Warnings: reader described as afab, nsfw, characters are all 18+ (as always), descriptions of sex, oral, loss of virginity
This is basically part two of jock!reader getting Misty to do your homework, but you can definitely read it without reading the other one first.
MDNI
The first time you call Misty your girlfriend, it's kind of offhandedly. You don't even notice in the moment. Misty is on the couch next to you when a friend calls you. You answer only to quickly tell them you'll call back later cause you're hanging out with your girlfriend right now.
When you hang up Misty is staring at you, her eyes bigger than usual and a huge grin on her blushing face. You don't know what's going on until she practically squeaks "you just called me your girlfriend!"
You kind of shrug it off cause yeah, of course she is, you've been dating for a while now. Misty interrupts you by smothering you with kisses. Now you can't help but grin as well cause she's so happy.
Misty goes to all of your games, cheering for you louder than anyone else and wearing that jersey you gave her weeks ago. You might have thought it'd be embarrassing to have Misty quigley as your biggest fan before you two started dating. But having a fangirl like that actually just pushes your confidence and makes you play better (most of the time). And you love the way she blushes when you come up to her after games, still out of breath, your skin glistening with sweat and that charming smile on your face. She fawns over you, giving you water and wiping the sweat off your face with a towel. When you kiss her, she makes a cute little squeak that gets muffled by your lips. She still can't believe you'd kiss her in public.
Another thing she can't believe is that you let her give you massages. She first offers when you complain about your muscles being sore after practice. It just comes out of her mouth without thinking and for a moment, she's worried that it's too much. But you agree and let her knead the tense muscles in your shoulders. Misty spends the whole time marveling at how soft your skin feels and how strong you are. When her fingers dig into an especially tense knot, you groan and hearing that noise makes her feel things™.
Misty still thinks of that noise when she's home again. Her hand wandering down her own body as she imagines the other noises you might be able to make.
Misty who starts acting more shy around you again after that night. Blushing when you get closer and stumbling over her words. When you ask her what's wrong, she just blurts out, "I'm a virgin!". You look confused for a moment and try to reassure her that you don't expect sex from her and that you two can take it slow. But Misty interrupts your understanding talk to tell you that she does want sex with you. Like soon. Preferably immediately. But she doesn't know how to initiate and hopes she'll be 'good enough' at it.
You tell her that she doesn't have to be 'good' at it. That you two can just try what feels good and that it'll be better the more you do it anyway.
It calms Misty down enough to suggest trying right in that moment. You two make out first, she still always kisses you in that sweet, eager way. As if she needs your lips like oxygen. She shakes a little when you take her shirt off, not from nerves but with excitement. Once she realizes that you really want her like this and that she's allowed to, she lets her hands roam your body greedily. Trying to touch every inch of you. To memorize every curve and muscle.
Misty actually wants to touch you first. There are a million things she wants to try. But most of all she wants her mouth on you. Her lips on your skin, teeth grazing the supple flesh of your chest, mouth wrapping around your nipple licking and sucking with a kind of devotion. It's like she's worshipping you. Misty thrives on the feeling of your fingers tangling in her curls, on every noise that leaves your lips.
She completely loses control the moment her tongue makes contact with your folds. Your moan and taste make something inside her snap. She laps at you, a bit clumsy but making up for it with eagerness. Misty keeps glancing up at you while licking and sucking every inch of your pussy, she needs reassurance that shes doing well. Your face scrunched up with pleasure and the noises that leave your mouth are enough reassurance. She's basically attached to your folds, your wetness dripping down her chin. You actually have to gently push her away after you finish. Misty is flushed and breathless and completely blessed out.
That state of bliss only intensifies when you touch her. Your lips on hers, tasting yourself on her tongue, as you slide your hand between her legs. She's utterly soaked. It doesn't take very long for her to come undone around your fingers, her walls tightening and pulsing after the first brushes of that perfect spot within her. But she begs you to keep going. Finishing around your fingers again and again until her legs are quivering. This is everything she ever wanted, exactly what she imagined when it was her own fingers inside of her.
Afterwards, she's breathless and happy but part of her is surprised when you wrap your arms around her and pull her close. She wasn't sure if a jock like you would stay to cuddle afterward (especially considering some of the rumors she heard). But you hold her soft body against yours, fingers tracing the sweat on her skin and lips pressing against her temple.
Misty who starts getting more confident after that and basically wants you all the time. She's kissing your neck whenever it's within reach and slides her hand below your shirt to feel your abs when you're alone. Sometimes, she basically jumps you the moment you enter the room.
You might have started dating Misty Quigley sooner had you known it would be like this.
You decide to spoil your girlfriend by getting Misty's favorite snacks and the weird European soda she likes so much when she comes over for a movie night. And as if all that doesn't already have her floating on cloude nine, when you press play its a nature documentary she's been wanting to watch. You're willingly watching something that bores you to death because you know that she likes it. Misty has never been as happy as she is in that moment. Your arm wrapped around you dont even complain when she pauses to excitedly add her own facts. When the documentary is over Misty makes sure to show you just how happy she is with you, which ends with a stain on your couch that always makes you think of her.
Bonus: Misty meeting your parents for dinner and when they see that shy nerd in a cat sweater staring at you like you hung the moon, they are actually relieved. They thought you'd show up with some trouble making party girl. They hope Misty will be a good influence... and she actually is in some ways.
water fight in a creek with jackie if she lived to s3, getting out and eating berries on the grass like a lil picnic, making her giggle and feel happy until you both have to go back to the village :((
» jackie taylor x fem!reader
— warnings: season 3/wilderness summer au (so jackie survived the winter, obviously). established relationship. mostly just fluff, really.
coming back from the water, barefoot up the rocky ground, you find that jackie has finally turned onto her back. before you’d gone for your little swim, she’d been lying on her front instead, head resting on her crossed forearms so she could, as she’d put it, ‘get a nice tan.’ now, whether tanning is a particularly good idea out here, with no sunscreen whatsoever, is beyond you, but considering the lives you’ve all been living since the crash, you suppose sunbathing is the least of your health concerns. besides, if it makes jackie happy, you think you have earned the right to indulge in some normality, even if it comes at the expense of your skin.
your makeshift bikini (someone’s underwear you’d taken from the collective clothing pile, worn thin over months of shared wear & handwashes in the lake) leaves a trail of dark droplets on the sunbaked rocks as you make your way back to your spot. unfortunately for you, jackie is never very talkative while sunbathing: she prefers to combine tanning with a nap, and, more importantly, without having to lift her head to speak to you, so while she’d stretched out beneath the scorching sun, her own bra unclasped to avoid tan lines, you had gone for a swim to cool down.
standing over her now, it looks like she’d managed to roll onto her back sometime during your swim, her hair fanned out under her head & against the blanket which shes brought along from your shared hut. jackie shades her eyes with the back of her hand, squinting up at you against the blinding backdrop of the cloudless sky when a bead of water slips from the end of your hair and lands right on the bare skin of her stomach. with a shriek, she jerks, pulling her knees up to her chest before kicking a foot in your direction. “go away,” jackie whines, “i’m getting all wet!”
“all wet?” you repeat with a grin, long since used to your girlfriend’s occasionally overdramatic behavior.
“yes, you’re- no, don’t you fucking dare.” too late does jackie realize why you’re getting down on your knees, and by then any attempt to scoot away is useless: you’re already leaning over her, palms braced on either side of her shoulders so as not to outright crush her, while the lake water still clinging to your slick skin drips all over her. letting out an indignant squeal as your chest brushes against hers, jackie continues to squirm around, twisting beneath you despite having nowhere to go. “get off, you’re freezing!” she gives your shoulder a halfhearted shove. “you are such an asshole.”
“yeah?” you laugh, finally taking pity on her & rolling off, though you can still hear jackie’s quiet cursing over the contented sigh that leaves your mouth as you lie down on the blanket next to her. in the distance, not too far from where you’re lounging, you can hear the others going about their day, and isn’t it strange how normal all of this has become within a matter of months?
perhaps it’s making it through winter that did this: spending the coldest season of your life wondering whether you’d even live to see another summer could very well have taught you to appreciate the warmth while you had it, and to take advantage of the more bearable days. if you were ever to stop and think about it, you, too, would realize how utterly fucked up it is that you have all sort of learned to accept your situation the way it is, the hope of rescue ever coming long gone. but what else is there that anyone can do?
jackie, the main reason you can occasionally enjoy yourself out here at all, snaps you out of your thoughts: with a blade of grass she has plucked from the earth, she now trails over your abdomen and giggles when the skin beneath its tip twitches. blinking against the sun, you open your eyes to meet hers straight away, watching your face for a reaction. “hm?” you hum, sensing that she wants something from you.
while you can busy yourself with a swim & happily give your girlfriend the time to herself that she’d wanted, she seems incapable of doing the same for you. instead, jackie nudges your shoulder with two fingers before finally admitting: “i’m hungry.”
“that’s it?” you mumble and let your head fall back against the ground. “i thought i was under attack.”
as if on cue, jackie goes right back to poking you with the grass. “i want a snack,” she pouts.
“a snack?” you repeat, pushing yourself upright with a resigned sigh. it seems you’re not getting to relax like this after all. “what, you want me to run down to shoprite and pick something up for you?”
jackie rolls her eyes. “you’re smart,” she says, now poking your knee with her toe. “you’ll think of something.”
twisting around, you glance back toward the direction of the village. “i think shauna was working on lunch when we left. maybe we could go see if she’s-”
“no, thank you.” already, jackie is wrinkling her nose in distaste. “i don’t want any more deer meat.”
“right,” you sigh. “what do you want, jax?”
at the defeat in your voice, jackie instanty knows that she’s won and perks up, always bound to get whatever she wants from you one way or another, because even out here, under these circumstances, you still have the most spoiled girlfriend in the world. “i’m pretty sure there were some berries over there.” she nods solemnly to the path you’d first come from before batting her lashes at you. “can you get me some?”
and when have you ever said no to jackie taylor? with a deep exhale, you push yourself to your feet and brush the dust & stray blades of grass from the backs of your legs before making your way over to where she had pointed. at least jackie was right about the berries and hadn’t sent you wandering into the bushes for nothing: the shrubs there are heavy with fruit, clusters of them hanging low, and you crouch beside them, you begin to search through the branches, obviously only picking the ripest ones for your girlfriend, because how else is jackie gonna survive out here, if not with your princess treatment?
their deep red juices soon spill all over your fingers, but, knowing you’re stripped down to your underwear anyway, you don’t mind all that much; there’s no risk of staining any clothes, and you can easily go back into the water and wash off what of it runs too low down your wrists now.
once you’ve gathered as many berries as your hands can carry, you make your way back to where jackie has gone back to tanning under the, at this point, late afternoon sun. the warmth has done its work on you, too: your hair, which was soaked through only a few minutes ago, has dried by now, the strands at the back of your neck only the tiniest bit damp, and even the fabric of your bikini/underwear is no longer slick against your body.
seeing you approach, jackie lifts her head and, once you are within reach with your berries, expectantly parts her lips. not all that hard to tell what she wants from you, like this, so, whilst balancing the berries in the palm of your hand, you pluck one from the pile and place it into her waiting mouth, where, as your fingertip ghosts against her lower lip, she catches it between her teeth. “good?” you ask, watching jackie chew, then letting a pleased hum slip from her lips.
