingering look like she isn’t quite done interrogating you.
Van lets out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, fine. You’re off the hook… for now.” She points a finger at you, smirking. “But don’t think I won’t figure it out.”
Jackie hums in agreement, but thankfully, neither of them linger. The two of them trail after Tai, their voices fading as they make their way out of the locker room.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
The room is quieter now, most of the team gone, leaving only the sounds of zippers, bags rustling, and the faint trickle of showers running in the distance. You turn back toward your locker, fingers still gripping the hem of your hoodie when you hear her.
“You okay?”
You don’t have to look to know it’s Lottie.
Her voice is soft and careful.
You glance over your shoulder, finding her still by her locker, hesitating like she isn’t sure if she should come closer. You nod, giving her a small smile.
“Yeah,” you murmur. “Just, wasn’t expecting all of that.”
Lottie exhales a quiet laugh, stepping closer. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I didn’t think it’d be that bad.”
You raise an eyebrow at her, tugging at the collar of your hoodie. “Tell that to the team.”
She hums, tilting her head like she’s thinking about it, but something is knowing in her expression like she isn’t sorry at all.
“You covered it up pretty well,” she offers, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “For a while, at least.”
You huff, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah, that worked out great.”
Lottie leans against the lockers beside you, her fingers brushing over the metal absentmindedly. For a second, she doesn’t say anything, just stands there watching you like she’s weighing something in her mind. Then in a voice quiet enough that no one else could hear she speaks.
Hey how do you create a masterlist? I'm new here and I'm currently starting a writing series and I think it would if I had a masterlist but I'm not sure how to make it
Hi!!! Okay so i’m not great at explaining things tbh but i’m gonna try. If you’re still confused please feel free to ask questions.
Okay!! Hopefully that made sense. If you need anymore else please lmk. I also love making themes on here so if you need help decorating I would love to do another tutorial for you!!!
͏𝒘 — Carmen Berzatto & reader ⟢ ( 609 ) not proofread. established relationship. he’s a little mean but what’s new?
“Don’t even think about it.”
Carmy doesn’t look at you when he says it—eyes on the TV, one socked foot bouncing against the coffee table like he’s half-watching, half-simmering about something he ate earlier still stuck in his teeth.
You blink, brows furrowed. “Think about what?”
He finally turns his head, the look he gives you is flat. Deadpan. “The fuckin’ Crayolas.”
You follow his gaze to the coffee table where your sad little pack of markers is sitting, ripped open with half the markers spilled out. You left them there earlier when you were labeling takeout containers. Not your fault they’re in full view now, glinting under the shitty living-room lamp, tempting you so mercilessly.
He sees your expression shift, maybe not even on purpose, just the slight narrowing of your eyes, the way your hand twitches like it wants something to hold. That’s all it takes, he knows what you’re thinking.
“I’m serious,” he warns. “I’ll kick you out.”
You smile, it’s small but mischievous. The kind that could mean anything.
Carmy shifts on the couch like he’s about to get up, then doesn’t. You lunge at the coffee table, halfway falling off the couch. Awkwardly positioned with one leg hanging off the cushion beneath you.
“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters as you grab the pack and immediately uncap the blue one.
You crawl across the couch without shame, knee knocking into his leg, the marker poised between your fingers like a scalpel. Carmy sighs the way he always does when he lets you get away with something: like he’s surrendering, reluctantly.
“You’re seriously doing this?” he asks, lifting his arm a little when you nudge at it.
“Why not? you let me do it before.”
“I was drunk.” He grumbles, but doesn’t pull away. He lets his arm drop across your lap, lets you scoot in close. The cuff of his sweatshirt is already pushed up. The 773 on his bicep stares back at you like it’s been waiting for this moment all day.
“You’ve got nice skin for coloring,” you murmur, brushing your fingers over the tattoo before starting in with the marker.
Carmy doesn’t say anything, just stares for a while. Admiring the shape of your nose. The dimple on your left cheek. The look of pure concentration on your features.
