#glg

YELLOWJACKETS W/ VERY FEM READER!

★,｡･:*:･ﾟ Shauna Shipman. .

- You’re all bubble, beauty and sparkle and honestly at first she found that kind of annoying. Maybe even saw you as weak—like, you’re so girly and pretty you should’ve been in cheer or something other than the soccer team (her unjustified dislike towards you was, actually, probably just internalised homophobia and hating you for giving her all of these feelings)

- However, once the plane crashes and you’re all stranded. You truly show that you’re more than just this pretty princess who really reminds her of bubbles from the Powerpuff girls (everyone else on the team already knew you were more but she never allowed herself to dwell—subconsciously trying to prevent any of the feelings from getting worse) but no. You’re amazing out there. You’re very resourceful, you’re efficient. And sure, you always do make sure your hair is all silky and brushed in the mornings: you even make fucking perfume from the flowers once yours runs out.. but these are things she’s (regrettably) coming to really, really adore about you. Fuck.

- Once you two actually get together, it’s done. She’s gone for you. Like, pathetically bad. She indulges all of your whims, no question - she’ll trek out into the wilderness in the pitch black and freezing cold if you wanted a specific flower to make a new perfume. She made you flower crowns in replacement when you lost your one bow that survived the plane crash and were upset about it. Especially later seasons Shauna: as time goes on in the wilderness, she’s get so possessive over you. Unhealthily so. She literally doesn’t care about anyone else expect you and will do anything to keep you alive and happy. Sometimes she’ll give you a bit more food than one of the other girls (cough Mari) without anyone noticing, because hey. She wants you alive. Who gives a fuck about them?

★,｡･:*:･ﾟ Natalie Scatorccio. .

- She honestly thinks you’re cute as fuck, not that she would ever say that. You’re so completely her polar opposite but she actually admires that about you. Again, not that this pussy would say anything to you. She likes your vibe more than she’s comfortable with: she likes your bows and your lace and all the pretty pastels you wear like necessity. Sometimes, in quiet private movements she will never ever admit to, she imagines taking that bow out of your hair and watching the pretty locks tumble, running her hands through them. She imagines kissing off that sparkly lip gloss and having it smeared all over her own lips as well.

- The plane crash happening only solidifies that uncomfortable squirmy stomach feeling you give her. You’re so on it. Not that she thought you’d cry and bitch and let everyone else do all the work but still, seeing you. In your torn pretty pink shirt and your mudded jeans, gash on your soft cheek, stomping around the wreck and bandaging people up with whatever supplies you had—comforting people, sorting through all the luggage and making plans. Shit. She feels weirdly safe around you, which she never feels around anyone mind you. (And seeing an absolute babe of a femme taking charge isn’t something she doesn’t not enjoy)

- Regardless if you’re together or not, she doesn’t want anyone to dim your sparkle. No one says anything bad about you really—but if anyone did, she’d be there. Defending you like it’s what’s keeping her alive. Like there’s no fucking question. Your bubbly soft nature is something she lives for and she’ll do everything in her power to keep it thriving, no matter how many friendships she has to tear down to do so. You are really the only light in her life.

- When you’re dating, Natalie is definitely the more silently devoted partner type. She doesn’t make a big deal out of her love: it’s a quiet, fierce and achingly genuine thing. Private kisses and sincere compliments instead of big gestures and spectacles. She worships you and she feels for you something she’s never felt with anyone else. Giving you forehead kisses and lingering caresses before she goes off for a hunt. Staying in ‘bed’ cuddling as long as you want. Truly listening and giving you all the time you need. Braiding your hair for you. Soft, honest consideration and care.

★,｡･:*:･ﾟ Jackie Taylor. .

- You’re sort of like ‘rival’ personalities in school, you know? With a half hearted friendship, at least on her half. Because you’re both very popular, you both play for the soccer team, you’re both gorgeous girls with hot, equally as popular boyfriends. (Ugh fuck you’re so pretty it just annoys her). She hates staring at you—lie—because she can never bloody look away—truth. It really frustrates (read: confused ‘straight’ girl flusters) her that way she always seems to be thinking about you. Like, what? She doesn’t even like you! You’re basically her competition in the school hierarchy.. and yet, you constantly plague her mind. Weird.

