Stonerjackets

(Yellowjackets pre-crash stoner headcanons)

Shauna Shipman x Reader (gender-neutral) high school slowburn, possessive!shauna, teen angst Canon-typical emotional repression, possessive behavior (non-toxic), pre-crash timeline, slow-burn pining, Jackie Taylor’s emotional support capitalism ~2.3k | ---

The summer before junior year smells like chlorine and cut grass. Jackie’s backyard is the center of the universe—three lawn chairs in a crooked triangle, a cooler of stolen beer, and the three of you pretending the future isn’t breathing down your necks. Jackie’s recounting her latest conquest (some lifeguard named Kyle who “totally gets her vision board”) while you balance a popsicle on your tongue, laughing so hard cherry juice drips down your wrist.

Shauna watches the drop slide over your pulse point and feels something sharp hook behind her ribs. Not jealousy—Jackie flirts with disaster the way other people breathe—but a quieter, meaner thing. Mine to guard. She tears her gaze away, focuses on the way the sun bleeds through the maple leaves instead. You don’t notice. You never do. ---

Senior year begins with the ritual sacrifice of summer: 6 a.m. conditioning, Coach Martinez screaming about footwork, the metallic taste of blood when you push too hard. After practice, the three of you collapse on the bleachers like fallen soldiers. Jackie’s already scrolling through college mail, her Princeton legacy packet open like a coronation invite. You’re sketching on Shauna’s calf with a ballpoint pen—little doodles of dragons curled around soccer balls, wings made of cleats.

“Stop vandalizing me,” Shauna mutters, but she doesn’t move.

“It’s not vandalism, it’s branding.” You cap the pen with your teeth. “You’re officially Team Dragon now. Hoard and everything.”

Jackie snorts. “Shauna’s hoard is just her color-coded notes and that ratty journal she thinks we don’t know about.”

Shauna’s ears burn. “Shut up, Jax.”

You lean closer, inspecting your work. “Nah. Dragons keep treasure. Gold, jewels…” You tap the dragon’s tiny claw, right over the vein in her ankle. “Best friends.”

Shauna’s throat locks. She wants to say you’re the only thing in the vault, but Jackie’s already launching into a rant about early decision deadlines, and the moment slips through her fingers like loose change. ---

The possessiveness arrives in increments, the way frost creeps across a window.

It’s Tyler from AP Chem offering to carry your books after the pep rally, and Shauna’s there before you can answer, slinging your backpack over her own shoulder with a flat, “I got it.” It’s the way she positions herself between you and the junior varsity boys at the homecoming bonfire, her shoulder brushing yours like a silent claim. It’s the night Jackie tries to drag you to Jeff’s lake house rager and Shauna fakes a migraine so convincingly you cancel without hesitation, curling up on her bedroom floor with The Craft and a pint of mint chip instead.

“You’re my favorite person to be miserable with,” you tell her, mouth sticky with ice cream. “Jackie would’ve made me shotgun a White Claw.”

Shauna hums, cataloging the coconut scent of your shampoo, the way your pinky keeps brushing hers on the carpet. She doesn’t sleep. She counts the rise and fall of your breathing like a prayer. ---

October brings college essays and the slow hemorrhage of certainty.

Jackie’s set on Princeton—legacy, network, the whole gilded path. You’re waffling between Rutgers and Brown, close enough to visit but far enough to fracture. Shauna hasn’t applied anywhere. She keeps rewriting her personal statement, deleting every line that doesn’t orbit the truth: I want to stay where you are. I want to keep you.

One night at the diner, Jackie’s waving her early acceptance letter like a victory flag. “We’re talking Ivy, babe. Matching bumper stickers, coordinated dorms—”

You laugh, but it’s thin. “I haven’t even finished my supplementals.”

Shauna’s fork stills. “You’ll get in wherever you want.”

You look at her, surprised. “You think?”

“I know.” The certainty makes Jackie raise an eyebrow, but you just smile like Shauna’s the only fixed point in a spinning world.

Later, in the parking lot, Jackie’s distracted by Jeff’s Camaro idling at the curb. You linger by Shauna’s Jeep, kicking gravel.

“Hey,” you say. “If I go to Brown… you’ll visit, right?”

Shauna’s heart is a trapped animal. “Try and stop me.”

You grin, bump her shoulder. “Good. Can’t survive without my dragon.”

She wants to ask what happens if Jackie wants you at Princeton. Wants to ask if you’d choose her. Instead, she opens the passenger door, and you slide in without noticing how her hand lingers on the small of your back. ---

The winter formal is a glittering wound.