“mhm, so good,” she says, already opening her mouth again for more. gladly complying, you feed her another berry, and then another after that, each accepted with a happy hum & a smile from jackie. eventually, once she’s had enough to satisfy that initial craving, she gestures for you to set them aside. “put them there,” she pats the edge of the blanket, “they’ll get all dusty.”
obedient as ever, you lower yourself to tip the remaining berries from your stained hands onto the blanket, taking a second to spread them out so they won't roll away on the uneven ground before you turn back to jackie. “come here,” she instructs next, reaching for your shoulder and simultaneously lying back to pull you on top of her.
instinctively, you lift your juice covered hand away from her, not wanting to smear the red berry remains across her skin (because jackie had made it clear that she would not be going for a swim today). it is up to your clean hand to keep your weight propped up as you lean over her, smiling long before your lips even meet. sighing against your mouth, jackie’s own hand runs up your back to come to rest at the nape of your neck, the other cupping your cheek as you melt into the kiss, tasting the sweetness of the berries on her smiling mouth, on her tongue.
Ok so frat lottie and reader basically being forced into marriage by their parents. No say in their own wedding or being able to enjoy things on their own timeline so as soon as they go on vacation they spend the whole time doing the most to embarass their family, hence face painting
— FAKE MARRIAGE HEADCANONS || FRATBOY!LOTTIE MATTHEWS X FEM READER
SUMMARY: aren’t you just a ray of sunshine, Matthews? You hated her since forever, but your parents decided that you’re getting married! As if it wasn’t already fucked up, you’re getting a gift; spending honeymoon with your annoying wife and both yours and her parents sounds great. Hurt/comfort. Fratboy!Lottie. Rich as fuck asshole parents. Alcohol.
WARNINGS: slight NSFW — MDNI
Lottie Matthews had always been a pain in your ass, one that, just a few days ago, had become your wife.
Your parents had always lived in their own little bubble, one where the two of you got married, had two children, and lived happily ever after. Lottie was supposed to take over her father's company, while you would become the perfect wife; raising the kids, cooking her dinners, and spreading your legs whenever she wanted.
The issue was, no one irritated you more than your wife. The wedding felt like it weighed a ton on your finger. It didn't belong there. You remembered the exact moment Lottie forced herself to kneel before you to the delight of both your families. Never in your life had you swallowed so much humiliation as you did that evening, smiling for the cameras and posing as though any of it was real.
There was one thing you and Lottie agreed on: the wedding was an absolute circus, and your parents would soon be staring at divorce papers.
"It just didn't work out," you'd say with your head hanging low, hoping they'd somehow accept it and, ideally, not strike your name from the will while they were at it.
You survived the ceremony. The cameras, the lavish decorations, the chapel packed to the brim with grandmothers, cousins, grandparents, and people you'd maybe seen twice in your life. Lottie had already been waiting at the altar, looking like a beaten dog. She had enough decency to force a smile whenever a camera pointed at her, but not a single tear fell.
You said your vows, said I do, and spent half the night watching everyone else celebrate in their precious display of high society elegance.
By dawn, your wedding dress had ended up tossed in a corner while you scrubbed layers of makeup off your face. Mr. Matthews, fucking generous Mr. Matthews, had booked the finest hotel suite he could find for the two of you.
You stepped out of the bathroom and looked at Lottie. She was rubbing her temples while sipping cheap wine she'd rushed out to buy a few minutes earlier. A small envelope rested on her lap, and she stared at it with visible disgust.
"What is that?" you asked, breaking the not so comfortable silence.
Lottie looked up and handed it to you.
"A present.”
You frowned, looking down at it.
A honeymoon in Greece.
"That doesn't sound so bad...?"
Lottie rolled her eyes as though you were too stupid to grasp the severity of the situation.
"Our parents are coming too."
After another stretch of silence settled between you, you grabbed the bottle and downed nearly half of it in a few gulps.
For the first time, Lottie kept her comments to herself.
***
As it turned out, there was at least one thing you and Lottie could agree on.
Since you were already being forced to spend entire two weeks with your parents, you decided you wouldn't be the only ones suffering. Years of showing everyone how much you disliked each other had accomplished nothing so you opted for the exact opposite strategy.
Why not embarrass everyone around you and ruin a few reputations while you were at it?
It started on the plane. Out of nowhere, you began acting like the perfect newlyweds, oh, so hopelessly infatuated with each other that everyone around you probably felt their teeth rotting from all the sweetness.
You had to admit it took effort. Changing your entire attitude overnight wasn't easy. Lottie certainly didn't make it any easier by simply being... well, herself. Smiling at her like a lovestruck idiot felt painfully unnatural.
Still, the satisfaction made the embarrassment worth it.
Your first strike came before the plane had even taken off.
Mr. Matthews had chartered a private jet for the whole family. There was more than enough room, as there usually is on luxury aircraft, but you made quite a performance of whining that you wanted to sit on Lottie's lap even during takeoff.
When you finally got your way, you stayed there for the entire flight, no matter how much Lottie's perfume made your throat itch. Your parents and the Matthewses kept shooting the two of you strange looks but neither side said a word.
"Wow," Lottie muttered without an ounce of admiration after you got off the plane and your family drifted ahead of you. "You almost managed to imitate my toxic ex."
You raised an eyebrow over the rim of your sunglasses. One of the hotel staff was wrestling your suitcase into the car.
"You really know how to compliment your wife," you replied sarcastically.
Lottie's face twisted into a grimace like the word wife caused her physical pain.
***
You'd been given one bed.
You didn't even know why you'd convinced yourself it might be otherwise.
Your luggage was already waiting inside. The room was spotless and spacious because, once again, Lottie's parents' generosity knew no bounds; not when it came to their beloved newlyweds. You looked out the window while Lottie collapsed onto the bed at full length. Exhausted to death, naturally.
Spoiled moron.
"We should drag them to the pool," you murmured, looking down at the sprawling resort below. "Cuddle a little or something."
Lottie muttered something incoherent in response, so you walked over to the bed and stood over her. "Did you hear me?"
"Perfectly." She sighed and waved a hand at you as though you were an annoying insect she wanted to shoo away. "I'm thinking."
"That's new."
Her jaw tightened.
"Believe me, I'd rather be sleeping next to Greek women and fucking them every night than putting up with you," she growled.
Before you could react, she'd already disappeared into the bathroom.
Something about her words made your stomach knot painfully.
***
"Hold me a little more affectionately," you murmured.
Lottie wasn't exactly holding you gently. In fact, her hands gripped your waist almost uncomfortably, as though she were clutching something slimy and gross. Her whole body was tense. You could feel the strain in her shoulders beneath your hands as you draped your arms around her neck.
"I'm trying," she muttered.
The pool was packed. Your parents lounged on sunbeds nearby. Your mother reclined lazily with a cocktail while your father chatted with a circle of wealthy businessmen.
You spotted an opportunity.
"Grab my ass."
"Excuse me?"
You seized her hand and unceremoniously planted it on your ass before pressing yourself against her even closer if that was still possible. The sun beat down on your back despite the sunscreen Lottie had pointedly rubbed onto you half an hour earlier.
"Oh," she breathed in surprise.
She blinked, then quickly collected herself and adjusted her grip. She didn't protest, because you knew she’s not saying a no to good ass.
You squirmed against her while keeping your eyes fixed on your parents. Your mother shook her head in disapproval before turning away with a heavy sigh. A tiny smile tugged at your lips.
Slowly but surely.
You frowned as you felt something warm and firm pressing between your legs, and you glanced up at Lottie. She had gone completely rigid, and her cheeks had turned the color of Greek wine.
”I can't control it," she said, shaking her head.
***
The next few days were filled with less than pleasant dinners with your parents, where you fed Lottie, collecting your parents' mortified stares with every bite. After two glasses of wine, Lottie happily plucked shrimp off your fork.
"Want more?" you snorted under your breath at the sight of her, briefly forgetting about the childish act and the whole performance.
She shook her head, her mouth still full of food. You leaned over, wiped the corner of her lips with your thumb, then licked it clean.
Lottie froze. She had to swallow another mouthful of wine.
The atmosphere around the table seemed to grow heavier. Music drifted through the restaurant while the sea murmured behind your back. Your parents looked utterly disappointed, so plan was working.
Maybe even a little too well.
Whether it was the alcohol or something inside Lottie finally shifting, that night she didn't argue with you over who got the shower first or who kept the blanket.
***
The real spectacle happened when Lottie returned from her morning run.
You were sipping coffee and picking at the hotel's breakfast buffet when she burst into the restaurant and practically threw herself at you. Your sleepy parents stared in disbelief, making sure they weren't dreaming or hallucinating. Even you froze, completely bewildered by what was happening. She kissed you quickly but intensely, and you could taste the sweat on her lips. She smelled like sea air and deodorant.
Several heads turned to watch.
Lottie peppered your nose, cheeks, and forehead with kisses.
"Morning, sweetheart," she panted, stealing your mug of coffee and draining it in one go. "I'm going to change, then I'll be right back."
Ignoring your parents entirely, she hurried off toward your room.
Later, when you asked about it, she only shrugged and said she'd simply felt like it. You could still feel her lips lingering on yours.
***
"So... what now?" you asked.
For the past thirty minutes you'd watched Lottie trying to start the Vespa. The scooter had stubbornly died in the middle of absolutely nowhere, miles from the nearest rental shop. Lottie had sworn she knew what she was doing. And, for the first hour, you'd actually been having a decent time considering who you were spending it with.
Your parents had finally grown so irritated by the constant touching and cuddling that they'd snapped and practically forced the two of you onto a Vespa tour around the island. Apparently they'd had enough of watching Lottie kiss your neck at the hotel bar.
Lottie scratched the back of her neck and muttered a curse under her breath. You rolled your eyes.
Her frustration simmered like a storm waiting to break. She paced around the scooter, trying everything she could think of. Oil stained the crease of her trousers, and she smelled of gasoline.
"I don't know," she growled. "Call my father..."
She angrily brushed the hair from her forehead before glancing at you. The heat was getting to both of you. Finally, she let out a long breath and sat down beside you in the grass.A breeze drifted in from the sea. Then Lottie did the last thing you expected.
Up until now, you'd convinced yourself that everything was for your parents' benefit.
Everything was about annoying them, ruining their nerves, dancing on their last shred of patience before divorcing as soon as you got back home.
That's what Lottie had kept insisting too.
But now there was no one around.
Despite the blazing sun, she leaned into your shoulder, breathing heavily. One wrong move, and she'd probably jump away, insisting it had been an accident. So instead of saying anything useless you kissed the top of her head.
She held your hand in her father's car when he had no choice but to come rescue the two of you.
***
Lottie seemed to enjoy putting sunscreen on you most when you were on the resort's private beach. She didn't hurry toward you with any obvious enthusiasm, but she talked less than usual. You came to the unpleasant realization that the only thing about you Lottie didn't seem to dislike was your body.
That was both everything and nothing.
Still, you couldn't deny you enjoyed her capable hands working sunscreen into your back.
At the end, she pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades, probably by accident or some strange reflex.
"Lottie," her mother clicked her tongue. "Not in public."
She stiffened and immediately pulled away. You hadn't expected her to protest, but she snapped back that she had every right to kiss her wife.Her mother arched an eyebrow.
"Save that for the bedroom."
So Lottie brought it to the bedroom.
Her parents were sleeping just beyond the wall.
Lottie stumbled into the room carrying a glass of liquor.
