keepingitformyself

[keepingitformyself]

but i am flesh and blood (and this flesh has needs) ii

synopsis: even with the snow finally melted you find yourself questioning whether it’s even possible to protect the girl you love from something that doesn’t bleed. or is she too far gone to come back?

pairings: lottie matthews x reader

genre: angst, violent themes, fluff.

warnings: blood, typical yellowjackets violence.

word count: 4.3k

read the first part here

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

three months before the spring.

it doesn't feel as cold as it used to. but that doesn’t help much when you’ve spent the past few weeks crammed in some splintering wooden hut with everyone else. it doesn’t ease the weight of losing the cabin that still burns despite its ultimate collapse weeks ago.

the snow still bites at your skin when the wind gets harsher. your ribs still ache with the hunger you’ve grown accustomed to. but lottie still holds you close despite it all. she still whispers silent prayers with her arms wrapped around you. she lets you cry into the curve of her neck when you need to. she says, ‘i love you’ like it’s the only truth she’s never cracked. she looks at you like you’re the one thing that’s always felt real.

and you kiss her when you need to remember that she’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt for you out here.

you start to have dreams shortly after the cabin burns down. sometimes they’re pleasant. dreams of you living another life. a life where you still play soccer, where lottie is there loving you, like nothing bad has ever touched you both. like, there wasn’t some strange and unfortunate string of fate that brought you together.

other times, the dreams are cruel, scarier. the cabin is there, whole again, but nothing about it feels right. people who shouldn’t be there are alive. greying, blue corpses that talk. you smell the smoke, but there’s no fire. and you feel the heat despite feeling the harsh wind of the cold blowing through the hut.

when the flames finally do come, you shoot awake from your sleep. your breathing is laboured, and tears stain your cheeks. lottie is already there to hold your hand. like it’s some twisted routine you’ve both come up with. you never ask, she doesn’t either. she’s just always there, like maybe she was waiting for you to come back.

you think maybe she was. maybe she also has the same dreams.

one night, when the dreams seem more brutal, lottie is there again to hold you close. you wake in quiet sobs enough to wake the others up. lottie cradles you, holds you close to her chest, and you let the sound of her breathing ground you as you sob into her collarbone.

“you’re safe,” she repeats into your hair. you believe it. because god has never answered your prayers the way she did.

the others watch with worried expressions. natalie looks at you like she’s uncertain of something. tai looks like she wants to reach for you as well, but never does, once catching lottie’s gaze. and shauna doesn’t look at all.

later that day, when you’re supposed to be sourcing wood to build with, you catch lottie again. she’s crouched by a tree, looking distantly at it as if it were speaking to her. you don't announce yourself; instead, she’s already meeting your gaze before you call for her.

“lottie,” you say, but it sounds like a plea. you drop down beside her, her hands reaching for your face.

“what is it?” she asks, but it sounds like she’s barely even here. and you don’t notice how tears start streaming down your face until she’s trying to wipe them off with her thumbs.

“what’s wrong?” she asks again, this time more present. you feel the warmth of her breath hitting your face.

you shake your head, trying to move her hands off you. but she holds on tighter.

“no,” you manage to say.

“what?” she searches your face.

“you have to promise me something,” you say once finally clutching her hands in yours.

lottie looks at you, searching out of confusion, or nervousness, or both.

“look at me,” you say low, but pointedly. “please, look at me.”

“i’m here,” she whispers, “i’m looking.”

you move one of her hands to press against your chest, over your heart.

“do you feel this? the way it beats?”

she nods her head. eyebrows furrowed, “i feel it. i feel you.”

“it means i believe in you,” you whisper, “it means i love you.”

a beat.

“i need you to believe in us, too.”

there’s an agonizingly long pause in between. lottie stays still. like, she won’t answer. like, she can't. but you see the tremble in her lips, the wetness of her eyes starting to show. she gulps down the knot in her throat because, sometimes, she feels like she doesn’t know how to love you without letting this place eat her whole.

lottie knows exactly what you’re asking. understands exactly why you’re asking it. but, nevertheless, she knows. it’s the only thing she feels she’s ever known. the kind of thing that feels like it’s never slipped away. not like the trees she prays to. not like the voices that won’t speak to her.

because in the space between, out of all the fucked up madness that has happened, you’re still the only thing that feels tangible.

the only thing lottie can swear she will always believe in.

lottie releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding, a shudder leaving her mouth as she chokes out a sob.

“i do,” she nods. “i swear– i promise,” she chokes back a sob.

she lunges forward, hands immediately finding their place on your face as she presses against your lips. she tastes your tears, salty and warm. she doesn’t even try to wipe them away. instead, she drinks them up like they’re the only thing close to being ordained.

and in that, lottie promises to herself, reminds herself, that she’d choose better. because nothing good has ever lasted long in the wilderness. but maybe you can.

——

you made it to the spring, and for the first time in ages, you were no longer desperate or clinging to some hope that you’d live to see another day. you weren’t actively starving, and you’ve slowly found joy in the new way of things.

and, lottie, well, lottie was still lottie. even after surrendering the crown to natalie, after she survived the hunt, and after claiming the wilderness had chosen her. even after admitting she could no longer hear it. but even then, lottie still believed. she still believed there was a reason everyone was still here. and she still came back from her little solo walks with a fresh wound on her palm. an offering, she’d call it.

you’d just sigh and pull her down to the makeshift bed of your shared hut. you’d wash her palm with the lake water and wrap it in old scraps of cloth. muttering to her that if she was gonna offer something, she could at least try giving it something more convenient.