You can feel him watching you, though. Not directly, but in the way his breath changes when you lean too close, the way his fingers twitch slightly against your thigh when you shift for a better angle.
“Could use a canvas that doesn’t talk so much,” you mutter, sarcasm in your voice.
“Fuck you.”
You grin and press the marker a little harder,
against his skin, shading in the curve of the three with the precision of an angry toddler.
“You color like a kid,” he says after a moment.
You hum. “Thanks.”
“Wasn’t a compliment.”
Carmy huffs. His head drops back onto the cushion and he exhales through his nose like he’s trying not to fall asleep—except his other hand is resting on your thigh now, thumb moving in slow, barely-there circles over your shorts.
He smells like rosemary and something earthy. You swear you’d climb into his chest and live there for the rest of your life if he let you.
“You know this shit’s permanent, right?” he mutters.
“It’s literally not. The box says they’re washable.”
“They leave residue.”
“Sounds like a you problem.”
Carmy shifts again but doesn’t pull away. His eyes flutter open when you pause—just for a second—and look at him.
“You gonna color the snail, too?” he asks after a moment, voice quieter.
You nod. “Yeah, eventually.”
Probably a little ooc cause I’m not used to writing for male characters. 😔
summary: Jackie Taylor has her entire life scheduled down to the minute; the one thing she didn’t account for was meeting you.
͏𝒘 — Jackie Taylor & reader ⟢ ( 1231 ) not proofread. college au. office romance.
Jackie Taylor does not have time for a relationship. She has classes at eight a.m. sharp, a sorority, three clubs, mixers that Shauna insists she goes to, and a weekend internship at a local PR agency where she files press briefs and pretends she cares about building other people’s brands more than her own. Her planner is color-coded. Her outfits are always put together, and her coffee order never changes.
She is not the kind of girl who misses deadlines. She is not the kind of girl who forgets birthdays. She is not, under any circumstances, the kind of girl who lets someone else disrupt the course of her carefully laid-out plans.
Or at least she was, until you came along.
She remembers the first time she noticed you. It wasn’t because you were loud, or flashy, or tried to make an entrance. In fact, it was the opposite. You were standing by the copier, squinting at the blinking red light with your sleeves rolled up to your elbows and a smudge of toner on your wrist.
She’d walked past you a dozen times that week, brushing by without so much as a nod, but something about the way your brow furrowed in concentration made her pause. There was a stillness to you, like the tension built up in a room just before something important happens, and for someone like Jackie, who’s built her entire world on structure and timing, it was devastatingly distracting. She couldn’t help but look.
Not at anything in particular. Not the slope of your neck or the shape of your lips, though she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t noticed those things too. It was the way you listened. The way your eyes followed people when they spoke, really followed, not like you were waiting to talk, but like you were clinging to every word. The way you smiled at the receptionist, even when no one else did. The way you stayed late on Sundays without complaint, headphones in, nodding your head just slightly to music Jackie would have never have guessed you liked.
And okay. Maybe she started taking her snack breaks five minutes later than usual so she could eat with you. Maybe she lingered by your desk to ask questions she already knew the answers to. Maybe she started looking for excuses to say your name, just to see how it sounded coming out of her mouth.
It really wasn’t like her. She wasn’t the type to develop a thing for someone she worked with. Even if it is just an internship. It’s unprofessional. It’s a conflict of interest. It’s a terrible idea.
But you made it so easy.
You leaned against office doorframes like you owned the place. You laughed under your breath when the senior strategist butchered a pop culture reference for the fourth time that day. You weren’t afraid to speak up in meetings, even though your voice always trembled a little. Jackie found herself anticipating your ideas before you even opened your mouth, like your thoughts were in sync with hers.
She tells herself it’s just admiration. Respect, maybe? One smart intern recognizing another, that’s it.
But then you catch her watching you across the room, and you can’t find it in yourself to look away. You tilt your head just slightly, lips quirking up into a little smirk, like you know. And Jackie forgets how to breathe.