The two of you had spent the long dinner completely apart that evening. Your wife's frustration had finally boiled over, and you'd ended up arguing in the middle of the hotel lobby. She'd stayed behind at the bar while you returned to the room. You could only hope she wasn't busy fuckin other women.
You pretended to be asleep.
Lottie set her drink down on the coffee table. Your wedding dress was already hanging in the wardrobe while she struggled out of her tie. You heard fabric scraping against fabric, quiet curses and heavy breathing.
You rolled onto your other side, pressing your lips together.
The sounds stopped. Footsteps followed.You sensed her presence.
Lottie stood beside the wall and knocked on it.
"What are you doing?" you rasped at last, glancing at her silhouette in the darkness.
"The walls are thin," she replied.
Silence settled between you. Still tangled in her suit, she sank onto the bed.
Before you could speak again, she took your hand and brushed her thumb over your wedding ring.
"Will you forgive me?” she broke the silence, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
You wondered just how drunk she was. The solemn tone had come out of nowhere. You didn't answer.
You felt her hesitate, but only for a moment.
Her kisses traveled higher; through your wrist, the inside of it, your forearm. The mattress dipped beneath her weight as she crawled fully into bed, her body collapsing gently against yours.
"Will you forgive me?" she whispered again, scattering kisses along your jaw.
You weren't entirely sure what you were supposed to do. She was warm and even in the dim light, she looked impossibly good in that suit.
The two of you argued constantly, and Lottie never apologized, things usually just blew over. Now her alcohol laced breath warmed the exposed skin above your collarbone.
The walls are thin, you remembered.
You slipped your hand beneath the blanket and touched the bulge beneath her pants. She hissed sharply at the sensation.
"The magic word?"
She breathed unevenly for a moment before finally giving in.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she murmured.
The zipper of her trousers parted beneath your fingers.
"I want my parents to hear just how sorry I am.” She rocked her hips against your hand.
"Of course," you whispered directly into her ear. "They will."
Where a long shift ends with a small gift, a quiet celebration, and a reminder of how far Cassie has come
Warnings: mentions of a addiciton, sobriety, mental health issues, overdose, and suicidal thoughts
The Pitt masterlist | Words: 5k
-----
After years of practice, you had the morning routine of an early shift down. You and Cassie moved around the kitchen like a well-oiled machine, she was making a quick breakfast and filling your lunch boxes, while you got the morning coffee and coffee to go ready.
At the same time that Cassie put the lunch boxes in the bags, you added the coffee to go cups. The routine was perfect, and you loved that you were able to execute it to a tee, and therefore have an extra ten minutes before you had to leave the door.
You move behind your girlfriend and snake your arms around her waist. Placing a couple kisses to the back of her shoulder.
“Before I forget.” You say as you reach for something in your back pocket. “Harrison asked me to give you this today.”
You give her the envelope, kiss her shoulder one more time, and then grab the bags to give her some privacy.
Cassie turns the envelope around, for my mom. She smiles to herself seeing her son's handwriting. He was at his dad's now, and she wouldn't see him again until the weekend. It wasn't always easy to not have him constantly, but on days like this she remembered just how much it meant to get however many days she could with him.
She opens the envelope and takes out a card. A folded piece of paper, on the front were two people drawn in bright colours. They were hugging with some hearts surrounding their heads. She traces her fingers over his written words next to each person. Harrison. And next to the other drawn person, Mom.
If she wasn't supposed to leave in a couple of minutes, she would have studied every little detail on the front of the card before opening it, but she knew if she wanted to read the inside, she would have to do so now.
Dear Mom
I am very proud of you!!
Thank you for being my mom
Love Harrison
Maybe he realised what day it was, or maybe it was just a coincidence that he wanted to give this to her today. Either way, Cassie was tearing up reading her son's words.
When the clock strikes midnight that evening, she will have been ten years sober. A journey she started because of her son. The first year of his life she barely saw him, and she worked hard on herself to turn that around.
Cassie was wiping away some tears when you came back into the kitchen, “Everything okay?” She nodded. “Yeah, he's just the sweetest.” You smile and nod, agreeing with her statement.
Before coming your way, Cassie turns to the fridge, and grabs a fridge magnet to add Harrison's card to the rest of his drawings that you had collected in your home over the years.
In the five years the two of you had been together, Cassie had maybe once told you the anniversary month of her sobriety, but never the exact date. While making progress in her sobriety, it wasn't something she liked celebrating big. It was a positive thing to be able to add year after year onto her sobriety, but it still stemmed from something she was deeply ashamed of.
She assumed you knew her ten years were coming up, because just adding a year on top of Harrison's age was an easy reminder, but she knew that you weren't aware of the significance today had on Cassie.
You stepped into the driver's side of the car, and Cassie joined you on the passenger side. You don't know exactly how it happened, but if you were both working the same shift, you always drove to the hospital, while she sat behind the wheel on the way back home.
—
Dana gets out of her car beside you, and the three of you walk into the hospital together. You and Dana are heading the same way, and Cassie has to go in a different direction. She kisses your cheek quickly, before turning away. “See you in about fifteen hours.” You chuckle. “Optimistic.” You yell after her.
While working in the same hospital and every now and again being on the same cases, the hospital was usually busy enough to not see each other for hours on end while being in the same emergency department.
The night shift hands over the patients and your day instantly springs into action with incoming trauma after trauma.
You had been planning to ask Dana before shift started if you could slip out for fifteen minutes around twelve, but since the rush instantly started, you had gone straight to work.
—
Three hours in, you finally had a case with Cassie. An eighteen year old girl coming in after an intentional overdose. Cases like this always hit hard because they were so personal, but you knew they tend to hit Cassie even harder than they did you.
You lock eyes with Cassie for a moment when she enters the room, before she puts her focus on the patient as she introduces herself. “So, Jaimy, I am going to be asking you a lot of questions. I know it can be overwhelming, and if it does please let me know. The reason I am going to ask all these questions is to best assess your situation, so we can see how we can best help you.” Jaimy nods in understanding, and Cassie gets to work.
While Cassie is assessing the patient, you’re hanging a bag of saline. “Sorry, I just need your arm for a moment.” The girl holds out her arm reluctantly, not showing any reaction at you putting in the IV. She has been through a lot in the last hour, so you weren’t too surprised by it. Still you take a mental note, and look to Cassie before nodding back down to her arm. Cassie nodded back and continued her conversation with Jaimy.
You move around the room collecting blood samples and preparing the tests Cassie orders, while she continues talking with Jaimy about what drugs she took and mixed. As you move behind Cassie to check the output of one of the machines on the other side of the room, you put your hand to her back gently. She leaned into your touch slightly, a silent I’m here that you had been doing for years now and now just did without even thinking.
The machine is done with its test, so you hand the results to Cassie. She looks them over before putting in the orders for some more tests.
You move around the room, just in the background handing Cassie whatever she needed, and setting up whatever Jaimy needed.
Cassie pulls up a stool and sits down next to the young girl. The question of why she had done what she had done, had made the room go quiet. Jaimy’s tears start flowing freely, and Cassie reaches out to hold the hand laying down on the bed closest to her. “It’s okay, take your time.”
The room stays quiet besides the beeping monitors, and Jaimy’s soft sniffles. Both you and Cassie gave Jaimy the space she needed before she would be able to share her reasoning.
“It wasn’t just one thing.” Jaimy starts, wiping away some tears with her free hand. “It was everything all at once. University, my grades, my parents, my so called friends, just everything kept adding up, and my mental health was getting so bad and then I just-” She choked on her words for a moment, but continued after a deep breath. “I got tired. I just didn’t want to be here any more. I don’t want to be.”
Cassie squeezes Jaimy’s hands softly. “I am sorry the world has been feeling so heavy on you.”
“I don’t want people to think I did this for attention.” Cassie shakes her head, “I don’t think you did, you were overwhelmed, you were struggling, you didn’t see a way out. But there is a way out, and I am very glad that you’ll be able to have a chance to find it.”
“I feel like I’ve ruined everything.” Jaimy says somehow looking smaller than she did before. “Many people think that, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.” Jaimy huffs, “Easy for you to say.”
“You’d be surprised.” Cassie tells Jaimy, who instantly locks her eyes on Cassie with a found sense of curiosity. Slowly Cassie lets go of Jaimy’s hands and folds them into her own lap.
“There was a time in my life, where I didn’t think I could continue.” Cassie speaks slowly, her emotions high, but also her intention not on her but trying to help Jaimy. “I have made decisions I’m not proud of. I’ve hurt people. I’ve lost people.”
“I desperately needed help. Accepting it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. It wasn’t easy, and it still isn’t always easy. But with the right help, the bad days get less over time. I still have moments where I question if I’m doing enough.” Cassie’s eyes move over to yours for a second, but long enough for you to be able to read the guilt she still felt in them.
“But then I have days like this.” She continues when she looks back at Jaimy. “Work?” She asks, confused. “Helping people.” Cassie says with a smile. “I have a son at home. I have people who love me. I have a job I never thought I could be worthy of. My hard days didn’t disappear, they just stopped being the only days.”
Jaimy took in every word Cassie spoke. “I don’t know if I believe that can be the case for me.” She speaks after she lets it all settle. “That’s okay, you don’t have to right now. You just have to let us believe it for you until you're ready.”
The room grows quiet again as Jaimy nods. Until the silence got interrupted by a knock on the door and Dana’s head poking in to let Cassie know she’s needed for an incoming trauma.
“I have to head out for a bit, but I will be back to check on you soon. In the meantime, you won’t be alone.” She nods her head over to you, and you smile Jaimy’s way with a nod. Cassie stands up and walks to the door, but turns around before leaving the room.
"I'm glad your roommate found you." Emma swallowed hard at the words. “Me too.” She said so quietly that you almost missed it. Cassie smiled at the small step of progress she had made already. "I'll come back and check on you."
As she disappeared through the curtain, she caught your eye for the briefest moment. You offered a small nod. I've got her. Cassie nodded back before hurrying towards the next patient.
The emergency department never stopped moving, and neither did you. But, every now and then, in the middle of the chaos, there was enough time to remind someone that tomorrow was still worth showing up for.
You adjusted the settings on the IV drip quietly. Then Jaimy turns to you, “Can I ask you a personal question?” You nod, “Yeah, go for it.”
She hesitates for a moment, but she wants to know if Dr. McKay was telling the truth or just making up a story to make her feel better.
“Are you and Dr. McKay together?” You smiled, “We are, yes. Are we that obvious?”
Jaimy shrugged lightly, “I don’t know. It’s just the way you communicate without having to say a word, and how you move around each other like you know exactly how the other person works.”
You had no idea people noticed the little things that had come to be so routine to the two of you. “I guess we’ve learned some things after five years together.” You chuckle lightly, even earning a small smile from Jaimy.
“Is that all you wanted to know?” You push slightly, assuming there was more to the question. “Actually no, I wanted to ask you if she was telling the truth.”
“About what?” You ask, wanting to know if there was anything specific that she was questioning. “All of it.” She didn’t sound judgemental, just genuinely curious.
You sat down in the stool that Cassie left beside the bed. “Every word was true.” Jaimy stares down at her hands in her lap, running the sheets through her hand. “I thought maybe she was just trying to make me feel better, I didn’t know.”
“You’re good. She would never lie to a patient, especially not about serious topics like this.” You thought for a moment which parts of everything you could and should share, but you settled on something simple.