“could you try offering it a squirrel head or something next time?” you’d joke as you wrapped the fresh wound. lottie didn’t reply, not even a wince when you tightened the cloth around her hand.

“you should come with me,” she replied instead. you looked up at her expectantly. you hadn’t tried much to feel what lottie felt in the last months. but she still wanted you to believe, even if she couldn’t hear it as clearly as before. she tried with the others. she tried to keep them believing, and she tried with you. but people could only humor her for so long.

you hesitated for a moment. months ago, you would have followed her wordlessly. you would have reached for her. you would have let her pull you under until the cold didn’t bite at your skin anymore.

now, you still reached for her, but not for the same reasons. there was no hunger, no desperate need to cling to something that felt greater than you did. you changed; you had to. because you loved lottie, you loved her, and you knew that if you ended up like her, it’d end up destroying you both. you needed to be sane so that you could be there for when she needed to come back.

maybe you didn’t believe in the wilderness anymore. but you believed in her.

you smiled at lottie, holding her wounded hand in yours and bringing it to your lips. “yeah.” you nodded, agreeing with her. “i’ll go with you next time.” lottie smiled at that. you would go. even if you didn’t want to. even if it’s the last thing you’d want to do. you’d do it for her. you’d do it to keep her happy.

the days pass on as they always have. you have your weekly meetings with natalie as an advisor, along with taissa, gen, and van. you play ‘capture the bone’ along with the girls, and lottie always kisses you when you arrive back, whether in defeat or victory. and mari and shauna still bicker over their petty girl drama, and you always are thankful for having that entertainment around.

until mari goes missing.

it’s days of scavenging the surrounding woods. there isn’t any luck at all. even if you’ve tried every single trail you’ve covered in your months here. and just as you’re discussing with taissa and natalie what the next step should be. just as you’re about to decide that pronouncing mari dead as a possibility, she comes stumbling into the village, knee wrapped in a cloth as she limps across the yard.

the girls all rush towards her. helping her settle down, checking her for any injury besides her knee. you feel yourself let out the biggest sigh of relief that you didn’t have to lose someone else. at least not today.

but it all feels full circle once mari mentions being held captive by coach ben. a name you didn’t think you’d ever hear again. a man natalie had tried to convince everyone was dead. he should’ve been dead. but he isn’t. he’s holed up in some cave drinking hot chocolate.

everyone jumps at the idea of going off to find him once shauna mentions it.

“he tried to burn us alive.” you watch in shock as she spits the words out. natalie is the only one who protests against it before shauna storms off, inviting anyone to go with her in capturing him.

lottie doesn’t seem to be ecstatic about the whole ordeal. violence is usually the last thing she wants to partake in. she just nods encouragingly, understanding if it’s something that needs to be done.

you silently pack for the trip that evening before going off with the group to find him. a small part of you is hoping you won't have to bring ben back and make him face the wrath of a bunch of angry teenage girls.

“you’re scared,” lottie says from the entrance of the hut. you look up at her towering figure and huff out a laugh before turning back to what you were doing. “i’m not scared.” you don't know why you lie.

“don't lie,” she says softly, as she kneels beside you. “you don’t have to be scared,” she says it like it’s the simplest thing ever. like, this isn't ben you’re talking about. a man who you once trusted, a man you looked to for guidance. this was coach ben. coach ben, who let you sit out on practices when he saw you were too lost in your own head. he was the last piece of humanity left. the only reminder of wiskayok that wasn’t so fractured by what has become of all of you.

and you’re not sure what scares you more. the fact that he was still alive or that his capture may inevitably lead to his death.

“i just…i don’t think we should do this,” you confess. lottie all but stares at you. patient, waiting, listening, inviting you to say what you need to. like she always has.

“i mean he– he didn’t kill mari,” you start. “he let her go. he let her come back.” there’s more conviction to your words as you regain your confidence. “if he was so dangerous, wouldn’t he have left her to die?” you finish.

lottie hums, not in agreement or dismissal. she grabs your hand in hers and runs her fingers over the insides of your wrist. in some way grounding you. “he still left us.” she replies.

and that’s what it takes for you to understand fully. maybe it didn’t matter that he might’ve started the fire at the cabin, that he let mari go. maybe this was about the fact that he chose to abandon you all in search of his solitude. that he would have rather suffered alone than with all of you.

he could have chosen to stay. he could've chosen to believe. he could have survived with all of you. but he didn’t. maybe that’s why everyone was so angry. because he gave up on them.

lottie watches as the realization settles on your face. the way your mouth parts, the way you feel your throat tighten.

“don't be scared.” she says again, pulling your hand in to kiss your wrist. “we’re here. we’re here together.” you close your eyes as her words settle within you. when you open them again moments later, all you feel is that pull towards her. the one that’s always been there. only this time, it doesn’t feel like you need it to survive. you feel her. and you love her.

you love her more than the fear of what comes next.

she holds your hand in yours for a moment longer. then, with a final squeeze of her hand, you rise to your feet and sling your pack over your shoulder, ready to head off.

“i’ll be back,” you murmur, brushing a kiss against the arch of her brow before finding her lips.

"i know," she whispers, smiling.

you're gone until morning light. walking behind ben and natalie, you catch her gaze just before entering camp, a silent plea, a reminder to have her back for what comes next.

it all happens fast. shauna storms toward natalie the moment they set foot in camp, eyes blazing with the need for justice now that coach ben is in their grasp. but natalie is ready for her. she won’t let this end in blind violence.