Jackie’s date is some lacrosse guy from Westfield—tall, harmless, forgettable. You don’t have a date, but you’re wearing this midnight velvet dress that makes every head turn when you walk in. Shauna’s in the corner with a cup of spiked punch she hasn’t touched, watching you spin under the disco ball with Jackie like you’re the only two people in the room.

Then Tyler cuts in.

Shauna’s across the gym before her brain catches up. “She’s with us,” she says, voice flat. Tyler backs off, hands raised. Jackie’s laughing, but you look confused.

“Shauna, what—”

“Dance with me.” Not a question.

You let her pull you close. The song’s slow, something by The Cranberries that aches in the chest. Shauna’s hands settle at your waist like they were carved for it. You rest your head on her shoulder, and for one dizzy minute, she lets herself pretend.

“You okay?” you murmur.

“No,” she says. “I hate this.”

“The dance?”

“Watching people touch you.”

You pull back, searching her face. “Shauna?”

She can’t do it here, under cheap lights with Jackie watching. So she tightens her grip and says, “You’re my best friend.”

You soften. “You’re mine too. Always.”

It’s not enough, but it’s all she has. ---

The real confession happens in February, in the back of Shauna’s Jeep during a snowstorm.

You’d been at the library for hours, drowning in scholarship essays. Jackie bailed early for some party, leaving you and Shauna to brave the weather. The roads turn treacherous; Shauna pulls over on a backroad, hazards blinking like a heartbeat.

“Great,” you groan, fogging the window with your breath. “We’re gonna die out here.”

“We’re not dying.” Shauna’s calm, but her knuckles are white. “Just waiting it out.”

Silence stretches. You’re drawing on the window again—dragons, hearts, little stick-figure versions of the three of you. Shauna watches the snow pile up and thinks about how easy it would be to drive you both somewhere no one could find you. Somewhere she could keep you safe. Keep you.

“Hey,” you say suddenly. “Remember when we were kids and you used to hide my toys so I’d play with you instead?”

Shauna huffs a laugh. “You were obsessed with that Barbie jeep. I wanted the Legos.”

“You were so mad when I wouldn’t share.” You turn to her, eyes bright in the dim light. “You haven’t changed much.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You still hoard me.” You say it lightly, teasing, but Shauna flinches. “I don’t mind,” you add quickly. “I like being your treasure.”

The words crack something open in her chest. “You don’t get it,” she says, voice rough. “It’s not a game. I need you. More than Jackie, more than soccer, more than—” She stops, breathing hard. “I’m in love with you. And it’s killing me.”

The silence is deafening.

You stare at her, mouth parted. Snow taps the windshield like static. Shauna waits for you to laugh, to call her dramatic, to ruin everything.

Instead, you reach over and lace your fingers with hers. “Shauna.”

“I know you don’t—”

“Shut up.” You squeeze her hand. “I’m oblivious, not blind. I just… didn’t think you’d ever—” You laugh, shaky. “I thought you were waiting for me to catch up.”

Shauna’s brain short-circuits. “Catch up?”

“I’ve been in love with you since the prom dress,” you admit. “I just didn’t know what to do with it. You’re Shauna. You don’t— You’re not supposed to want—”

“I want,” Shauna says fiercely. “I’ve wanted for years. I just didn’t think you’d ever look at me like I’m more than the third wheel.”

You lean across the console, careful, like she’s made of glass. Your forehead rests against hers. “You’ve never been the third wheel. You’re the whole damn axle.”

The kiss is clumsy—teeth clacking, noses bumping, breath fogging the air between you—but it’s the first honest thing Shauna’s tasted in years. When you pull back, your thumb brushes her cheekbone.

“Still hoarding me?” you whisper.

“Always,” she says, and means it like a vow.

Tuplar crew x gn!reader

Synopsis: how the reader and the crew confess'

CW: Fluff, pet names, minor injury, pining, mild swearing, physical affection, implied age gap (for Swansea), Jimugly, workplace romance? power dynamic a little. Overall, SFW and not proofread. Enjoyyy!! - noodle

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Daisuke!

you-

----- ✩‧₊˚

You've been waiting a couple of months to tell him you liked him, and every time he was near, your heart would race. He was so cute, how could it not?

even if he cracked jokes at the wrong time, or embarrassed himself by doing something he thought he could, and miserably failing.

You hoped he wouldn't notice when your face flushed top to bottom or when you would stare too long. He was still the one you had eyes for.