“I met her after she got help, when she was in a better place. I’ve been with her through many bad days though. I notice the guilt she carries, but I also notice the woman that makes me breakfast in the morning, even when she’s in a hurry. The mother that keeps all her son’s drawings on the fridge. The doctor that makes sure every patient is heard, and gets the proper care. The partner that has learned to cook my favourite meal, so she can make it on my bad days.” You think for a moment, was that everything you wanted to say? Then you think of one more thing to add. “I might not have known her back then, but I’ve known the woman she has worked very hard to become.”
Cassie stood at the door, hearing the last part of your conversation. She had spent years wondering if people would always see the worst version of her first. Her heart warmed after hearing you speak so effortlessly about the life she had built. Cassie wanted to run in and hug you, but this moment wasn’t about her, it was about Jaimy.
“She really has all that even after going through lows like that?” Jaimy asks softly. You nod, “She built it. Piece by piece. It didn’t happen overnight, of course. It happened because she kept choosing tomorrow.”
“Do you think I could?” Jaimy’s eyes started watering again. You reach out and put your hand on her lower leg. “I think today probably feels impossible.”
“It does.” She fills in. “And I also think that McKay would’ve said exactly the same thing if you had asked her ten years ago.”
Jaimy was quiet again, taking in your words this time. “I hope she’s right. And I hope some day I get to have someone like you in my life.”
“How’s that?” You ask her. “Someone that looks at me and talks about my bad days as a chapter of my life and not my whole story. You squeeze her leg, “I know you will, and you do. Right now, you've got us in your corner. And we're going to make sure you leave here with people who'll stay there too.”
Cassie gives it thirty more seconds before she walks fully into the room to check in on Jaimy. You give Jaimy’s leg one more squeeze before you give them the room, quickly reaching out for Cassie’s arm as you pass her.
—
As you walk out of Jaimy's room you notice the time and immediately check your phone.
“You alright?” Dana, asks from behind the nurse's desk, noticing instantly that something is on your mind.
“Yeah, I’m good. I’ve just been meaning to ask if I can slip out for like fifteen minutes in a bit, but it’s been so busy. And I hate to do this so last minute, but if it's possible could I do that right now?”
“Not unless someone’s dying.” Dana instantly jokes, and you chuckle. “No one is dying, but it’s very important.” Dana raises her eyebrows. You never asked to step out, especially if it was busy. You were one of the nurses she knew she could always count on. “How important?”
“Very important. Please Dana, I’d owe you.” The corners of her lips curl up slightly, “Fine, but fifteen minutes. Not a second longer.”
With Dana's permission, you rush out of the emergency department, and head to the parking lot where the notification said they'd be waiting.
When you see him standing there you smile wide. “Thank you so much for doing this. I wish I could stay and chat, but I really have to get back to work.”
The man smiles when he hands you the black velvet box. “Not a problem, and my pleasure. Tell Cassie congrats from us.” You smile back at him, “I will, thanks again!”
Once you're back inside you manage to not run into Cassie, but since she knew your locker combination, you needed a different place to store the box. Dana, you thought, Dana would keep it safe.
Back at the nurses desk Dana looks at her watch, “Now why did you have to sound so dramatic, you were literally gone for five minutes.” You smile sheepishly, “I know, I felt bad about taking longer.”
“You managed to do what you had to do, though?” You nod, “Yes, I did. And about that, can I please owe you another favour?”
Dana laughed, she hadn't even cashed in the first favour and you first favour and you were already asking for a second.
“Please, I need you to keep this safe during the shift.” You pull the box out of your pocket, and Dana gasps. “Omg!” She exclaims loudly, then followed by a soft, “You're proposing to Cassie?”
You hush her and shake your head, “No, shut your mouth before the whole emergency department starts telling my girlfriend that I am.”
You open the box to show Dana the silver and blue Sobriety Coin. The charge Nurse instantly turns serious, “Ten years, wow.”
When you hear Cassie’s voice coming closer, you quickly close the case and shove it into Dana's hands with pleading eyes. “I've got you.” She says as she quickly tucks it away in her drawer.
Cassie stops next to you, “Hey, do you have a moment to talk about Jaimy?” You tell her you do and follow her, but not after mouthing a quick thank you to Dana.
She doesn’t stop walking until you’re in an empty patient room, away from all the noise of the emergency department floor. Cassie slides the door closed behind you, it feels like she is working up toward something big and important, which is confusing you a little, but you don’t push her.
“So, I talked more with Jaimy. She’s medically stable, and psych will clear her sooner than later as well.” You nod along, as it sounds like the standard of care with patients like her.
“I don’t like sending her home. I asked her who she could call if she was ever in a bad place.” Cassie looked defeated for a moment, “She stayed quiet. She doesn’t have anyone in her corner.”
You step forward, and reach out your hand to her arm, letting it slide down until you can interlace your fingers with hers. “I need you to hear me out, no Cass you know that’s against the rules, just please listen.”
With a nod of your head and a soft squeeze to her hand, Cassie continues. “I know we’re not supposed to get attached, but she reminds me of me. She needs someone in her corner the way I did when I decided that I wanted to get better. I wouldn’t do this without your permission, but if you were okay with it too, I would like to give her my number. Let her know I am in her corner, be there for her, check in on her. Be for her who I needed back then.”
You pull your hand away from hers, “Cass,” she drops her head, feeling the no coming. Which she would take because she knew doing this was against work rules, and would affect your relationship.
But instead of saying no, you pulled a piece of paper out of your pockets. You hand it to your girlfriend to read.
bad day?
call us whenever
cassie & y/n
Along with both your phone numbers written down. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” Cassie smiles, “This means a lot, thank you.” She looked out onto the floor quickly to see if no one was near, when she saw the coast was clear she reached out her hand to grab yours and pull you closer to her. She pressed her lips on yours shortly, before pulling you further into a hug.
Together you walk back into Jaimy’s room. The two of you standing at the end of her bed.
“Earlier you mentioned you didn’t have anyone to call.” Cassie starts softly, not wanting to scare her off with it. “We’ve been talking, and if you’re comfortable with it, we would like to change that.”
You take the note out of your pocket again, and hold it out for Jaimy to take. She reads the note and then looks between the two of you.
“You don’t need to do this.” She insists. “We know, but we want to.” You tell her, but she wasn’t convinced that easily. “Why?”
Cassie takes that answer. “Because someone did it for me once, and it changed my life.” Jaimy nodded slowly, “Okay.”
—
The rest of the shift blurred together. Just like every day in the emergency department. There was barely enough time to process one patient before another came into the department in need of treatment.
A teenager with a fractured wrist.
An older patient experiencing chest pain.
A crush injury after a car crash.
A toddler that spiked a high fever.
The ever changing board kept you busy for every hour of your shift. The only constant in your day was catching glimpses of Cassie.
Sometimes you only caught her for a second, walking into a patient room as soon as you laid eyes on her. Other times she walked past the nurses station while you were standing there as well discussing something with Dana. She offered you a tired smile as she walked by.
Once, she caught your eye from the other side of the department floor. She looked exhausted, you felt exhausted too. You okay? You mouthed her way, she nodded before getting pulled away by Javadi.
Whenever you had a minute between patients, you found yourself in Jaimy’s room. Not because she needed you medically, just because you knew waiting in an empty hospital room was lonely.
She was waiting on a psych consult, but you knew she had to be here for a bit longer before they would speak to her. You kept her company while you could, working on some notes on the stool next to her bed, or if you had the time striking up a conversation to get to know her better.
By the time night shift started to filter in, you were mentally and physically exhausted. You were finishing handovers when someone clapped their hands, “Who’s coming for a drink?” You chuckled at the chorus of groans and half-hearted agreements around the nurses station.
Javadi looked at Cassie, “Are you joining?” Your girlfriend smiled apologetically, “Not tonight, I think I desperately need my bed.” Javadi chuckled, fair enough. Then she looked over to you with a questioning look in her eye. “Another time.” You said with a tired smile.
When she walks off, Cassie turns to you. “You didn’t have to decline just because I wasn’t going.” You smile her way, “I know, I just want to be with you tonight.” Cassie smiles back, “Yeah, me too.”
Before leaving the department, the two of you stopped outside Jaimy's room. She looked up from her bed and smiled your way, maybe just as tired as the two of you smiled her way. “The night shift is taking over from us.” You said gently. “We’ve caught them up on everything, and you are in good hands. I promise.”
Cassie takes over. “Remember we are only a call or text away always. You don't have to do tomorrow on your own." Jaimy's eyes filled again. “Thank you." You knew she wanted to say more, but she didn’t have the words. So, you reach over and squeeze her shoulder, “We’ll see you soon.”
—
The car ride home was quiet. You were both exhausted after the long shift, so you just sat in silence with the radio playing softly in the background. Cassie’s right hand laid comfortably on your upper thigh, while her left was on the wheel.
Back at home you took Cassie’s back, like you had done every night when you got home. “Go run yourself a bath.” You say as you kiss her cheek. “I’ll order dinner.” Cassie pulls you back into herself and hugs you tight, “You’re the best.” Her kind words bring a smile to your face. You place a long kiss to the top of her head.
As soon as you hear the bath water running, you rush to the bedroom and place the velvet box in your nightstand without Cassie noticing it. Then you place the food order before changing into a pair of sweats and one of Cassie’s sweaters.
The food arrives while you are scrolling on your phone, seeing what messages you missed over the course of your workday. You quickly hit send on your reply to Harrison’s message asking if you gave his mom the card, before you get up to walk to the door to grab the food. Of course, it’s hanging proudly on the fridge.
When you turn back around Cassie walks in, her hair still wet, one of your old college shirts on, and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms she had stolen from you years ago. “What are you smiling about?” She asked with a tired smile. “Nothing, you just look super cozy.”
You have dinner on the sofa. Just the two of you, a bunch of takeout containers and the new episode of your favourite show playing on the tv. It might not be much, but after your long shifts, this was perfect.
When you were heading to bed, it was nearing midnight. You watched the clock as you sat down onto the bed after brushing your teeth. One minute before midnight, perfect you thought.
The moment Cassie walked into the room, you patted your hand on the bed to come sit with you. She had a confused look written on her face, but it was late, she was tired, and you were asking her to join you in the bed, so she just complied. “What’s up?”
You just smiled and took her hand in yours. “I just wanted to take a moment to tell you how proud I am of you. You know I am proud of you every day, but today with Jaimy, I got to see how much you’ve grown over the years.”
Cassie’s heart was beating fast in her chest. She was grateful for you, but a part of her would always feel like she didn’t deserve any of it. You rub your thumb over the back of her palm to get her focus back to you.
“I know you don’t like celebrating you big, but I did want to do something to celebrate you and how much progress you’ve made.” You lean back so you can open the drawer of your nightstand.
When you sit back up again, you’re holding the black velvet box in your hands. “I wanted to be able to be the first to congratulate you, and give you this.”
You hand the box over to let Cassie open it herself. She takes it and slowly opens the box, not sure what to expect. The silver coin with blue accents reflected the dim light from the room.
At first she just stares at the coin. She lets her thumb run over the X in the middle, once, then twice. As if she couldn’t believe it was real. The X indicates ten years of sobriety. Ten years since she decided she needed to change.
Tears well up in her eyes, as she looks up at you from the coin. “You knew?” You nod, “Of course, I knew.”
She puts the coin back into the box and puts it to the side so she can fall into your arms. You hold her tight, rubbing circles over her back. “You’ve worked so hard to come here, and I am so very proud of you for choosing tomorrow every single day. You are an amazing person, so caring, so loving, and I am glad to have you in my life.”