“there has to be a trial,” she says, voice steady.

the anger in shauna’s face all but rises. her fists clenched at her sides. “after everything he’s done, you want this to be about fairness?” her voice accusatory, annoyed. melissa, from behind her speaks up in her defense, “he literally tried to burn our fucking home down!”

but you know what you’ve all become out here just as much as natalie does. what you’re trying your best not to continue to be. everything can’t be done in rage.

you step closer behind natalie, you let her feel you there. present. solid. understanding that you know she’s trying her best to do the right thing. even though she’s terrified. even if she doesn’t know what to name it.

a line has to be drawn, right? something no one should dare cross. this is that. like the thing lottie has always explained to you. some things are left out of your hands. some things happen because we aren’t meant to decide them.

and then, like you summoned her with a thought, lottie steps forward. “natalie is right. life and death has always been for it to decide.”

you see how her eyes find you as she says it, not seeking agreement but offering a reminder. of what you’ve once believed. of what she still believes.

you don’t always know what lottie hears anymore. she’s quieter than she used to be, her certainty less loud, but it’s still there, alive in the way she looks at the world and at you.

there’s a long silence. coach ben shifts between his feet.

“okay,” mari speaks up, warily. “how does a trial even look like out here?”

you glance back at lottie. she doesn’t say anything. she doesn't need to. this part is yours. this is up to the rest of you.

natalie shares a look between you and lottie before she steps forward. “we gather everyone. lay out what we know, and take a vote. it isn’t perfect…but it’s something.”

you hear shauna’s huff at her words. her nose flares in frustration, and you know she has something to say but decides against it. instead, she storms off into her hut, melissa trailing behind her.

natalie glances to you at her side, another silent plead. an agreement. you give her a nod. you have her back, no matter what. people disperse into their groups, you hear the mutterings, the doubts. some already taking sides. you don’t care.

you’re just glad there’s still some order to things around here.

you close your eyes for a moment and inhale. you don’t have to open your eyes to know that lottie has appeared next to you. her hand brushes yours, and it feels like coming down to earth. you exhale. when you open them again, you find her looking right at you. it’s there. a knowing. a stillness. how she knows exactly when you need her. you cling to that.

everyone gathers in the center of the village not long after. you sit quietly beside misty and ben, your knee bouncing, heart lodged somewhere between your chest and throat. you scan the faces around the table, searching for something. certainty, doubt, anything human.

your eyes catch on lottie when you glance behind you.

she’s across from you, expression unreadable as she shuffles the deck of cards with steady hands. when your eyes meet, she doesn’t say a word. but she doesn’t have to. you know her. and you know what silence like that means.

when van steps forward and announces natalie as the judge, your stomach twists. the weight of it hits you all at once. how real this is. how far you've come. how far you've fallen.

you turn to misty, voice low but certain. “misty.” she looks at you, wide-eyed.

“give it everything you’ve got.”

the whole trial is anything but easy. it’s stressful, terrifying, and relentless. mari shares her side. then shauna. you're almost ready to object when lottie steps up, until you realize where misty is steering the narrative. then natalie takes the stand, and it’s brutal watching her get shut down again and again once everyone learns she knew ben was alive. you want to speak up, to defend her, but she shoots you a look that says, not now. don’t risk it.

so you bite your tongue, even though it burns.

when ben takes the stand, you can barely look at him. he’s a shadow of the man you remember, broken and hollowed out by everything he’s endured.

he doesn’t even try to defend himself anymore, not really, but there’s still this heartbreaking honesty in the way he answers. like he knows it won’t save him, but he has to speak anyway. and then he starts talking about his life. all the things he hated, all the ways he felt stuck, but says it was all bearable because he got to coach you. the team. because he saw something in everyone that no one else ever bothered to look for.

you feel your throat close up, eyes burning. there’s no way, there’s just no way everyone in this room still wants to kill him. how can they? how can you? how can you all be about to vote him guilty? he’s not a monster. he’s not the villain of this story. he’s just a man who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. and now he’s going to die for it.

when it comes to voting, you have hope. it’s all you have for this. the one thing you’ve always held onto since being here. lottie looks teary-eyed, so does tai, and travis; they all do. but still, a part of you knows a few tears aren’t enough to save a man from death.

natalie glances at you as she approaches the table, jaw tight, like she doesn’t know whether to be hopeful or nervous.

“okay,” she looks around scanning everyone's faces. “we vote guilty or innocent with the raise of hands.” she gulps. “we vote until we get two-thirds.”

the first round. guilty, guilty, innocent, guilty, innocent, innocent, guilty, innocent, innocent, innocent. but it isn’t two-thirds.

“that’s not two-thirds,” natalie calls as she scans everyone's hands. “we have to vote again… until people change their vote.”

it’s silent. then again. people raise their hands. fall again. then raise. again. again. again.

it’s brutal, silent, and feels like crushing something soft. every. single. time. like you’re all operating some mechanical machine meant to press things closed until there’s no air left. you keep your hand steady. you never change your mind. but you feel it. you feel the pressure winning.

and then shauna disrupts. angry, upset, and nothing of what she says, nothing she does, is supposed to be allowed. natalie tries to disrupt her. to tell her this isn’t right. that she isn’t allowed to intercept the vote in any way. of course, shauna doesn't listen. all she has to do is give natalie some look before she cowers back.

and all shauna has to do to manipulate everyone is appeal to their emotions. to remind them that ben still left them, and so he must've burned the cabin down. in that, she also manages to make everyone question natalie’s leadership.

this time, van, shauna, melissa, gen, travis, akilah, and lottie all vote guilty.

when it’s over, the two-thirds is met. ben is found guilty. the sentence comes next.

you block the rest out. numbing all of it, as if ignoring it might make it less real. but it’s real. it’s all very real. and someone is going to die because of it.