That’s when she realizes it: she’s in trouble.
Because Jackie Taylor does not get distracted. She does not stumble over her words, or lose track of her planner, or lie awake thinking about the sound of someone else’s laugh. She doesn’t chase, she attracts. She’s the one that’s chased. That’s how it’s always been and she has too much pride to change it now.
But there’s something about you that makes her forget all the things she’s supposed to be.
Like now, for example, she’s standing in front of the stubborn copier, glaring at it as if her sheer willpower could fix the paper jam. This is the third time it’s happened this week. The machine blinks angrily, like it’s mocking her, once again refusing to cooperate. She jabs the side panel twice with her lips pressed into a tight line.
“Unbelievable,” she mutters, jabbing the side panel again like it just insulted her. “Literally, just print.”
A frustrated sigh slips past her lips. She has to get these copies done before the eleven o’clock meeting or it’s her ass on the line. Not that she’d ever admit it out loud, but she actually likes this internship. She’s good at it. And that stupid, blinking light is the only thing standing between her and her immaculate track record.
Just as quick as she gets lost in her thoughts, a familiar voice pulls her from them.
"Jammed again? They really need to replace this thing," you mutter, stepping in and gently easing her aside so you can examine the machine.
You crouch down in front of the copier like it’s a wild animal you’ve learned to tame, popping open the side panel with practiced ease. Jackie huffs, arms folded tightly across her chest.
“I swear it has something against me,” she grumbles. “It always does this.”
You glance up at her with a playful smile.
“It probably just panicked under pressure. I mean, I would too if the Jackie Taylor was glaring at me like that.”
That earns the faintest upward twitch of her lips, almost a smile, if you’re being generous.
Finally you close the side panel, hitting it a few times with the heel of your hand, before you stand up.
“Here, Try it now,”
Jackie presses the green button, and the copier whirs back to life, printing out pages like nothing ever happened.
“Oh my god,” she breathes out, then scoffs. “Unbelievable. It’s actually working.”
“I’ve spent a little too much time fighting with this thing.” You shrug.
She gives you a long look, the kind that’s supposed to be condescending, but it loses its edge when you notice she’s trying not to smile.
“I seriously owe you,” she says. “You might’ve just saved my future career.”
You arch a brow. “That’s big talk for a ten-page briefing packet.”
She lifts her chin. “It’s a very important briefing packet. There’s color-coded highlighting involved.”
You rest your arm beside hers, just enough contact to make her notice. “If you’re feeling generous, you could thank me with lunch?”
That stops her. Not dramatically, just enough for her lips to part in surprise and her lashes to flutter, an actual flutter, before she schools her features into something more neutral. Which, for Jackie, is still a little theatrical.
“Lunch,” she repeats, as if tasting the word on her tongue. “Like… food? With you?”
You blink. “Is that not what lunch usually means?”
Jackie rolls her eyes, but the smile that breaks across her face is genuine.
“No, it is,” she says. “I just didn’t plan for it.”
She glances down at the now-functioning copier, back at you, and then tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear like she’s annoyed at it for getting in her face.
“Okay,” she says eventually, like she’s choosing to go off-schedule and wants the universe to know it. “Lunch.”
For once in her carefully planned out life, Jackie Taylor lets herself go a little off track for you.
An — I wrote this on a whim at 2 am last night. Gonna try to work on a Nat sfw alphabet someone requested soon. I really wanna do one for each of the yellowjackets. They’re so much fun to write. ummm if you made it this far, thank you for reading. <3
͏𝒘 — Lottie Matthews & gn! reader ⟢ ( no word count ) Post crash. No mental hospital au.
Roommate! Lottie who organizes her tea collection every Sunday and lets you borrow from it, but only certain jars.
Roommate! Lottie who goes to therapy every Thursday afternoon and comes back so calm it’s eerie. When you ask how it was, she never gives you a real answer. Just mumbles something like “It’ll be better next week.”