Cassie sits back up again, a serious look flashing over her face. “I overheard part of your conversation with Jaimy earlier. ‘I’ve known the woman she has worked very hard to become.’ Those words hit really deep, and I wanted to thank you for speaking about me like that even when you don’t know that I am around to hear.”
You reach out your hands and wipe a couple fallen tears off her cheeks with your thumbs, before kissing her slowly. The kiss was soft, but passionate. It spoke a millions words of love and gratitude without ever having to physically say them.
The kiss gets interrupted by the buzzing of both your phones at the same time. You each reach out and look at your phones at the same time.
They’ve moved me to psychology for the night
Thank you for everything
Jaimy
The two of you smiled at the message and the groupchat name, My corner. A silent look between the two of you that meant you made the right call to not follow protocol on this one. You each sent a message back, before putting your phones on their chargers.
You kiss Cassie again, and pull her down to lay down in the bed. You lay down on your back and pull Cassie into your side. She lays her head on your chest, and her hand on your lower stomach. “Thank you for loving me.”
You press a long kiss to the top of her head. "You never have to thank me for that.”
It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall asleep after that.
-----
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yeah if jackie taylor looked at me like THIS, while sitting like THAT and told me to put on the dress she wants i’d do it no questions asked. i would not fumble, i would not hesitate
agreed with the “lottie matthews summer” but what about summer with gf!lottie matthews?
-🌺
SUMMER WITH LOTTIE MATTHEWS
» lottie matthews x fem!reader.
— warnings: fluff, fluff + even more fluff. fem!reader. implied non-sexual nudity (not sure if that even needs a warning on this blog, but oh well).
alright, first of all, princess treatment with girlfriend!lottie?? she will carry your bag, your water bottle, and your sandals, even if it’s just a 5 minute walk across the sand, and constantly fuss over you, once you find a nice spot at the beach, tucking your sunglasses over your nose when you forget, adjusting the towel under your head, and what not, only settling beside you once she’s made sure you’re as comfortable as you can be.
also girlfriend!lottie who insists on paying for literally everything you could possibly need!! older!girlfriend!lottie who loves spoiling you…..?
girlfriend!lottie who (unlike nat...) actually remembers to reapply her sunscreen, and still ends up a little pink across the bridge of her nose. she’s always reminding you to reapply your own, too, tugging toward her by the arm so she can smooth lotion into your shoulders. “if i do your back, you’ll do mine, right?” lottie teases, laughing when you press the sunscreen into her cheeks with both hands, squishing her face between them.
girlfriend!lottie who wraps herself around you like a very tall koala in the ocean, legs latching around your hips, with her arms wound across your back. between waves rocking you, she kisses your shoulder, mumbling: “i like it here,” as she’s brushing your hair from your throat so she can find more skin to mouth at.
girlfriend!lottie who loves beach bonfires!! they give her an active excuse to wrap a hoodie a (preferably one of hers) around your shoulders and pull you into her lap after dark. “you’re warmer than the fire anyway,” she’ll murmur, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck. while the rest of the team is drinking around the fire, you sit together, her chin hooked over your shoulder to hold you close.
i already wrote a blurb about this but slow mornings with girlfriend!lottie!! waking to the feeling of lottie, brushing her fingers over your hairline and whispering, “you look so pretty like this”!! lottie who gets up first, laughing at your attempt to stay buried in the pillows!! lottie who insists on making coffee & cutting up some fruit, slipping a piece between your lips. “one bite, baby,” she giggles when you refuse to open up for her & try one. “then you can go back to sleep.”
girlfriend!lottie who gets soooooo flustered when you wear one of her old t-shirts (her soccer jersey, even) + bikini bottoms to the beach <33
girlfriend!lottie whose sleepy ass ends up falling asleep while sunbathing. the two of you both lounge under your beach umbrella together, lottie on her back while you’re curled into her side, grains of sand still sticking to your calves.
she hums sleepily when she feels your nails trail across her stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “are you bored?” she asks.
“no,” you mumble, fingers looping through her bikini tie. “just like touching you.”
that gets lottie to peek one eye open, a sheepish grin on her lips as she shifts to her side to face you and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, before then cupping your cheek with her palm and leaning in for a kiss.
on that note: girlfriend!lottie who genuinely cannot (and won’t) stop playing with your fingers when you’re lying together: she’ll trace each knuckle, then threads and unthreads your fingers only to at last lift your hand and kiss your palm.
ice cream dates with girlfriend!lottie, except she insists on getting separate cones & different flavors, so that you can share and each have some of the others’ (in the end, she ends up eating most of yours…).
cones on hand, you’re walking down the boardwalk when lottie glances down, noticing some (what’s left of it, anyway, after she asked to ‘try it just one more time,’ like ten times in a row) of your ice cream melting down your wrist. “you’ve got something there,” she says sweetly, leaning down & licking up the strip.
“lottie!” you squeal, surprised by the sudden warmth of her tongue on your skin. “did you just lick me?”
licking her own cone again, lottie rolls her eyes and mutters: “drama queen.”
night swims with girlfriend!lottie…? dunking each other under? her chasing you through the shallows until she catches you, lifting you around the waist and whispering ‘mine’ against your collarbone….? skinny dipping with girlfriend!lottie…….?
girlfriend!lottie who buys a disposable film cameras at a beachside shop and starts documenting the whole entire trip on film, taking pictures of everything from your legs tangled in a hammock to your sunscreen smudged nose, and your silhouette in front of the waves at sunset. you’re her literql muse on film!!
pairing: Shauna Shipman x f!r
summary: If you had to pick just one moment where everything started getting complicated, it would have been that first day of class last spring. The day you met Jackie Taylor and her maybe-sometimes girlfriend Shauna Shipman. Jackie really didn't seem to be a great girlfriend, but that was up to Shauna. You just really wished they would break up.
note: first fic in a while, so be gentle, please. thank you.
Usually, the first day of classes wasn't even worth attending. Not when you still had all that unpacking to get around to. But you had thrown all your stuff in boxes more hastily than you're used to, so even syllabus week seems more inviting than sorting through that mess.
The location of the class should've tipped you off, but you hadn't realized how fucked you really were until you stepped foot inside the room. Far too small for the number of people on the roster you'd barely glanced at this morning.
It was one of those room choices designed around half the class dropping out eventually. Suddenly you wished that you had spent more time in the fall going through your professors' reviews.
You're left with your choice of seats in the very front row, all less appealing than the last. Your most promising option has you taking a seat beside a woman far too happy to be awake this early, but when compared to everyone else in the front row, she was the least of your worries.
She barely glances up as you slide in beside her, far too focused on her computer to pay you any mind yet. That was fine. You really didn't want to have to hold a conversation this early anyway.
Her notebook is propped open beneath her laptop, colorful pens sitting carefully by its side. The perfect example of studiousness, if not for the boutique website left carelessly in her browser as she switches between it and the syllabus when she catches you looking.
It's not like you meant to snoop on her, still trying to get your own stuff together from the mess that was your backpack the first day of the semester, but all the color on the page had caught your eye for just long enough to be noticeable.
She smiles playfully as she raises a finger to her lips, silently asking you to keep it to yourself. You aren't sure what she thought would happen if you went and told, especially since class hasn't even started yet, but you just shrug in response.
Something that she seems to take as an invitation to start a conversation.
“I'm Jackie,” she says, leaning over to offer her hand to shake like it was some sort of business deal.
You watch her bemusedly, noting the way her smile slowly starts to become strained around the edges the longer you wait before finally taking her hand to shake it. There was something so painfully eager about her that it meant you couldn't just not shake her hand.
Her hand was soft and smelled faintly of the lotion she must have applied that morning, holding onto yours a moment too long before letting go. It was far from the worst handshake you'd ever had to give, but still something you would rather have avoided.
If the woman had given you a choice, that was.
You give your own name back, and Jackie immediately starts in on the questions.
Maybe you should have just made the guy taking up two seats move his bag instead.
…
You sneak another look at the girl in the library three tables down, trying to remain inconspicuous when you really want to just stare. It's hard not to when she looks like that. It's ridiculous that this girl can exist in the same library as you, and you're expected to just study. It would take an act of Congress to get you to fully pay attention when she's so close.
That constant air of angst combined with a blatant disregard for human life, as shown by her muffled laughter when some overzealous boy sent himself tumbling down the bottom two stairs in his rush to class, has you entranced. You can honestly say that you’ve never met a girl quite like her before.
In your more poetic moments you wonder if a girl like her has ever existed before. It’s utter nonsense that you would mock anyone else, but you think it regardless. That’s why you keep it to yourself.
So many times you think about walking up to her, but you can't seem to come up with anything worth saying to her. Something tells you that “the worst she could say is no” does not apply to her. You've spent enough time daydreaming in her direction to know that much.
Especially after the glare of utter hate and destruction she had given the last guy that tried to chat her up while she was studying. You fear for your life. Isn't that just the hottest thing ever?
The only things you know for certain about her are that she's left-handed, likes to read, and rarely leaves her dorm without a flannel on. All in all, you consider it to be promising so far. Especially that last part, though you can never be too sure anymore.
She bites down on the end of her pen between short bursts of writing, gnawing thoughtfully on it as she stares down at the notes in front of her. You like to watch the way her face lights up when she hits a breakthrough on whatever she’s doing. So responsive when she thinks no one is watching.
The benefit of not really knowing someone is getting to fill in all the blanks of her personality. Sometimes you imagine her cruel and sharp; other times she might be quiet and a little shy—occasionally flirty and playful. Everything and nothing all at once, rearranged into whatever shape feels the most appealing that day.
The details are different, but the ending is always the same.
It's through no fault of your own that you finally get caught. She's looking right at you, just as shocked as you are to see someone staring back. You think about waving at her for the half second it takes to recognize that it would be the lamest thing ever. Your arm twitches beneath the table in an aborted motion, thankfully hidden from view so that you don't make a total fool of yourself.
You don’t always need the help in front of pretty girls. Things like that tended just to happen naturally.
You look away first. Instinct, maybe. Or embarrassment. Some mix of both that exists only for you to make a fool of yourself. When you risk another glance, she’s still looking right at you. Expectant and a little amused at your expense. She could laugh at you all she likes as long as she keeps staring at you like that.
You’re not going to get a better chance than this to make a good first impression, and the fact that it’s magically fallen into your lap doesn’t bother you at all. You deserve a nice thing after all of this pining you’ve done.
Normally, this part comes easily to you. You smile, maybe tilt your head a little as you feign embarrassment at being caught. Half the time the other person smiles back; the other half they look away and pretend like it never happened. She doesn’t do either of those things. Just steadily watching you like a predator stalking prey.
Are you sweating? You feel like you might be.
Something about that girl makes it feel impossibly difficult to approach her, like every step toward her would drag through tar. You imagine the sound of your footsteps echoing through the library, sounding out to everyone that some loser is approaching a girl totally out of their league. Then there’s the concept of speaking, which leaves far too many variables. You could forget every word you know if she glared at you the way she glared at that boy.
You decide to risk it anyway, halfway out of your seat when your view of her is blocked by someone else. You huff as you sit back down, annoyed at someone else having the same idea as you. Right until you notice how familiar that new girl looks as she turns to look back at you.
Jackie waves with her fingertips, smiling so sincerely that you can see it in her eyes. She has such kind eyes, which makes it even worse when she leans down to whisper something in the brunette's ear before taking her by the hand.