you don’t even look at lottie. not right away, at least. too upset to even look her in the eyes. but you do glance up eventually, and you see the look in her eyes. like she knows what she’s just done, like maybe she’s hopeful you’ll understand. like she didn’t just let the fucking trees decide for her.

and the worst part is she thinks she did the right thing.

even if it hurt you in the end.

you huffed, walking off before you could say something cruel. lottie doesn’t try to follow you.

you tried to cool off. you walked laps around the edge of camp, hands stuffed into your pockets. you try to make sense of everything that’s just happened, but it never becomes clearer to you. and you decided it isn’t something you wanted to try and understand, especially if it isn’t something that felt right.

when you return to camp, it’s already the evening. you miss dinner, but you don’t find yourself caring.

lottie is there when you enter your shared hut—quickly rising to her feet as soon as she sees you, like she’s ready for whatever you’re about to give her.

but you don’t. you don’t give her anything.

you clench your jaw and brush past her, ready to head off to bed in the cot you share with her. you go through your motions of getting ready for bed and when you’re done you lay facing the wall of the hut, avoiding looking at lottie at all. she decides she’d break the silence instead.

“i know you’re mad,” she starts, stepping closer to the cot's edge. “but, you have to understand that i chose what it made me feel.”

her words make something in you snap, like all the anger you’ve held onto all day has finally reached its limit. you turn to face her, she doesn’t cower back when she notices the obvious anger on your face.

“well, i am mad,” you say with a silent venom. “i’m fucking upset, lot.”

“i just wanted to–”

“no!” you hiss, rising from the cot to look her eye to eye. “i told you how i felt, and you took that and didn’t think about what it would feel like for me when you chose something i was obviously against.”

lottie blinks slowly at you. she gives you that small, unadulterated smile as if she understands that you may not see it her way. and if she’s offended by your words, she doesn’t show it.

“i know it may seem unfair, but sometimes it knows more than we do. sometimes, it’ll show us things to push us towards a certain direction–”

“weren’t you the one who said some things aren’t for us to decide?” you counter.

“they aren’t.” she says, steadily.

“then why?” you demand. “you saw how broken he was! he’s innocent. hell, you even cried during his testimony, lottie.”

“we all voted,” she steps closer, trying to reach for your hand. “we all felt something and chose.”

“no,” you shake your head, stepping back. you feel the lump in your throat tighten. “don’t do that. don’t hide behind it.”

she calls your name, as if hearing her say it may bring you back to her. as if maybe it’d get you to understand. “i didn’t want it to end this way.”

you try to swallow down the tears, try to force yourself not to just yell at her for what will happen. part of you understands this isn't her fault. that it isn’t anything she can help. still, you can’t help but want to blame someone for the way things are. if it’s even something that can be protected from the kind of thing that doesn’t bleed, but continues to demand sacrifice.

you whisper, broken but clear. “don’t you remember what you promised?”

you see the glass start to break. her mouth parts, eyes turn glassy. you hear her small exhale at your words.

“i don’t want to lose you.” she whispers.

“then don’t.”

[keepingitformyself]

sophie squared liking this

[keepingitformyself]

do ya’ll think travis ever had to wear crop tops n booty shorts when the lesbians took all his boy clothes from the community pile

if there weren’t already two pairs of khaki pants, they’d fight over the one like siblings

[keepingitformyself]

yas i posted

but i am flesh and blood (and this flesh has needs) ii

synopsis: even with the snow finally melted you find yourself questioning whether it’s even possible to protect the girl you love from something that doesn’t bleed. or is she too far gone to come back?

pairings: lottie matthews x reader

genre: angst, violent themes, fluff.

warnings: blood, typical yellowjackets violence.

word count: 4.3k

read the first part here

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

three months before the spring.

it doesn't feel as cold as it used to. but that doesn’t help much when you’ve spent the past few weeks crammed in some splintering wooden hut with everyone else. it doesn’t ease the weight of losing the cabin that still burns despite its ultimate collapse weeks ago.

the snow still bites at your skin when the wind gets harsher. your ribs still ache with the hunger you’ve grown accustomed to. but lottie still holds you close despite it all. she still whispers silent prayers with her arms wrapped around you. she lets you cry into the curve of her neck when you need to. she says, ‘i love you’ like it’s the only truth she’s never cracked. she looks at you like you’re the one thing that’s always felt real.

and you kiss her when you need to remember that she’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt for you out here.

you start to have dreams shortly after the cabin burns down. sometimes they’re pleasant. dreams of you living another life. a life where you still play soccer, where lottie is there loving you, like nothing bad has ever touched you both. like, there wasn’t some strange and unfortunate string of fate that brought you together.

other times, the dreams are cruel, scarier. the cabin is there, whole again, but nothing about it feels right. people who shouldn’t be there are alive. greying, blue corpses that talk. you smell the smoke, but there’s no fire. and you feel the heat despite feeling the harsh wind of the cold blowing through the hut.

when the flames finally do come, you shoot awake from your sleep. your breathing is laboured, and tears stain your cheeks. lottie is already there to hold your hand. like it’s some twisted routine you’ve both come up with. you never ask, she doesn’t either. she’s just always there, like maybe she was waiting for you to come back.

you think maybe she was. maybe she also has the same dreams.

one night, when the dreams seem more brutal, lottie is there again to hold you close. you wake in quiet sobs enough to wake the others up. lottie cradles you, holds you close to her chest, and you let the sound of her breathing ground you as you sob into her collarbone.