Roommate! Lottie who only takes her meds with orange juice. You asked her why once. She said, “It makes them taste sweeter.”
Roommate! Lottie who is easy to live with. She’s clean and quiet. But every so often she’ll have bad days where she’ll stare out the living room window for hours, whispering to herself. If you try to comfort her she’ll snap, but deep down she appreciates the effort.
Roommate! Lottie who apologizes for snapping at you, she brings you pressed flowers or a copy of your favorite book to make up for it.
Roommate! Lottie who often spaces out when others are talking, but she makes an effort to pay attention when it’s you.
Roommate! Lottie who writes her dreams down every morning in a spiral notebook. She never tells you what they are, but if you ask she’ll let you read it.
Roommate! Lottie who listens to you rant about your day with the gentlest, softest eyes, like she’s memorizing you. She never interrupts. Just nods and hums, sometimes reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear.
Roommate! Lottie who insists on cooking dinner together every night. She always has new recipes she wants to try.
Roommate! Lottie who is gentle with you because no one ever was with her.
Hi!…. Sfw or NSFW but the alphabet with Van… that’s all, do what you can but yeah!
Also can I be 🩰 anon?
𝙥𝙧𝙚-𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙝 𝙑𝙖𝙣 𝙥𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙛𝙬 𝙖𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙚𝙩
AN — Hi!!!! i’m so sorry this took so long. I’ve had some serious writers block recently. Hopefully i’ll be more active on here. And ofc you can <3
͏𝒘 — Van palmer & gn! reader ⟢ ( no word count ) not proofread. established relationship.
A — Admiration ⟢ What do they admire about you?
Van admires your calm. Not the fake kind, like, not the quiet, bottle-it-up kind of calm, but the kind where you see everything, take it in, and still choose to be soft. She watches you deal with people, the way you talk to the quiet girls on the team, the way you defuse drama without ever raising your voice, and she loves it. Because she’s all sharp corners and sarcasm when things get tense, but you’re steady and gentle when it matters.
B — Bonding ⟢ What’s their favorite bonding activity?
MOVIE NIGHTS!!! Movie nights are sacred. for you two. Van insists on them at least once a week. Blanket, snacks, the dusty VHS player in her basement. The best part for her isn’t even the movie itself (though she will quiz you after). It’s getting to show you something she loves, something weird or obscure or cult-classic-y, then watching you watch it. She barely blinks during the movie, too busy staring sideways at you, watching your reactions, nudging you every five seconds like, “wait, wait— This part’s so good!”
C — Cuddling ⟢ How do they like to cuddle?
Van pretends she’s not a cuddler. She makes a whole thing of groaning and flopping onto you like ugh, fine, but five minutes later she’s wrapped around you like an octopus and won’t let go. Her favorite position? Laying half on top of you, leg slung over your hips, face buried somewhere near your neck or chest with absolutely zero regard for personal space. She’s warm, heavy, always grumbling something under her breath like it’s a chore for her, but she secretly loves it.
D — Dates ⟢ What are date nights like?
Van does not do typical. If you suggest a sit-down restaurant or anything with mood lighting, she’ll act like you just insulted her. Dates with Van are spontaneous and loud, very high school. Sneaking out to get 7-Eleven slushies at midnight. Making out in the back row of a horror movie neither of you are really watching. Skipping practice to loiter at a local thrift store and try on the ugliest shit imaginable just to make each other laugh.
E — Emotions ⟢ How do they express their emotions?
Van feels everything, she just hates admitting it. She’s a master at deflection, she turns her feelings into jokes, shoulder nudges, or weird impressions the second things get too raw. But when it does come out, it’s raw and unfiltered. Like she’s been holding her breath for weeks and finally lets it go all at once.
F — Future ⟢ How do they see their future with you?
Van acts like the future doesn’t matter. But the truth is, she thinks about it all the time. Quietly, late at night when your head’s on her shoulder and you’re half-asleep mumbling nonsense, and she’s staring at the ceiling wondering how the hell she got this lucky.