As Jackie drags the woman of your dreams along with her to your table, you come to a devastating realization.
Of course she has a girlfriend.
Shauna.
You learn her name at the same time you learn how utterly outmatched you are by Jackie. Shauna being unobtainable wouldn’t stop you from imagining she wasn’t even if you couldn't do anything about it. It’s gotten you this far.
…
You definitely should have chosen a different seat.
It's not that Jackie was all that terrible to deal with. She's actually really grown on you after a while. It was her girlfriend that was the problem. Rather, the fact that Shauna was dating anyone that wasn't you.
You thought it might make you a bad person to pine over your friend's girlfriend like that—to pine to a pathetic extent when you felt particularly self-loathing—but Jackie wasn't all that great of a girlfriend in your opinion, anyway.
She talked about other girls in front of Shauna far too often, almost like she was testing her reaction. You're not sure you would've been brave enough to do it in her shoes. Then there were the constant party invitations from people Jackie doesn’t seem to like that well but feels compelled to accept anyway. Always dragging along a miserable-looking Shauna just behind her until she inevitably ditched her for someone else.
Shauna Shipman was the prickly sort. She never seems to associate with anyone but Jackie and the occasional other, and anyone else that got close enough got met with a wall of nothing. Maybe she didn’t make the best company at a party, especially when she got a few drinks in her, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a lame thing for Jackie to do.
If Shauna was your girlfriend…
Well, there was no point in dwelling on that if you had any hope of having a good night.
If you hadn't spent so much time with her through Jackie, you might think she is the quiet, bookish type. It wouldn't be incorrect to think that, but you end up losing one of your favorite parts about her. How snarky she is. Always under her breath or after the person has already left, unless she's gotten drunk enough to lose that scrap of restraint that usually holds her together enough to be a semi-functioning member of society.
Sometimes you dream about what would happen if she finally lost that scrap. That civility that keeps her Jackie’s.
…
“Shut up.” Shauna groans, burying her face into her hands as if it could hide her.
Her being embarrassed at your expense is a small price to pay to have a conversation this long with her. It has to be the longest you’ve ever spoken without Jackie joining in one way or another. It was nice to be here with her like this, even if it stings to know it's not in the way you really want it to be.
Jackie's necklace hanging around her neck is a reminder enough of that, even as you do your best to ignore it. You've gotten depressingly good at that lately. Maybe one day soon you'll start to actually believe it. What a relief that would be.
You grin, nodding your head insistently. “No, I'm serious.”
The two of you have been swapping stories for the better part of an hour, and the one you just told was a pretty dumb situation on your part. That undeniable urge to make a fool of yourself in front of her has never quite faded. In your defense, judging by her choice of girlfriend, she's into that.
You're not sure if you could ever get tired of listening to Shauna talk. She's so hard to get going, but once she starts talking, you can manipulate her into continuing. Like a cat that you have to coax out from behind the couch. Slow and steady.
Shauna seems to enjoy your attention. You have the feeling that she doesn't get a lot of it. Not nearly as much as she deserves, but that's the problem with staying so close to Jackie. You're more than happy to be the one giving it to her, even if that should be Jackie's job. In your more jealous moments, that's something you fixate on.
“Seriously stupid,” she mutters into her palms. Shauna pulls her hands away from her face, giving you a long, searching look. “I know you're serious. That's the worst part.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” you ask.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
Shauna's mocking voice shouldn't sound nearly as enticing as it does, but the way condescension looks on her should be a criminal offense. Even the way she immediately softens it with a laugh as she takes another sip from her drink does little to negate the impact.
“Guess who,” calls out a sing-song voice from behind you as two soft hands slip over your eyes.
It doesn't take long to guess who that is. No one else would have the audacity to come up behind you like that at a party when you're so clearly trying to have a conversation. Especially a conversation with a girl who looks like that. No one, that is, but her girlfriend.
“Jackie,” you say, batting away her hands as you turn to greet her.
Jackie beams at you as she leans close, one arm wrapping around your shoulder in a half hug before pulling back. She rests both palms on your shoulders as she looks at you, eyes flicking up and down as she judges your outfit.
She squeezes before letting go and pushing past you. You're choosing to take it as approval unless told otherwise. It was generally the best way of dealing with Jackie.
That rare glance of an easygoing Shauna is gone again when you turn around. Replaced by a terse smile and a closed-off posture that makes you want to weep in frustration. You were so close to getting somewhere before Jackie came in to remind you that it wasn't possible.
That guilty feeling wells up again as you look at how happy Jackie is to be near the two of you, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she stuffs her hands in the pockets of her jacket.
Your jacket, technically. You let her borrow it earlier in the night. Her usual refusal to wear a jacket over her dress is biting her in the ass yet again. Always insisting that she didn't need one even though she would start rubbing her arms after five minutes outside. It might just be a devious plan on her part to collect more jackets because someone always gave one up for her.
You could count on it.
Shauna can hardly pull her eyes away from it. You wonder what that's about as she mutters something unintelligible beneath her breath and stomps off.
“Wow,” Jackie says. “Brood much, Shipman?”
It takes everything in you not to respond negatively to that. She was here all of five minutes, and she's already sent Shauna off running. All of your work down the drain. Jackie's just making it so difficult to chat up her girlfriend tonight.
“Really?” you ask dryly.
“What?” Jackie gives you a bemused look as you walk off in the other direction.
“Was it something I said?”
…
Shauna was fond of this one particular tree outside of her dorm, and though you didn't see the appeal of it, you knew it was always a good place to pretend to run into her.
It was always the same exact tree, despite the abundance of them in the area. Just far enough away from the others that you didn't risk having a friend group sit too close to you. That was probably the appeal for her. You've never seen anyone else but Shauna sit at this particular tree, probably for their own health.
Whether Shauna would be ballsy enough to try to run them off, you're not sure. Sometimes it felt like she burned with the fire of a thousand suns, and then other times you couldn't get her to ask for her drink to be made correctly.
“What exactly does 'wuthering' even mean?” you ask, scooting closer on the grass to peer over Shauna's shoulder as she reads.
Shauna snaps her book closed like she got caught doing something she shouldn't have. The glare on her face was pre-loaded as she turned her head slowly toward you.
It's not your fault she was so easy to jump-scare. Your muffled laugh does you no favors, but Shauna has decided to be the bigger person for once and let it go. A difficult decision for her.
“You had to interrupt me to ask that?” Shauna asks.
She's avoiding looking directly at you. Suspicious.
“You don't know, do you?”
“Shut up and die," Shauna groans irritably but doesn't even bother to deny it.
“Isn't that supposed to be, like, your thing?”
“Because I'm an English major, I should know every word ever?”
“Exactly,” you agree, shooting Shauna a charming smile just to rub it in more.
If she didn't want to be rage-baited, she shouldn't fall for it so easily. Really, you were just doing your civic duty when you really think about it. She needs thicker skin if she's going to have such a short temper.
The fact that she looks so hot when she's pissed at you plays a part in your enjoyment. The way her eyebrows furrow together, shading her furious brown eyes and the heat that now lies in them. Her jaw tightening just enough to sharpen it, turning the normally soft lines of her face into something you might cut yourself on. She was so intense like this that you could drown in it and be happy.
“I hate you,” Shauna mutters, leaning closer toward you.
At first you think it's meant to be intimidating. It's Shauna, after all. Strange methods of freaking you out are to be expected from her. Jackie's the only person that seems to know what Shauna's thinking even half of the time, and even she falls flat sometimes. You can't possibly be expected to understand why she does these things.
It’s only when you realize she's looking at your lips that you start to get concerned. You wonder if you've gotten something stuck in your teeth, barely resisting the urge to run your tongue over your teeth to check in favor of trying to pull away.
"Trying" being the key word, because the moment you start to move, Shauna's grabbing a fistful of your shirt to keep you in place. The noise that escapes your lips is embarrassingly close to a squeak, but you think anyone in your position would act similarly.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You can't help but ask.
You're not expecting a real answer. That would require a level of self-reflection you're not sure she's capable of. It's just something to break the tension of having her pressed so close to you without doing something regrettable.
Shauna looks terribly pleased at the words, which does something to you. She rarely looks so happy about anything. It's a fairly new experience for you, and you're enjoying every last second of it even as you're trying not to freak out.
You're not sure if you can really feel her breath against your face or if it's just wishful thinking.
“You know what your problem is?”
Oh, that's something you know the answer to: lots of things. Beginning with literally everything else and ending with your sudden and intense urge to taste Shauna's chapstick. You would very likely taste Shauna's fist next, but it would be a small price to pay for salvation.
Luckily for you, it seems to be a rhetorical question. With the way you're struggling to think anything but “please, please, please,” it's for the best.
“Your problem,” Shauna continues, leaning in close. Now you really can feel each and every syllable against your lips. “Is–”
“Jackie,” you interrupt suddenly, pulling away from her like you've been burned.
The very mention of her name douses every bit of heat inside you. It was a reminder and a warning all at once, something you desperately needed to hear. Look but don't touch. Remember? She was a painting in a museum you could only observe from afar, and here you are getting your fingerprints all over her.
You're losing track of your metaphors as well as your mind.
“What?” Shauna asks, spitting the word out like it was filth on her tongue as she rears back in surprise.
You don't answer. You're too busy scrambling to your feet and running away to justify yourself.
“Just remembered something. With someone. I have to go to it.”
You wince. Something with someone?
“Bye, Shauna,” you add.
You've got to stop reading into things like that. The only one that keeps getting hurt here is you.
It's got to stop.
…
Your head swivels back and forth between them as they talk, struggling to follow the conversation on account of how much of it seems to be references to things that happened years ago or inside jokes you aren't privy to. It's one of the most frustrating experiences of your life, and it's starting to become a biweekly occurrence.
After all this time spent dragged along from one place to the other, you would think you would start to get some understanding of it, but you might actually be more lost than the first time you met them.
Inevitably your attention falls to Shauna. Namely, the way her crop top exposes her stomach just above where the band of her jeans digs into her skin. You can see that red line of irritation there where her jeans rubbed against soft skin, and there's a part of you that aches to soothe it with your tongue.
But then Jackie shifts just enough in her excited rant that it exposes the two of them holding hands just below the table, and all thoughts of licking Shauna are put on hold. Not forgotten.
The sight of it makes you wilt, ruining those brief moments of daydreaming between being faced with the crushing knowledge that Shauna wasn't up for grabs. You've never seen a couple more attached at the hip than the two of them are. It's not even worth entertaining, but you can't stop the traitorous thoughts regardless.
“What do you think?” Jackie asks, finally looking away from Shauna to meet your eyes.
Your heart speeds up at being faced with their sudden combined attention, made worse by the fact that you have no idea what they're even talking about. There's no one to blame for that but you, but you'll find a way to make it Shauna's fault given time.
Jackie sets a good example.
“Sorry, what?” You ask sheepishly, ignoring the way Jackie's lips twist into a pout in favor of the amused twitch of Shauna's lips.
She takes a sip of their drink in a way that shouldn't feel nearly as obscene as it does. Enough that you have to force yourself to look elsewhere lest you get caught staring directly at Shauna's lips.
Completely missing the thoughtful look that crosses Shauna's face.
“You're not even listening,” Jackie complains.
“What an asshole,” Shauna adds.
“Yeah. Jerk.”
In the time it takes you to decide if they're actually upset at you, an increasingly likely possibility given how impossibly short Shauna's temper could be, Jackie's already begun to giggle. Answer enough for you to roll your eyes and toss a packet of salt at her.