“you’re safe,” she repeats into your hair. you believe it. because god has never answered your prayers the way she did.

the others watch with worried expressions. natalie looks at you like she’s uncertain of something. tai looks like she wants to reach for you as well, but never does, once catching lottie’s gaze. and shauna doesn’t look at all.

later that day, when you’re supposed to be sourcing wood to build with, you catch lottie again. she’s crouched by a tree, looking distantly at it as if it were speaking to her. you don't announce yourself; instead, she’s already meeting your gaze before you call for her.

“lottie,” you say, but it sounds like a plea. you drop down beside her, her hands reaching for your face.

“what is it?” she asks, but it sounds like she’s barely even here. and you don’t notice how tears start streaming down your face until she’s trying to wipe them off with her thumbs.

“what’s wrong?” she asks again, this time more present. you feel the warmth of her breath hitting your face.

you shake your head, trying to move her hands off you. but she holds on tighter.

“no,” you manage to say.

“what?” she searches your face.

“you have to promise me something,” you say once finally clutching her hands in yours.

lottie looks at you, searching out of confusion, or nervousness, or both.

“look at me,” you say low, but pointedly. “please, look at me.”

“i’m here,” she whispers, “i’m looking.”

you move one of her hands to press against your chest, over your heart.

“do you feel this? the way it beats?”

she nods her head. eyebrows furrowed, “i feel it. i feel you.”

“it means i believe in you,” you whisper, “it means i love you.”

a beat.

“i need you to believe in us, too.”

there’s an agonizingly long pause in between. lottie stays still. like, she won’t answer. like, she can't. but you see the tremble in her lips, the wetness of her eyes starting to show. she gulps down the knot in her throat because, sometimes, she feels like she doesn’t know how to love you without letting this place eat her whole.

lottie knows exactly what you’re asking. understands exactly why you’re asking it. but, nevertheless, she knows. it’s the only thing she feels she’s ever known. the kind of thing that feels like it’s never slipped away. not like the trees she prays to. not like the voices that won’t speak to her.

because in the space between, out of all the fucked up madness that has happened, you’re still the only thing that feels tangible.

the only thing lottie can swear she will always believe in.

lottie releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding, a shudder leaving her mouth as she chokes out a sob.

“i do,” she nods. “i swear– i promise,” she chokes back a sob.

she lunges forward, hands immediately finding their place on your face as she presses against your lips. she tastes your tears, salty and warm. she doesn’t even try to wipe them away. instead, she drinks them up like they’re the only thing close to being ordained.

and in that, lottie promises to herself, reminds herself, that she’d choose better. because nothing good has ever lasted long in the wilderness. but maybe you can.

——

you made it to the spring, and for the first time in ages, you were no longer desperate or clinging to some hope that you’d live to see another day. you weren’t actively starving, and you’ve slowly found joy in the new way of things.

and, lottie, well, lottie was still lottie. even after surrendering the crown to natalie, after she survived the hunt, and after claiming the wilderness had chosen her. even after admitting she could no longer hear it. but even then, lottie still believed. she still believed there was a reason everyone was still here. and she still came back from her little solo walks with a fresh wound on her palm. an offering, she’d call it.

you’d just sigh and pull her down to the makeshift bed of your shared hut. you’d wash her palm with the lake water and wrap it in old scraps of cloth. muttering to her that if she was gonna offer something, she could at least try giving it something more convenient.

“could you try offering it a squirrel head or something next time?” you’d joke as you wrapped the fresh wound. lottie didn’t reply, not even a wince when you tightened the cloth around her hand.

“you should come with me,” she replied instead. you looked up at her expectantly. you hadn’t tried much to feel what lottie felt in the last months. but she still wanted you to believe, even if she couldn’t hear it as clearly as before. she tried with the others. she tried to keep them believing, and she tried with you. but people could only humor her for so long.

you hesitated for a moment. months ago, you would have followed her wordlessly. you would have reached for her. you would have let her pull you under until the cold didn’t bite at your skin anymore.

now, you still reached for her, but not for the same reasons. there was no hunger, no desperate need to cling to something that felt greater than you did. you changed; you had to. because you loved lottie, you loved her, and you knew that if you ended up like her, it’d end up destroying you both. you needed to be sane so that you could be there for when she needed to come back.

maybe you didn’t believe in the wilderness anymore. but you believed in her.

you smiled at lottie, holding her wounded hand in yours and bringing it to your lips. “yeah.” you nodded, agreeing with her. “i’ll go with you next time.” lottie smiled at that. you would go. even if you didn’t want to. even if it’s the last thing you’d want to do. you’d do it for her. you’d do it to keep her happy.

the days pass on as they always have. you have your weekly meetings with natalie as an advisor, along with taissa, gen, and van. you play ‘capture the bone’ along with the girls, and lottie always kisses you when you arrive back, whether in defeat or victory. and mari and shauna still bicker over their petty girl drama, and you always are thankful for having that entertainment around.

until mari goes missing.

it’s days of scavenging the surrounding woods. there isn’t any luck at all. even if you’ve tried every single trail you’ve covered in your months here. and just as you’re discussing with taissa and natalie what the next step should be. just as you’re about to decide that pronouncing mari dead as a possibility, she comes stumbling into the village, knee wrapped in a cloth as she limps across the yard.

the girls all rush towards her. helping her settle down, checking her for any injury besides her knee. you feel yourself let out the biggest sigh of relief that you didn’t have to lose someone else. at least not today.

but it all feels full circle once mari mentions being held captive by coach ben. a name you didn’t think you’d ever hear again. a man natalie had tried to convince everyone was dead. he should’ve been dead. but he isn’t. he’s holed up in some cave drinking hot chocolate.

everyone jumps at the idea of going off to find him once shauna mentions it.