- Jackie feels even more weird and probably strained towards you after the plane crash because she thought you’d be in her boat. But no—you really seem to manage. You don’t bitch or moan and you certainly don’t embrace it, but you make do. Somehow. You’re steady and smart and you plan, all while looking and sounding just as much like Fluttershy from My Little Pony as you usually do. Ugh. You take to it in a way she doesn’t and you’re still you. It upsets her, and all around aggravates her. (The smatterings of butterflies that dance around her stomach as she watches you only aggravate her more).

- Eventually, you end coming together after a blow-up. Jackie ends up having a one-sided screaming match with you; she’s just so tired, scared and frustrated with everyone and you’re just so not and you always seem to be everything that she just can’t be. So blows up. And well.. it ends differently than she thought it would: you’re kind. You talk her down with a soft voice and gentle reasoning and by the end of it, she’s in your arms and sobbing into your chest. From then on, you grow closer as she realises you’re actually.. so not what she thought. You’re the only one that makes her feel heard and sane and honestly comfortable, these days. She takes to you very quickly from there—and as your relationship progresses, you honestly soften her as a person. She’s less biting and you help her learn how to actually help out, and deal. You make her feel like her again.

★,｡･:*:･ﾟ Lottie Matthews. .

- Pre-crash Lottie and you are best friends!! She’s pretty feminine herself and she really, really enjoys your whole aesthetic—and just you as a person. 1000% you’re the closest friendship she’s ever had!! You share everything—makeup, clothes, books, tips on how to get yourself off!! You know, casual best friend things ha. Really, you’re best friend goals: she was even kind enough to suggest you learn how to kiss together, by practicing on one another. Sleepovers are filled with makeout sessions—but hey, you’re just practicing! (The only time it was ever really practicing was when you were both 13 and it was for the first time. You were each other’s true gay awakenings). Sometimes she’ll model for you in lingerie that she brought, pretending that she brought it with a guy in mind when really it was for you—this usually ends in aggressive making out and groping.

- Pre-crash Lottie is playfully possessive more than anything, even if you do sometimes catch the genuine clenching of her jaw, but after the crash… girl. This bitch is on you like a barnacle. She is so possessive and protective over you. Like you’re just her beautiful little princess fairy she wants to hold close and protect. Always sitting by your side around the fire, hand rubbing a bit too far up your thigh. Setting up on the cabin floor right next to you—like, I’m talking barely two inches of space. Sneaking kisses in the night when everyone else is asleep and she rolls all the way over. Obviously, she’ll never be overbearing (oh!)—she’s just incredibly devoted to your health and safety. You’re, also, the only person who makes her feel safe and thus she’s more inclined to seek your presence.

- Once the wilderness starts effecting her and she begins having her visions again.. well. She only seems to cling tighter to you, both metaphorically and literally. You’re her haven, her soft safety net in pretty pastels. You ground her in a way nothing else ever has. Just sitting in your arms, head tucked into your neck and eyes closed—allowing all thoughts of anything other to dissolve is all she needs. Muttering gentle worries and nonsensical mumbles into the sweet skin of your throat. Confiding in you. Something in her always feels right when she’s with you—like yes, this is where I should be. A sort of truth that reverberates through her weary bones. You’re right. This is right.

- Lottie who’s fully affected by the wilderness at this point is wholeheartedly convinced you are some sort of deity. She is in love with you, just as the wilderness is in love with you. If you’re officially ‘dating’—she takes it more like marriage, honestly. This is a certain forever thing to her, a fact she makes known constantly through declarations against your lips, into your hair, into your knuckles as she kisses them slowly. Savouring you. Cherishing you. She truly worships you in a way that is almost religious.

★,｡･:*:･ﾟ Van Palmer. .

- Openly flirting with you. Sometimes she’ll make it more jokey and mocking—like ‘cute bow princess’ with a little cheeky grin when she’s mentally picturing you with just your bow on. But other times she really will make it blatant—‘you looked so fucking pretty out there you’re lucky I actually managed to save all those goals, bubbles’. You’re either under the impression she’s messing around, in which case you flirt back and she, promptly, short circuits or you’re just flustered as shittttt because come on. Van is pretty bold—she doesn’t really hide the fact she obviously finds you attractive, despite being your ‘friend’. But there is a part of her that genuinely doesn’t believe she deserves you: sure, she’s confident but you’re you, you know? Beyond gorgeous, talented, a total sweetheart and funny to boot. Ultimately she just wants to see you happy, under all that flirting.