She pictures a shitty apartment full of thrifted furniture and your clothes mixed with hers. A dog that sheds too much. A beat-up car she insists on driving even though it breaks down once a month. You, in all of it, that’s the part she doesn’t question.
G — Gifts ⟢ How do they feel about gift giving?
she gives you things that make you laugh, things that are a little weird, and things that show she listens. A mixtape of songs she thinks you’ll like (and some she thinks you need to hear). A vintage jacket she found at a thrift store because it reminded her of you. A Polaroid of the two of you, taken on a whim, because she wants to remember the moment.
H — Holding Hands ⟢ How do they hold hands?
Van grabs your hand like she’s staking her claim or something. fingers laced tight like she never wants to let go. She’s got this habit of squeezing just a little harder when she’s excited or nervous, like she’s reminding herself you’re real. Sometimes she swings your hand back and forth obnoxiously just to make you laugh or distract you from overthinking.
I — Injury ⟢ How would they react if you got hurt?
Van’s first instinct is panic, even if she tries to play it cool. She’ll curse under her breath, get in your face asking if you’re okay, and probably try to patch you up with whatever’s nearby. If it’s serious, she gets fierce, ready to fight anyone or anything that caused it. But when it’s just a scrape or bruise, she fusses over you with a weird mix of tenderness and teasing, she helps you up and says something like “stop being so clumsy, dumbass.”
J — Jealousy ⟢ How jealous do they get?
It is so obvious when Van is jealous. She doesn’t sulk or stew, she goes straight into action. The second someone gets a little too friendly with you, she’s suddenly at your side, arm slung around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder like, “Hey, babe, who’s your new friend?” She’ll crack jokes with a bite, maybe make a point to kiss you in front of them, and then spend the rest of the day being weirdly clingy. If you call her out on it? She’ll scoff and deny it.
K — Kisses ⟢ How do they like to kiss you?
When she’s worked up about something she’s all tongue and teeth. Pressing you into lockers, biting your bottom lip just to hear you gasp. But she also has a softer side, one she slips into when no one’s watching. Her softer kisses are slow, lingering, with her thumb on your jaw, her nose brushing yours.
L — Love ⟢ What’s their love language?
Van doesn’t say it right away. She feels it early, way earlier than she’ll ever admit but the words always seem to get stuck in her throat. So instead, she shows it. Through touch, mostly. Holding your face when you’re upset. Slinging an arm around you like it’s instinct. Giving you her hoodie without a word. Carrying your bag. Fighting your battles before you even know there’s one happening. She’ll call you a pain in the ass while tucking your hair behind your ear. Say “God, you’re annoying” while looking at you like you hung the moon.
M — Morning ⟢ How are mornings spent with them?
Van is not a morning person. She’s mouthy, Half-asleep and grumpy. If you set an alarm the night before, she’s instantly annoyed, muttering something like “Turn that thing off or i’m gonna throw it out the window.”
N — Nightmare ⟢ What is their worst fear?
Van’s worst fear is losing you. Not just physically, but the way people drift apart, how feelings fade, how the quiet space between two people can swallow everything. She’s terrified that she’ll mess things up, that she’ll say the wrong thing or push too hard and you’ll walk away. That the part of her you love the most though, the real Van, messy and soft.
O — Obvious ⟢ How obvious is their love to you?
If Van could tattoo “I love my partner” across her forehead, she would. There’s no hiding it. She’s utterly shameless when it comes to you. She wears your jacket 24/7, tells everyone off for talking shit about you, and brags in the most obnoxious way possible. When you walk into a room, her face immediately lights up, and if anyone tries to flirt with you? Van’s already there, arm possessively draped around your shoulders, ready to fight someone. Everyone knows you’re hers, and she loves that.
P — Pet Names ⟢ What do they call you?
Van’s pet names for you are equal parts sweet, sarcastic, and a little bit wild. Expect “babe” when she’s soft, “dumbass” when she’s teasing, and “hot stuff” when she wants to make you laugh. She loves seeing your reactions, whether it’s a smile, a blush, or a playful smack, and will switch up the nicknames just to keep you on your toes.