“he tried to burn us alive.” you watch in shock as she spits the words out. natalie is the only one who protests against it before shauna storms off, inviting anyone to go with her in capturing him.

lottie doesn’t seem to be ecstatic about the whole ordeal. violence is usually the last thing she wants to partake in. she just nods encouragingly, understanding if it’s something that needs to be done.

you silently pack for the trip that evening before going off with the group to find him. a small part of you is hoping you won't have to bring ben back and make him face the wrath of a bunch of angry teenage girls.

“you’re scared,” lottie says from the entrance of the hut. you look up at her towering figure and huff out a laugh before turning back to what you were doing. “i’m not scared.” you don't know why you lie.

“don't lie,” she says softly, as she kneels beside you. “you don’t have to be scared,” she says it like it’s the simplest thing ever. like, this isn't ben you’re talking about. a man who you once trusted, a man you looked to for guidance. this was coach ben. coach ben, who let you sit out on practices when he saw you were too lost in your own head. he was the last piece of humanity left. the only reminder of wiskayok that wasn’t so fractured by what has become of all of you.

and you’re not sure what scares you more. the fact that he was still alive or that his capture may inevitably lead to his death.

“i just…i don’t think we should do this,” you confess. lottie all but stares at you. patient, waiting, listening, inviting you to say what you need to. like she always has.

“i mean he– he didn’t kill mari,” you start. “he let her go. he let her come back.” there’s more conviction to your words as you regain your confidence. “if he was so dangerous, wouldn’t he have left her to die?” you finish.

lottie hums, not in agreement or dismissal. she grabs your hand in hers and runs her fingers over the insides of your wrist. in some way grounding you. “he still left us.” she replies.

and that’s what it takes for you to understand fully. maybe it didn’t matter that he might’ve started the fire at the cabin, that he let mari go. maybe this was about the fact that he chose to abandon you all in search of his solitude. that he would have rather suffered alone than with all of you.

he could have chosen to stay. he could've chosen to believe. he could have survived with all of you. but he didn’t. maybe that’s why everyone was so angry. because he gave up on them.

lottie watches as the realization settles on your face. the way your mouth parts, the way you feel your throat tighten.

“don't be scared.” she says again, pulling your hand in to kiss your wrist. “we’re here. we’re here together.” you close your eyes as her words settle within you. when you open them again moments later, all you feel is that pull towards her. the one that’s always been there. only this time, it doesn’t feel like you need it to survive. you feel her. and you love her.

you love her more than the fear of what comes next.

she holds your hand in yours for a moment longer. then, with a final squeeze of her hand, you rise to your feet and sling your pack over your shoulder, ready to head off.

“i’ll be back,” you murmur, brushing a kiss against the arch of her brow before finding her lips.

"i know," she whispers, smiling.

you're gone until morning light. walking behind ben and natalie, you catch her gaze just before entering camp, a silent plea, a reminder to have her back for what comes next.

it all happens fast. shauna storms toward natalie the moment they set foot in camp, eyes blazing with the need for justice now that coach ben is in their grasp. but natalie is ready for her. she won’t let this end in blind violence.

“there has to be a trial,” she says, voice steady.

the anger in shauna’s face all but rises. her fists clenched at her sides. “after everything he’s done, you want this to be about fairness?” her voice accusatory, annoyed. melissa, from behind her speaks up in her defense, “he literally tried to burn our fucking home down!”

but you know what you’ve all become out here just as much as natalie does. what you’re trying your best not to continue to be. everything can’t be done in rage.

you step closer behind natalie, you let her feel you there. present. solid. understanding that you know she’s trying her best to do the right thing. even though she’s terrified. even if she doesn’t know what to name it.

a line has to be drawn, right? something no one should dare cross. this is that. like the thing lottie has always explained to you. some things are left out of your hands. some things happen because we aren’t meant to decide them.

and then, like you summoned her with a thought, lottie steps forward. “natalie is right. life and death has always been for it to decide.”

you see how her eyes find you as she says it, not seeking agreement but offering a reminder. of what you’ve once believed. of what she still believes.

you don’t always know what lottie hears anymore. she’s quieter than she used to be, her certainty less loud, but it’s still there, alive in the way she looks at the world and at you.

there’s a long silence. coach ben shifts between his feet.

“okay,” mari speaks up, warily. “how does a trial even look like out here?”

you glance back at lottie. she doesn’t say anything. she doesn't need to. this part is yours. this is up to the rest of you.

natalie shares a look between you and lottie before she steps forward. “we gather everyone. lay out what we know, and take a vote. it isn’t perfect…but it’s something.”

you hear shauna’s huff at her words. her nose flares in frustration, and you know she has something to say but decides against it. instead, she storms off into her hut, melissa trailing behind her.

natalie glances to you at her side, another silent plead. an agreement. you give her a nod. you have her back, no matter what. people disperse into their groups, you hear the mutterings, the doubts. some already taking sides. you don’t care.

you’re just glad there’s still some order to things around here.

you close your eyes for a moment and inhale. you don’t have to open your eyes to know that lottie has appeared next to you. her hand brushes yours, and it feels like coming down to earth. you exhale. when you open them again, you find her looking right at you. it’s there. a knowing. a stillness. how she knows exactly when you need her. you cling to that.

everyone gathers in the center of the village not long after. you sit quietly beside misty and ben, your knee bouncing, heart lodged somewhere between your chest and throat. you scan the faces around the table, searching for something. certainty, doubt, anything human.

your eyes catch on lottie when you glance behind you.

she’s across from you, expression unreadable as she shuffles the deck of cards with steady hands. when your eyes meet, she doesn’t say a word. but she doesn’t have to. you know her. and you know what silence like that means.

when van steps forward and announces natalie as the judge, your stomach twists. the weight of it hits you all at once. how real this is. how far you've come. how far you've fallen.

you turn to misty, voice low but certain. “misty.” she looks at you, wide-eyed.