So you prepared, taking deep breaths. Today was the day, the day you would cry, whether that was out of sadness or pure joy. Daisuke was currently fixing something, you're not sure what your not the hunky mechanic that held a wrench in his hand and was under a machine looking thing.

He pulled out from under it with a groan, and some sort of dirt littered his bright pink hibiscus jacket he wore over the pony express uniform.

Once he noticed you, standing over him, he smiled and spoke, "Oh.. hey!"

He stood up and brushed himself off, bracelets jingling with every move

"How ya doing..?" he hummed, setting the wrench down on top of the machine he was just working on.

"im, doing alright..." you tried to smile and not stutter from the overwhelming nervousness that ran through your body.

"That's good, I-"

You interrupted him

"I wanna talk about something... well, ask.. talk.. You know..." you murmured

His eyebrows rose as he crossed his arms, clearing his throat.

"I-uh yeah, shoot..." he mumbled back, matching your tone.

"So... Daisuke," you start, eyes darting to the floor, not daring to look at him,

"We're both single..." you stutter out

"Mhm..." he responds

"We're a good match..."

"Mhmm...?"

You take a deep breath, clutching the ends of your sleeves, and squeezing your eyes shut, expecting the worst news you could ever imagine.

"I, uhm... like you, r-romantically..." You take a second before finally looking up at him when you hear him let out a small chuckle

"You do now..?" he giggled, coming down to hug you "Pretty rad.." he hummed, taking a deep breath

"Huh?" you squeaked when he made contact with you

Pulling away, he flashes you a toothy smile

"I think it's pretty obvious I like you too..." he sighs, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your forehead, he’s got you in the bag, he isn’t letting go now.

"Oh..." you let out a sigh of relief as you hug him back tightly, and your face flushes from such a direct action.

----- ✩‧₊˚

him-

----- ✩‧₊˚

He loved you, the way you walked, the way you talked, down to what you wore and what games you liked to play, how cute you were when you were flustered and how happy you got over little things

he always would show off for you, making a fool of himself or purposely finding ways to get your attention

he’d always stick by you, hoping you would notice just how much he cared for you, doing little things like moving stuff out of your way before you walked, or making sure there was always enough food for you

Sometimes skipping out of work to visit what you were doing, knowing full well how much trouble he would be in with Swansea.

it didn’t matter as long as it was you he was bailing for.

He didn't know how he was going to tell you, if he ever did. It was getting a little stressful. At some point, he started dropping hints or generally being more openly affectionate to you.

“Uhuh… so you broke the bat…?” You giggled

It wasn't planned, it just happened

“Yeah! I did!” He chuckled, flashing you a toothy smile, “I swear I would have won if it didn't snap in half…!” He exclaimed,

"I bet you would have," you chuckle

"I like you," he says, voice flattened.

He swears to himself that it was a slip of the tongue.

"What... did you say?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed upwards

He sighs, starting to fiddle with his rings that adorn his finger.

"I said, I like you," he mumbled, eyes matching yours, trying to gauge your reaction; any little twitch of your face made his heart jump.

"Oh well, I, like you too...!" you smile a little flustered

It was a very good slip of the tongue.

----- ✩‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Anya

you-

----- ✩‧₊˚

Anya, the ship, gorgeous, long-haired beauty-nurse, the one who made your heart flutter every time you two got too close or when you two were alone.

You endlessly pinned against her, never knowing if she felt the same.

You knew you were going to ask, ask how she felt, pop up the question, but how? You had no idea. You've tried, but nothing worked!

"Anya-dear you got anyone waiting at home for you..?" you asked once

"Anyone at home?" she repeated. "Other than a couple of plants that are probably dead by now... no." She smiled, resuming what she was doing before

She answered you, but did you get closure? no.

Every time you had free time, you would go visit her in Med, chatting, and falling into a deeper pit of endless crushing.

You cut yourself, an accident, of course, you weren't complaining. You're excited to see Anya,

The door slides open as you whine, "Anya...!" you huff

"Need'a Band-Aid!" you sighed, coming up to her

"Oh!" she smiled, "Yeah, let me get you one..." she hummed, putting her clipboard down to open up a drawer

"How did you get hurt?" she asked, pulling out a bottle and a roll of bandage

You sit down on one of the stools as she comes over and does the same, her stool making a scratchy sound as she adjusts to be closer to you,

"Show me," she asks, pouring whatever liquid was in the bottle onto a rag.

You lift up your arm, wincing slightly as she dabs the rag on your skin

"Anya?" you hum, staring at her hands working to clean your wound

"Yeah?"