It nails Jackie right between the eyes, cutting off her giggling with a sudden silence. Pure disbelief as it settles onto the table in front of her. It earns a rare laugh from Shauna, obvious despite how quick she is to try to cover it up with a cough.
Jackie doesn't buy it either, picking the packet off the table to toss it at Shauna, who easily bats it out of the air.
They dissolve into another round of bickering that you're more than happy to take advantage of, slipping away to join the end of the line in front of the counter.
You can only faintly hear the sound of them arguing, so it's not a big surprise when you don't notice the sound of it ending. What you do notice is the sudden presence by your side and the brushing of fluttering fabric against your legs. Shauna's oversized flannel tended to announce her presence just as surely as a hello could.
“Jackie won the argument?” You ask expectantly.
“No,” Shauna says unconvincingly. “I was just tired of sitting.”
Jackie looks far too smug at the table behind you for that to be anywhere near true. That girl could pout for hours on end and certainly wouldn't be over it that quickly, especially not when Shauna was involved. You can't blame her for that one: Shauna could get insufferable when she won an argument.
Right. No reason to rub salt into her wounds.
“You want another coffee, then? I’ll buy.”
“No.”
Oh, well–
“I’m buying.” Then, after a moment. “Yours too.”
You kick at Shauna’s shoe with the tip of your foot, scuffing the top of it. Shauna doesn’t even spare it a thought, but you know it’ll annoy Jackie later when she catches sight of it. Always running after her to fix her outfit like she was a toddler with something on her face—brushing lint off her sleeves, straightening her collar, and fixing her ponytail.
You figure it’s probably good practice for an education major.
“Weirdo,” you mutter. “Who says it like that?”
“What?” She sputters, pushing at your shoulder just a little too hard.
It sends you stumbling a step back before you can correct your momentum, your arms fumbling cartoonishly to right yourself again as Shauna watches on with thinly veiled amusement. The heel of your shoe squeaks against the floor as you try to regain traction.
She probably shoved you that hard on purpose, wanting to watch you struggle. That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
"Menace."
Shauna seems to take it as a compliment. That doesn’t really surprise you. Deep down, beneath the embarrassment of fighting for your life in this coffee shop, you probably meant it to be one. There’s something about talking to Shauna, being with Shauna, that comes so simply to you. It’s like breathing, some impossibly easy thing that you don’t appreciate like you should.
If things were different, you could see it meaning something. You think about that a lot. What it would be like if you could actually have Shauna. To hold her hand as you drag her away from her journal and out of her room to see daylight for the first time in hours. Getting to brush away the strand of hair that always falls out of her ponytail, your fingers getting to brush against her face instead of just wondering what it's like.
But if there was no Jackie, would there even be a Shauna? At least, would it be a Shauna you could recognize? You aren’t so sure. Half the time you talked to either of them, you could practically see the big red label—this is a set; do not separate them. So intrinsic to each other that separating them would defy the purpose of wanting Shauna in the first place.
But things aren’t different.
Not for you.
“Listen,” Shauna says after you’ve regained your footing. “There’s this party this weekend. Are you going?”
“There’s a party every weekend,” you say. “What makes this one so special?”
“It’s not.” She shrugs, shoulders hunching lightly. From what you aren’t sure. You didn’t think anything could make Shauna nervous. “It’s just…I’m going to this one.”
That gets your attention. Everything she does gets your attention, but this feels less pathetic to admit. For Shauna to get dragged along to a party was one thing, a common thing, but for her to announce it was strange. For her to act like it’s a normal Shauna activity is even weirder. You hope the stress isn’t getting to her—no one would walk away from that fallout.
“It, uh, doesn't really sound like your thing,” you admit, lip twitching as you try not to laugh.
Shauna rolls her eyes, running a hand through her hair before kicking you lightly in the shin. Well, at least what a former soccer player considers lightly. You struggle to keep from wincing visibly. You do not succeed. She was determined to put you on bed rest today. A part of you hopes it bruises. A rather large part.
“It could be,” Shauna says, more out of sheer stubbornness than out of any real desire to convince you.
She seems to find the whole idea just as ridiculous as you. She exhales sharply, irritation flickering across her face like you were some problem she couldn’t quite figure out.
“Sure. You might just become a math major too.”
Shauna's worst subject by far, one that has led to many a rant on the ways pre-calculus will never be used in civilized society. It's always easier just to let her tire herself out before asking a question about whatever incredibly esoteric subject she's writing an essay on now, likely the subtext of apples in Gothic literature or something equally inane.
She scowls at the very mention of the word, an argument already poised on the tip of her tongue before she thinks better of it, struggling to find something more neutral.
“Maybe we could go,” Shauna offers, fingers playing with the ends of her sleeves.
“You and I?" you ask.
Shauna's face falls, a frown taking the place of that pretty little smile. She hesitates as she mulls it over.
“And Jackie,” she says, hesitating long enough that the mood starts to sour.
There it is. Your disappointment feels like a physical thing with how quickly it comes on, settling low in your stomach like a weight. Not a date, no matter how delusional you try to be. Something always comes along to pop that bubble sooner or later.
“No, sorry. I have a group project I need to finish next weekend.”
A lie. One that Shauna likely recognizes but doesn’t call you on. She reads you freakishly well sometimes. A little superpower for someone who couldn’t lie her way out of a wet paper bag.
“That's too bad, then,” Shauna says stiffly.
Her guard is up again like it was never lifted. You regret turning her down even if you know it’s the right thing to do for your own sake. There are only so many weekends you can watch the two of them hang on each other before it starts to become stupidly pathetic and you prefer to average out around a normal amount of patheticness.
God, this year was not going the way you planned it at all.
“Yeah,” you say.
Shauna seems like she's thinking about saying something else before deciding better of it, muttering something about her feet hurting before walking back to Jackie.
You push it from your mind as you finally get to order, wondering bitterly if the two of them are whispering so furiously about you or something else entirely.
…
You thought the two of you had some sort of understanding up until now. You've considered her as a friend for most of the time you've known her—pointedly reminded yourself that was all she was when you felt pathetic enough—but Shauna has really been pushing it lately.
Like right now, as she makes another snarky comment on your annotations.
“You know you don't have to highlight everything, right?”
It's just disingenuous enough that it might have gone over your head completely if it weren't for the attention you pay her. That slight edge to her voice is such a Jackie move for someone who usually spoke so carelessly.
Apparently Jackie was rubbing off on her in more ways than one. You suppress the urge to scoff at the very thought of it. No matter how promising the images may seem in the safety of your mind. Thinking about that too hard was the last thing you needed to be doing for your own mental health. Someone has to draw the line somewhere.
“I'm sorry,” you say dryly, setting your highlighter down as you sit back in your chair. Even her sudden urge to pick a fight with you sounded better than continuing with your reading. “I didn't realize you were paying for them.”
“You highlighted the whole fucking page. You might as well have highlighted nothing at all.”
You spare a brief glance at the page just to confirm that, yep, just that single line of highlighted text. Shauna could get annoyed at the sound of someone's scratchy pen three tables down, but you've never seen her actually comment on it before. Just that furrow of her brows as she gripped her pen tighter and grumbled under her breath.
There’s nothing you could have possibly done in the last hour to earn her ire besides being here when Jackie wasn't. The thought was more depressing than it probably should be. You have got to stop letting Shauna get to you so much. Putting yourself at the whims of Shauna’s mood swings is just asking for trouble, but you end up doing it again and again.
“Are you serious?” The words come out sounding a touch more incredulous than you mean them to, but no less true because of it.
“Are you serious?” Shauna mocks. “If you don't want to be here, just go.”
If you didn't know better, you might think that she was pouting as she spoke. The feeling of hope that rose up in your chest was silly. Just because Shauna was upset at the idea of you not wanting to be here with her, which she created entirely in her head, didn't mean that she liked you in any special way.
Shauna was protective of her time and her space, and you know she would much rather be in her room hiding with her journal than out here in the library. She's probably just looking for an excuse to leave.
“You don't have to sit here and draw all over the paper,” Shauna continues, either unaware or uncaring of your lapse in concentration. You’d put money on both at once.
“I’m not—" You trail off, frustrated.
You run through every possible thing you could say in response, and nothing fits.
There was just no arguing with her when she gets like this. She was worse than Jackie in that way, since she wasn’t as easily placated with compliments and words of affirmation. Was there anything you could say that she wouldn’t take as an excuse to get more upset? You didn’t think so.
“Do you know why Jackie couldn’t make it?” You interrupt, hoping to quell the irrational anger you’ve suddenly become the victim of. The two of them love talking about one another. It was usually the safest possible topic to change to.
“Why don't you fucking ask her since you're so friendly now?" Shauna spits.
It was the wrong thing to say. You realize that immediately. There might actually be smoke coming out of Shauna's ears, but it could also be fear-based hallucinations. This is the point in the movies where you start getting flashbacks of your life. You half expect to actually see some, but all you get is the sound of Shauna’s chair crashing to the ground as she stands up.
She shoves all of her things in her bag and storms off, leaving you sitting alone in the library as everyone around you stares. It only takes a second to lose their attention again as they turn back to whatever assignment is currently ruining their lives, but it might just be the longest second of your life.
You watch Shauna the whole way out, conflicted in more ways than one. Sure, you didn’t understand what you did to piss her off so badly and saw yourself as the innocent victim in the whole exchange. On the other hand, Shauna somehow got impossibly hotter when she was angry.
Was it really a loss?
If you don’t wake up to her holding a knife to your throat tonight, you’re going to consider yourself the winner of this exchange. Hell, you might still be even if she does.
You breathe out slowly as you begin to pack your things up, wondering how on earth you’ve fallen for someone so clearly unwell. You and Jackie both. At least you’re in good company.
…
You do your best to ignore the increasingly grating sound of your roommate talking with her boyfriend on the phone, a feat that's lasted at least three hours, in favor of scrolling aimlessly through your phone.
"Aimless" is what you tell yourself, at least. In reality, you threw yourself into your bed the moment you got back from class to scroll through Jackie's page and pretend like you weren't only looking at the pictures of Shauna. It was becoming a weekly routine at this point, but Jackie posted so many things with Shauna in them that you always had something to look at.
Shauna hasn't answered any of your texts since the day in the library, and you're starting to get desperate. Desperate enough to even text Jackie about it despite your fear of her reading into it. The string of emoji hieroglyphics you received in response was enough to have you give up instead of trying to decode them.
All you can do is hope she comes to you when she's ready. Unfortunately for you, Shauna can hold onto imaginary grudges until the sun burns out. There's really no point in holding your breath.
You tense as you get a post notification from Jackie, wondering if it would be too pathetic to open it immediately. Reflexively, you tap to open it before you can think much on it. There's no point in delaying the inevitable. If there was even a small chance of catching a new picture of Shauna, you would be there.
That's where the problem starts: how excited you are to open it. You miss the first time, accidentally tapping too far down the screen. Just low enough to like the picture you're looking at. The picture of Shauna and Jackie from move-in day two years ago.
You unlike it as quickly as you can, but you know it's already too late. Jackie ran her Instagram like the navy, so it's impossible that she would even miss it happening. All you can do is hope she isn't mad about it. Or, even worse, would be her telling Shauna. Your only hope is Jackie not telling the girl she tells everything to.
You think you might be sick.