- You end up saving Van, when the crash happens. Hearing her screams and coming running back in—your perfect hair all strewn and mussed, blood along your arm, pretty pastel purple summer dress mudded and bloody too, racing towards her and using all your might to undo her belt and get her the fuck out. You are, simply put, her angel. Van couldn’t give a shit less if anyone thinks she’s being dramatic about that—and she’s dead serious: you weren’t really far off from being an angel to her anyway, but this? This just solidified it. From that point on, she feels closer to you. More than she ever has with anyone ever, really. Making a point to accompany you… everywhere. You need a piss? She’ll escort you and find the prettiest bush she can. You’re going down to the lake? Funny! So was she.

- Her angel. Her pretty fucking angel. Is even bolder and more open with her intentions now, but with an extra aching softness. She really is the gay stereotype of a yearner. You mean more than you will ever known to her, and she can’t tell you enough how it really is not just your looks. It’s your everything—the way you make her feel so light and alive. So free and content in a way she’s never felt before. So full of love and genuine joy: she doesn’t have to fake anything with you or for you. She can just be.

- Van was already practically crawling on her knees after you with the most obnoxious heart eyes before you were together but you when you actually get together? It’s seriously ridiculous times tenfold. The littlest touches from you make her shiver. Her pupils dilate just admiring a strand of your hair. Her whole goal for her days is to make you giggle and smile. And now she can openly show affection? She literally will not stop. Picking you up around your waist and spinning you randomly until you’re in fits of laughter. A hand always on your back or in your hair. Cuddled so closely you’re basically one, her head nuzzled into your chest, warm content breaths against your skin—no place she’d rather be. She’s anything you want her to be: your bodyguard, your puppet. She’s so gone she even lets you test out the ‘makeup’ you’d tried to make from berries, etc, on her—just leans into your touch on her cheek and closes her eyes with a dopey grin. Whipped.

★,｡･:*:･ﾟ Taissa Turner. .

- Tai is more in Shauna’s boat. Without knowing you, she judges you. Sees the delicate sparkly jewellery, the shiny hair, the perfectly done makeup, smells the warm perfume that makes her stomach tingle and thinks superficial. Your bright smiles and your genuine giggles make her a mix of secretly flustered and slightly annoyed—come on, there is no way you can be that much of a sweetheart. Ever skeptical, she thinks you’re just.. fake, really. However. At one practice, in which Tai ends up getting injured—nothing serious at all, but even slight mistakes embarrass and frustrate her like no other. She played it off and you were the only one to notice—you didn’t make a big deal out of it, you simply flounced over looking all perfect, discreetly handed her a bandage and her water bottle, asking a quiet sincere ‘are you okay?’. She thought differently of you from that day. Not noticeably. Not really. But to her it was noticeable. Her eyes lingered on you, and sometimes when you sprayed your perfume near her—she breathed in a little deeper, wanting to catch it. Seeing your smiles and knowing you mean them makes her heart beat with emotions she’d rather not name.

- When the crash happens, Tai panics. In a way that both surprises her and doesn’t, pumped on adrenaline and gut wrenching fear. Where are you? That is what’s racing through her head. When she finds you—soft locks of hair fallen from your bun, baby blue dress half torn and bleeding from your leg, looking so devastatingly perfect and alive—she hugs you. Engulfs you, really, would be the right term—in a flurry of emotion and limbs, launches herself at you. From then on, she knows in herself what she feels for you. Every day after—she keeps her eye on you, discreetly (mostly). Making sure you’re there, breathing. It’s all she needs at the moment, all she feels is really getting her through. Speaking with you, hearing your voice, laughing with you—quietly catering to you, it becomes her escape. The only times she feels normal. Feels happy.

Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: You discover that Rhaenyra went to King's Landing and things don't go well.

Word Count: 1,3K

Warning: ANGST, mentions of war, mentions of deaths, mentions of betrayal, mentions of child deaths, power imbalance, brief sex, nipple sucking, lesbian sex.

note: this story is new and is also available on my AO3.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

You hurriedly walked through the halls, holding the skirt of your simple dress. Your heart was pounding harder and harder and your anxiety didn't lessen when you saw one of the doors to the Queen's chambers in Dragonstone. Giving a nod of complicity to the royal guard, you opened the heavy door and looked around restlessly, looking for any sign of silver hair, but in vain, the place was empty.

gaalee kissing !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

for @morarenga (one of my fav gaalee artists)

hope you like <3

my beautiful warrior