"your really important to me, you know that?" you smile

She clicks her tongue, "Why so sentimental all of a sudden..."

"Anya, how would you feel if I asked you out?" you chuckle, changing your view from your arm to her starstruck face

"Oh!" she hums, her eyes widened, "I.. mean I.." she clears her throat, "I guess I would gracefully accept."

"Will you go out with me then?" you grin, happy you secured the bag

She wraps your arm in the bandage and lets you go

"Yeah... I'll go out with you, doofus.." she giggled.

------ ✩‧₊˚

her-

------ ✩‧₊˚

She tried to keep her infatuation private and out of her professional life, but how could she? When you looked at her with such eyes, ones that filled the gaps that others had made, she couldn't help but crush over you like a schoolgirl.

She adored you, constantly smiling when she was around you, laughing more, and asking you to play board games with her.

You made her feel safe,

You were chatting with her and Daisuke, talking over a gameboard you all had abandoned a while ago, lost in thought centuries ago.

"Wait, wait," Daisuke giggled, waving his hand repeatedly

"I'm gonna go grab a snack, alright?" he smiled, sitting up and walking off

You and Anya sat in silence, she toyed with the ends of her sweater cuffs that peeked out from her jean esc. jacket

She had pondered about telling you how she felt, waiting for the right moment, but she brushed it off, she grimaced about how awkward it would be if she were rejected by you.

"Hey..." she spoke up, breaking the silence

"Oh, yeah?" you look up at her, smiling.

"So... I need to tell you something, but I don't want it to affect our friendship."

"Oh, yeah, no, it's alright, I'm listening..." you hum, leaning in to give her all your attention

"So..." she takes a deep breath and makes eye contact with you,

"I'm like, just a little interested in you." She spoke, trying to keep a straight face and fixing her posture

"Like..." you mumble, trying to make sense of the situation

"like...? I'm interested in you...?"

"Romantically?"

"yeah..."

Your breath hitches. "Well, I'm interested in you too..." you hum, trying not to crack a smile.

"heyy im back!" Daisuke chuckles, plopping down beside anya again with a bag of chips

Both of you attempt to hold back a laugh

"What's... what's so funny?" Daisuke frowns, starting to open the crinkly bag.

----- ✩‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Curly

you-

----- ✩‧₊˚

Your dear captain got you all in a twist. He takes such good care of everyone on the ship, not to mention he's a hot, muscular guy.

As soon as you two are done talking, you're giggling or sighing in contentment. But he was your captain, it would be the worst idea to confess to him, two co-workers dating? Especially the captain? But that stupid chizled good-looking face and his cutie-pie personality, he was irresistible! You couldn't help but tell him how much you adored him.

"Captain!" you sang through the halls of the Tuplar, echoing until you reached his quarters

"Hello!" you smiled,

"Oh hey-" he spoke, looking up at you as you entered his room.

"So, Captain," you smiled, coming in to sit next to him, "how do you feel about us?" you asked, getting straight to the point

"Huh?" he asked, startled by how nonchalant you were about something that was hard for most.

"You heard me, would you date me?" you pryed, keeping your eyes staring into his soul. Was it a power move? A little.

He cleared his throat and spoke, "Well, on the job it would be unprofessional... and don't get me wrong, you're a wonderful person-"

"yes or no?"

"Yeah..." he admitted

It's a quick and easy thing, getting right to the point.

----- ✩‧₊˚

Him-

----- ✩‧₊˚

You, you drove him crazy, he was supposed to be the captain, a role model for the crew, brave and chivalrous, so how? How has he been reduced to a little guy who has his words caught in his throat every time you call out his name?

It's not a confession like the rest, he’s too awkward for that, instead he does it his own way, the one where he doesn't need to say any emotion-filled words

He starts out slow, hanging around you more,

He talks to you more, getting used to getting butterflies when you talk to him, and he shows more interest in everything you say.

Eventually, he gets closer to you, letting you brush against him without awkwardly pulling away (or purposefully doing it to you), laughing out loud at your bad jokes, or getting sentimental with you from time to time, opening up.

He crosses the line at one point, random hugs, intimacy behind closed doors, and teasing you.

Then he goes full-time. public displays of affection, hugging from behind, little kisses to your cheek, overall, invading your personal space in general. You two bicker like an old couple and then share clothes.

"So," Daisuke speaks up while you and Curly are sitting awfully close together

"Are ya two dating? or not so skillfully dancing around each other, hoping the other one doesn't notice the endless pinning you both are doing-"

"Daisuke, let's not pry into others' personal lives," Swansea interrupts him before he can sprout any more nonsense-nonsense, not only did he know, was completely correct.