The worst possible outcome, which is becoming increasingly plausible the longer you stare at your phone in muted horror, is Shauna coming to the conclusion that you liked it for Jackie. A reasonable conclusion to come to given that you're seemingly scrolling years back on Jackie's account. It's not your fault that Shauna uploads once every decade, but it's about to become your problem.
Shauna was entirely too possessive over Jackie. You've seen her go off on people just for standing too close to her or bumping into her in a crowd. The thought of what she might do to you if she thought you were seriously interested in Jackie is so terrifying you can't even find it in yourself to make it hot.
She might actually kill you.
The least you can do with your few remaining days of life is to enjoy the picture that might have killed you.
You close the app immediately after opening, slamming your phone down on your bed and burying your face in your pillows to muffle your groan of despair.
It’s the last thing you might see as a free woman, and the two of them just have to be all over each other in it. Jackie was practically climbing her like a tree as she hung onto Shauna's arm. Their inch of height difference has never been so obvious.
It just wasn't fair.
…
The first time you hear someone call out your name, you think you might be imagining it. You can just barely hear it over your headphones, and it's hardly the first time you've turned around at the sound of your name only for it to be for someone else entirely. No point in wasting time when you already have so much you need to finish today. The closer it gets to finals, the more your social life inevitably starts to slip away from you for a time.
Besides, the only person you really want to see right now has decided she isn't talking to you for some unknown reason you can't make sense of. Then again, you aren't entirely sure women were meant to be understood in the first place. Especially one like Shauna. Mildly feared but never understood.
When you hear your name a second time, louder and angrier, you finally swivel your head around to look. It's Shauna. Pissed off and rapidly gaining ground on you.
You immediately start to speed up despite knowing how pointless it is. Shauna talking to you is what you've wanted all week long, but you definitely didn't want it like this. She looks liable to cut your head off, and you quite like having your head attached.
Protests of that nature wouldn't matter when she caught up to you. A feat she was approaching far quicker than she should. Every time you glance back, she's somehow closer than before despite only walking after you. Maybe those movies aren't as unrealistic as you thought.
A hand grabs a handful of the back of your shirt before you know it, a sure grip that might cause butterflies in your stomach if not for how roughly she jerked you back toward her dorm building. You're being led to the executioner's block by the most likely suspect.
You say something vaguely protesting, if only to feel like you haven't let her drag you around like a misbehaving child, but Shauna gives you a look so annoyed that it cuts off in your throat halfway through.
Some blonde girl in a hat you've never seen before gives you a wide-eyed pitying look as you pass by her in the hallway. You can't help but wonder how badly Shauna's been terrifying her hall for that to be the only reaction to your plight.
It's only when Shauna pushes you inside her dorm room that it dawns on you that you've just allowed someone that short to manhandle you across campus.
Fight back, damn it.
You open your mouth to say something witty only to quickly close it again as Shauna's eyes narrow.
You clear your throat. Not because you're nervous, no. It's just stuffy in here. That was it.
Their room looks exactly like you would expect it to. Some attempt at a theme on Jackie's side that had clearly lasted no longer than a semester on Shauna's. Vague remnants of matching decorations were replaced by band posters and Polaroids.
Looking around only puts off the inevitable, and it's obvious Shauna's come to the same conclusion as she sits down at her desk chair and crosses her arms over her chest.
You delicately take a seat on the edge of her bed, hands folded in your lap as you try to think of something to say other than “please don't kill me.” A great thought in theory, but you don't want to give her any ideas if she hasn't already thought of it.
“Why her?” Shauna asks.
You startle at the suddenness of the question. In truth, you'd half expected her to try to death-glare you into breaking the silence. It probably would have worked, too, had she given it another few minutes.
“What do you mean?”
Shauna scoffs.
“It's always her. Always. Fucking. Jackie. Why?” Shauna doesn't even give you a chance to answer. She just barrels right ahead like you aren't even there. ”Is it because you met her first?”
Shauna buries her head in her hands, elbows digging into her thighs through her jeans as she hunches over in her chair. She looks like she might actually start to cry, all that anger and frustration melting into something far softer than you've ever seen her before.
She's soft enough that you dare to scoot closer to her on the edge of the bed, centimeters at first turning into inches the longer she stays motionless. The entire time you keep waiting for her to snap out of it and yell again. Just playing dead until you're in biting distance.
“Shauna…”
You nudge her leg with the tip of your shoe, then again harder when she doesn't react the first time. You're primed for a third attempt, but she kicks your shin before you have the chance to take it. It's not nearly as hard as she could have hit you.
The sting of it is enough for you to decide never to try that again, but it's gotten you exactly what you wanted: Shauna's undivided attention. You're not sure how much you want it now that you have it. Those watery brown eyes seem to throw accusations at you that you struggle not to collapse under the weight of.
“What about Jackie?” you ask.
Playing dumb could work if you play your cards right. Shauna was very susceptible to thinking everyone else was stupid, something that you were already banking on. It might have hurt your feelings if it weren't so convenient at times like these.
Though you aren't exactly sure why liking Jackie's photo landed you with a teary-eyed Shauna. You were expecting an angry Shauna. If they were enraged tears, you might have understood it more; as it was, you were at a loss.
It's not like you haven't seen her cry before, but she was usually significantly more drunk before even approaching the point of tearing up.
Not that she was crying, of course. A part of you is afraid she might realize you've noticed.
“It's always her,” Shauna repeats insistently. There's that familiar edge of frustration lining her voice saved for Jackie alone. She never talks about anyone the way she talks about her. It's enough to make you hopeless. “She doesn't even like you, and it's still her.”
You frown self-consciously as she speaks. Jackie's your friend, after all—she must like you in some capacity. Not nearly brave enough to point that out, you keep your mouth shut on that point. No need to invite violence.
“I don't like Jackie.”
For a moment it's quiet enough you could almost hear a pin drop before you rush to add the most important part. “Like that, I mean.”
“Yeah,” she says, scoffing in disbelief, “because you've really been acting like it lately.”
“Was this about last night? It was an accident, really. I was… scrolling to see when her birthday was.”
That sounds reasonable.
“Bullshit. At 2 AM?”
Maybe not.
You shift your arms across your chest defensively, feeling caught and wanting to put some distance between you. Not that something that simple could ever stop Shauna, who likely saw it as an invitation more than anything else. Right now it feels like the only thing holding you together.
“I was already up.”
“Doing what?” she presses, quick and sharp enough to cut.
You hesitate just long enough for her to notice. She notices everything. How could she not when you're the sole object of her attention for once?
“Right,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. She sits back hard enough to make the chair rock back.
“That doesn't mean anything,” you snap, defensive enough to make the whole thing sound suspicious. “I can look at someone's profile without it being whatever you think it is.”
“Pathetic?”
“Right.” You roll your eyes.
“Obsessive?”
“Alright.”
“Creepy,” she adds.
The word lands harsher than all the others somehow. You can feel it in your stomach and in the way your jaw tightens. That's what finally sends you over the edge.
“Enough, Shauna,” you snap, standing up despite the way it immediately sets her on edge. “I got it. You don't have to–”
“Sit down.”
The words have barely left her lips before you've done just that. “Sorry.”
“You liked that picture of Jackie,” Shauna says coolly.
“I didn't.”
“I fucking saw it. Jackie showed me the notification. A picture from two years ago? You didn't have anything better to do on a Friday night but stalk her?”
Shauna looks like she's this close to violence.
“Look, I'm sorry.”
“You're sorry? You're fucking sorry? Great.”
“I know she's your girlfriend,” you say, running a hand through your hair and leaning back to create some distance. You barreled past the flicker of confusion in the crease of her eyebrows.
“It wasn't about her, okay? She wasn't the only one in the picture.”
“What?” Shauna asks. Her gaze is intense enough to pin you in place on that bed. You feel like something she's about to dissect.
You squirm in discomfort. Of course she would make you spell it out to her. “I was looking at you, okay? You don't post anything with you in it, and she does. She's all yours.”
“Jackie's not… not mine.” Shauna's confusion at the idea is distracting enough that you almost miss the rest of it. “You were looking at me?”
“Everyone knows Jackie is your girlfriend, Shauna. You hang off each other like you'll die if you're separated.” You're a little disappointed Shauna would even try something like that.
“What?” Shauna repeats, sharper this time, as if she says the same thing enough times, it will change your answer into something else.
“What?” you echo weakly, unsure of what angle Shauna's trying to take on you.
“You think I'm with Jackie? Our Jackie? Jackie Taylor?” Shauna lets out a humorless laugh. She stands, pacing the length of her twin bed as she looks at you. It would be ridiculous if she didn't look so good when irritated. “You think that I'm the one dating Jackie?”
“That's–yeah,” you say, faltering beneath the weight of her stare. You nod needlessly. “That's what it looks like. To literally everyone. Everyone with eyes.”
Shauna shakes her head, slow and incredulous. “No. No. We're not… That's not–no. Never ever.”
“Never… ever?” you ask slowly. Your stomach drops as your idea of the world around you shifts on its axis.
Shauna nods dismissively.
“She told me you were into her,” she accuses. “That you liked her posts. I've seen it. You've been flirting with her, trying to get her attention.”
“I haven't,” you say, stunned. It was the last place you saw this conversation going. “I was trying to get your attention.”
“My attention?”
The words are said with such a childlike wonder that it makes you a little sad for her. Then she comes to a stop right in front of you, and your thoughts shift to something else entirely.
“You could've just said something. Said anything,” Shauna says, jaw tightening as she grabs you by the shoulders.
“You're always with her,” you shoot back, glad to finally have somewhere to direct months worth of frustration and heartache toward. “How was I supposed to do that when you're attached at the fucking hip? I've never even seen the two of you cross the street on your own.”
Shauna shakes you by the shoulders. Not hard enough to really hurt but enough to stop the avalanche of accusations leaving your mouth long enough for her to grab the back of your neck.
“Do you ever shut up?”
You barely have a chance to get offended before she shuts you up herself. Out of every way she could have done it, her lips against yours was the best possible choice. Somehow it’s nothing like what you imagined and everything like it all at the same time. That was Shauna for you.
Even with everything you’ve wanted, you still selfishly want more. Need more. Shauna, for once, is on exactly the same page. She doesn’t even break for air as she climbs onto your lap, thighs bracketing yours and forcing more contact. Her bed creaks in protest beneath her knees, but that’s the only protest voiced in the room.
You finally break apart only long enough for Shauna’s lips to make their way to your neck. The better word might be "teeth" because that’s all you can feel as she bites down.
“Fuck,” you hiss, head thumping back against the wall behind you to give her more room. You want to give her anything she’s ever wanted. Anything you can give. This is just a benefit.
She laughs breathlessly when she lets up. There’s something so different about her like this. Happy. It’s a smile that you’ve never seen from her before, but you quickly find yourself addicted to it. Without her usual glower, she looks so much younger. All you can do is stare at her and try not to look too in awe.
“Hey,” she says shyly, clearly uncomfortable with the attention even as much as she enjoys it.
“Now you want to be shy?”
“Shut up.” She pinches your arm through your shirt in punishment before smoothing out the fabric. Shauna squeezes your arm like she can’t bear to let go.
It’s your turn to laugh. That was more familiar. It was enough to put you on more firm footing.
“We should probably talk, huh?”
Shauna nods thoughtfully before running her hand down your arm, grabbing your hand and leading it to the hem of her shirt.
“We could do that, or…”
You grin, running your hands up her sides and taking her shirt along with it.