Q — Quirk ⟢ What is one of their quirks?
She never stops quoting movies and TV shows, sometimes ones no one else has heard of. She’ll say something random in the middle of a conversation and then smirk like, “Bet you don’t know that one.” She keeps a running mental playlist of her favorite lines and challenges you to catch the references. Bonus points if you get one right, she’ll actually smile, maybe even laugh, which is rare.
R — Romance ⟢ How romantic are they?
Van isn’t romantic in the traditional sense. She doesn’t do candlelit dinners or cheesy love notes. Her idea of romance is real, like pulling you close and comforting you after a tough day. She’ll make you ridiculous mixtapes or surprise you with tickets to your favorite band’s show.
S — Show Off ⟢ Do they like to show you off?
Van shows you off like you’re a trophy she just won at a championship. She’ll talk about you constantly, even when the conversation has nothing to do with you. “Oh, yeah, my s/o likes that movie.” She’ll tape polaroids of you on the inside of her locker, sneak away from the team to kiss you during practice, and wave at you from across the field, pointing you out to her teammates, even if they already know you’re there. You’re her favorite person in the world, and she wants everyone to know it.
T — Time ⟢ How quickly do they fall in love with you?
Van falls in love fast. Like, suspiciously fast. She knew after the first time you smiled at her. But she plays it cool, masks it with sarcasm, teases you to death, makes you think she’s just messing around. But every time she learns something new about you, it hits her like a truck. Your favorite snack? She remembers. Your bad days? She shows up.
U — Upset ⟢ How do they comfort you?
Van isn’t great with words, but when you’re upset? First, she tries to joke it away, “Wanna go egg someone’s house?” but if that doesn’t work, she drops the act and gets serious real fast. She pulls you into her chest, her arms wrapped tight, chin resting on your head. She lets you cry it out, lets you be quiet, lets you feel, without rushing it. When she does speak, it’s soft and low and real: “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” And she means it, every time.
V — Value ⟢ What do they value most about you?
Van values the hell out of your loyalty. Not the kind that’s loud or performative, but the quiet, constant kind, how you never flinch when she’s messy, how you stick around even when she’s being a pain in the ass. She notices the way you look at her like she’s more than what people think.
X — X-Ray ⟢ How easily can they read you?
Van reads you like an open book, no matter how hard you try to hide what you’re feeling, she can see it. One glance from her, and she knows if you’re upset, tired, or holding back. She doesn’t always say it out loud, but she acts on it, stepping in when you need space or pulling you close when you need comfort
Y — Yearning ⟢ How easily do they miss you?
Van misses you like it’s a physical ache. Two hours apart? She’s already calling your home phone just to hear your voice on the answering machine. when you get back? She’s clingy as hell, wrapping her arms around you and not letting go for hours.
Z — Zzzz ⟢ What are nights like with her?
Nights with Van are loud, warm and never quiet. She’s a restless sleeper, always shifting, mumbling, stealing the covers, sometimes waking you up with an elbow to the ribs or on purpose to whisper a joke she thought of.
I’M STILL HERE 😭😭 I’ve been lacking motivation to write recently 😔 again. But i’ve been working on a Van sfw alphabet someone requested, so i’ll hopefully post that soon!!!
Don't understand why people get so annoyed at Shauna for not being able to see that Jackie loved her. It's not as simple as Shauna being dense or self-obsessed. Like doesn't that just make you sad? Doesn't your heart hurt when Shauna asks Melissa why she even likes her? Why do you think she begs Jeff to tell her he loves her, even when she knows he doesn't mean it? She has two emotionally/physically distant parents, seemingly no siblings, and a best friend who (whatever her reasons) kept Shauna at arms length emotionally. Is it any wonder Shauna thinks she is fundamentally unlovable? She self-sabotages in her relationships because she just can't ever let herself believe the other person truly cares as much about her as she does them.