“give it everything you’ve got.”

the whole trial is anything but easy. it’s stressful, terrifying, and relentless. mari shares her side. then shauna. you're almost ready to object when lottie steps up, until you realize where misty is steering the narrative. then natalie takes the stand, and it’s brutal watching her get shut down again and again once everyone learns she knew ben was alive. you want to speak up, to defend her, but she shoots you a look that says, not now. don’t risk it.

so you bite your tongue, even though it burns.

when ben takes the stand, you can barely look at him. he’s a shadow of the man you remember, broken and hollowed out by everything he’s endured.

he doesn’t even try to defend himself anymore, not really, but there’s still this heartbreaking honesty in the way he answers. like he knows it won’t save him, but he has to speak anyway. and then he starts talking about his life. all the things he hated, all the ways he felt stuck, but says it was all bearable because he got to coach you. the team. because he saw something in everyone that no one else ever bothered to look for.

you feel your throat close up, eyes burning. there’s no way, there’s just no way everyone in this room still wants to kill him. how can they? how can you? how can you all be about to vote him guilty? he’s not a monster. he’s not the villain of this story. he’s just a man who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. and now he’s going to die for it.

when it comes to voting, you have hope. it’s all you have for this. the one thing you’ve always held onto since being here. lottie looks teary-eyed, so does tai, and travis; they all do. but still, a part of you knows a few tears aren’t enough to save a man from death.

natalie glances at you as she approaches the table, jaw tight, like she doesn’t know whether to be hopeful or nervous.

“okay,” she looks around scanning everyone's faces. “we vote guilty or innocent with the raise of hands.” she gulps. “we vote until we get two-thirds.”

the first round. guilty, guilty, innocent, guilty, innocent, innocent, guilty, innocent, innocent, innocent. but it isn’t two-thirds.

“that’s not two-thirds,” natalie calls as she scans everyone's hands. “we have to vote again… until people change their vote.”

it’s silent. then again. people raise their hands. fall again. then raise. again. again. again.

it’s brutal, silent, and feels like crushing something soft. every. single. time. like you’re all operating some mechanical machine meant to press things closed until there’s no air left. you keep your hand steady. you never change your mind. but you feel it. you feel the pressure winning.

and then shauna disrupts. angry, upset, and nothing of what she says, nothing she does, is supposed to be allowed. natalie tries to disrupt her. to tell her this isn’t right. that she isn’t allowed to intercept the vote in any way. of course, shauna doesn't listen. all she has to do is give natalie some look before she cowers back.

and all shauna has to do to manipulate everyone is appeal to their emotions. to remind them that ben still left them, and so he must've burned the cabin down. in that, she also manages to make everyone question natalie’s leadership.

this time, van, shauna, melissa, gen, travis, akilah, and lottie all vote guilty.

when it’s over, the two-thirds is met. ben is found guilty. the sentence comes next.

you block the rest out. numbing all of it, as if ignoring it might make it less real. but it’s real. it’s all very real. and someone is going to die because of it.

you don’t even look at lottie. not right away, at least. too upset to even look her in the eyes. but you do glance up eventually, and you see the look in her eyes. like she knows what she’s just done, like maybe she’s hopeful you’ll understand. like she didn’t just let the fucking trees decide for her.

and the worst part is she thinks she did the right thing.

even if it hurt you in the end.

you huffed, walking off before you could say something cruel. lottie doesn’t try to follow you.

you tried to cool off. you walked laps around the edge of camp, hands stuffed into your pockets. you try to make sense of everything that’s just happened, but it never becomes clearer to you. and you decided it isn’t something you wanted to try and understand, especially if it isn’t something that felt right.

when you return to camp, it’s already the evening. you miss dinner, but you don’t find yourself caring.

lottie is there when you enter your shared hut—quickly rising to her feet as soon as she sees you, like she’s ready for whatever you’re about to give her.

but you don’t. you don’t give her anything.

you clench your jaw and brush past her, ready to head off to bed in the cot you share with her. you go through your motions of getting ready for bed and when you’re done you lay facing the wall of the hut, avoiding looking at lottie at all. she decides she’d break the silence instead.

“i know you’re mad,” she starts, stepping closer to the cot's edge. “but, you have to understand that i chose what it made me feel.”

her words make something in you snap, like all the anger you’ve held onto all day has finally reached its limit. you turn to face her, she doesn’t cower back when she notices the obvious anger on your face.

“well, i am mad,” you say with a silent venom. “i’m fucking upset, lot.”

“i just wanted to–”

“no!” you hiss, rising from the cot to look her eye to eye. “i told you how i felt, and you took that and didn’t think about what it would feel like for me when you chose something i was obviously against.”

lottie blinks slowly at you. she gives you that small, unadulterated smile as if she understands that you may not see it her way. and if she’s offended by your words, she doesn’t show it.

“i know it may seem unfair, but sometimes it knows more than we do. sometimes, it’ll show us things to push us towards a certain direction–”

“weren’t you the one who said some things aren’t for us to decide?” you counter.

“they aren’t.” she says, steadily.

“then why?” you demand. “you saw how broken he was! he’s innocent. hell, you even cried during his testimony, lottie.”

“we all voted,” she steps closer, trying to reach for your hand. “we all felt something and chose.”