He waited a minute for you to respond, and when you were quieter than a mouse, he spoke up, putting his hand on your thigh

"I'd say we are..." he hummed, turning to you and raising an eyebrow

"Oh.." you murmur, "we are..."

And that's what confirms it, he's even more affectionate to you now that he 100% knows you two are together, deep down, he knew, it was quite obvious. Inside, he's static. It worked; he knows he's lucky to have such a good partner.

----- ✩‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Jimbalababeha-freak

you-

----- ✩‧₊˚

(This is me passing time, I really have no idea how I'm supposed to glorify him, frankly, I'd rather not. I'm sorry if you wanted a cute little Jimmy hehe fic. I really am sorry, but I cannot in my right mind write some 'he was so amazing!' I know he's an exceptionally well-crafted character, but he isn't morally good. Does that make sense? I don't wanna glorify someone who has done the things he has... sorry if this is a little random, this is a cute fic about confessing. i hope you understand!)

Jimmy, he might be stone cold, gross-looking, and mean, but he's your cold, gross-looking, mean, dusty crusty ass ugly fugly, no good guy. You dance around him, trying to get close to him. One day, you had had enough, he ignores you whenever you try to do what you do.

"Jimmy!" you grumble, marching into the living area,

"What?" he groans

"Do you like me or not?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you like me or not?!"

"No."

And that's that.

----- ✩‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Swansea

You-

----- ✩‧₊˚

(I tried)

Swansea, your sweet head mechanic of the ship. Caught your attention, they way he treats his work is exceptional, so much time and care goes into it, you think he’s cute, maybe even hot the way he pretends not to care, even if he has alot of feelings inside,

you were nervous, scared, terrified to tell him, what was he going to think? Was he gonna reject you, belittle you for thinking you had a chance?

you snuck up behind him, “boo!”

“huh?” He turned around stopping in his tracks, very much not scared

“oh i uh… hi…!” You smile awkwardly, clearing your throat and starting to walk with him, walk and talk I guess

“so how have you been…?” You hum,

“fine… damn Daisuke keeps messing up, he's tiring…” he says, his voice gruff and gravely

“so… Swansea…” you say completely ignoring what he said before

“i like you.”

“cool.” He responds starting to talk about his work again

“We were working and i told him to-“

“thats it?” You interrupt him “i just told you something that could change the way we see each other and thats what you have to say?”

“yeah. Im too old to deal with all of that emotional crap, it’s cool, i accept. I enjoy your company too and I’m willing to give it a shot, but as soon as something goes wrong I'm ditching it. I have alot on my plate already…”

its not much, not much at all, but its enough for now.

----- ✩‧₊˚

Him-

----- ✩‧₊˚

A crush is really only a problem for him, he’s older, he’s gone through it all, he’d rather skip all the dancing and prancing around each other, its alot he’s straight forward with it, its not like he has a chance anyways, as stated-he's old, not much to offer except some crazy story on how he got to school when he was small. He enjoys your company, the vibe you bring, and how you two relate, he enjoys you

“hey…” he spoke up when you two were alone

“How do you feel about dating someone like me?” he hummed, continuing to do what he was doing with his hands, tinkering with something

"Excuse me?" you ask practiclly whipping your head to look at him

"Just answer the question," he mumbles

"Guess I'd be open to it... Do you... want to date?" you ask quite flabbergasted,

"Guess I do," he responds

"Oh..." you swallow "so... are we..?"

"Sure, don't make a big deal of it," he remarks

------------------------------

Trans!Lottie

Charlie Matthews

Pre-crash/no crash

Depositors in the new Industrial National Bank, June 27, 1929.

Summary: Van Palmer longs for love in more ways than one. (A look into Van's relationship with love pre-Taivan and pre-crash)

A/N: I decided to say fuck it and post this kinda as a warm up since I haven't written anything in a while and I'm more than likely very rusty. Not sure I'm gonna stick with this title. I can't decide if i like her. also!! I'm working on a Taivan 5 +1 things fic so that should be out soon. As usual, feedback is always appreciated!

Ever since she was a kid, Van was always on the outside of love. It started with her mother who loved alcohol and men she barely knew more than her own daughter. Van longed for the kind of motherly love the kids at school got. They had moms who wrote notes reminding them that they were loved and showed up to class parties and school performances. Why couldn’t she have that? She thought that it had something to do with her, that maybe she was the problem and even though she knows better now, some small part of her still thinks that’s true.