“no,” you shake your head, stepping back. you feel the lump in your throat tighten. “don’t do that. don’t hide behind it.”

she calls your name, as if hearing her say it may bring you back to her. as if maybe it’d get you to understand. “i didn’t want it to end this way.”

you try to swallow down the tears, try to force yourself not to just yell at her for what will happen. part of you understands this isn't her fault. that it isn’t anything she can help. still, you can’t help but want to blame someone for the way things are. if it’s even something that can be protected from the kind of thing that doesn’t bleed, but continues to demand sacrifice.

you whisper, broken but clear. “don’t you remember what you promised?”

you see the glass start to break. her mouth parts, eyes turn glassy. you hear her small exhale at your words.

“i don’t want to lose you.” she whispers.

“then don’t.”

[keepingitformyself]

but i am flesh and blood (and this flesh has needs) ii

synopsis: even with the snow finally melted you find yourself questioning whether it’s even possible to protect the girl you love from something that doesn’t bleed. or is she too far gone to come back?

pairings: lottie matthews x reader

genre: angst, violent themes, fluff.

warnings: blood, typical yellowjackets violence.

word count: 4.3k

read the first part here

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

three months before the spring.

it doesn't feel as cold as it used to. but that doesn’t help much when you’ve spent the past few weeks crammed in some splintering wooden hut with everyone else. it doesn’t ease the weight of losing the cabin that still burns despite its ultimate collapse weeks ago.

the snow still bites at your skin when the wind gets harsher. your ribs still ache with the hunger you’ve grown accustomed to. but lottie still holds you close despite it all. she still whispers silent prayers with her arms wrapped around you. she lets you cry into the curve of her neck when you need to. she says, ‘i love you’ like it’s the only truth she’s never cracked. she looks at you like you’re the one thing that’s always felt real.

and you kiss her when you need to remember that she’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt for you out here.

you start to have dreams shortly after the cabin burns down. sometimes they’re pleasant. dreams of you living another life. a life where you still play soccer, where lottie is there loving you, like nothing bad has ever touched you both. like, there wasn’t some strange and unfortunate string of fate that brought you together.

other times, the dreams are cruel, scarier. the cabin is there, whole again, but nothing about it feels right. people who shouldn’t be there are alive. greying, blue corpses that talk. you smell the smoke, but there’s no fire. and you feel the heat despite feeling the harsh wind of the cold blowing through the hut.

when the flames finally do come, you shoot awake from your sleep. your breathing is laboured, and tears stain your cheeks. lottie is already there to hold your hand. like it’s some twisted routine you’ve both come up with. you never ask, she doesn’t either. she’s just always there, like maybe she was waiting for you to come back.

you think maybe she was. maybe she also has the same dreams.

one night, when the dreams seem more brutal, lottie is there again to hold you close. you wake in quiet sobs enough to wake the others up. lottie cradles you, holds you close to her chest, and you let the sound of her breathing ground you as you sob into her collarbone.

“you’re safe,” she repeats into your hair. you believe it. because god has never answered your prayers the way she did.

the others watch with worried expressions. natalie looks at you like she’s uncertain of something. tai looks like she wants to reach for you as well, but never does, once catching lottie’s gaze. and shauna doesn’t look at all.

later that day, when you’re supposed to be sourcing wood to build with, you catch lottie again. she’s crouched by a tree, looking distantly at it as if it were speaking to her. you don't announce yourself; instead, she’s already meeting your gaze before you call for her.

“lottie,” you say, but it sounds like a plea. you drop down beside her, her hands reaching for your face.

“what is it?” she asks, but it sounds like she’s barely even here. and you don’t notice how tears start streaming down your face until she’s trying to wipe them off with her thumbs.

“what’s wrong?” she asks again, this time more present. you feel the warmth of her breath hitting your face.

you shake your head, trying to move her hands off you. but she holds on tighter.

“no,” you manage to say.

“what?” she searches your face.

“you have to promise me something,” you say once finally clutching her hands in yours.

lottie looks at you, searching out of confusion, or nervousness, or both.

“look at me,” you say low, but pointedly. “please, look at me.”

“i’m here,” she whispers, “i’m looking.”

you move one of her hands to press against your chest, over your heart.

“do you feel this? the way it beats?”

she nods her head. eyebrows furrowed, “i feel it. i feel you.”

“it means i believe in you,” you whisper, “it means i love you.”

a beat.

“i need you to believe in us, too.”

there’s an agonizingly long pause in between. lottie stays still. like, she won’t answer. like, she can't. but you see the tremble in her lips, the wetness of her eyes starting to show. she gulps down the knot in her throat because, sometimes, she feels like she doesn’t know how to love you without letting this place eat her whole.

lottie knows exactly what you’re asking. understands exactly why you’re asking it. but, nevertheless, she knows. it’s the only thing she feels she’s ever known. the kind of thing that feels like it’s never slipped away. not like the trees she prays to. not like the voices that won’t speak to her.

because in the space between, out of all the fucked up madness that has happened, you’re still the only thing that feels tangible.

the only thing lottie can swear she will always believe in.

lottie releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding, a shudder leaving her mouth as she chokes out a sob.

“i do,” she nods. “i swear– i promise,” she chokes back a sob.

she lunges forward, hands immediately finding their place on your face as she presses against your lips. she tastes your tears, salty and warm. she doesn’t even try to wipe them away. instead, she drinks them up like they’re the only thing close to being ordained.

and in that, lottie promises to herself, reminds herself, that she’d choose better. because nothing good has ever lasted long in the wilderness. but maybe you can.

——

you made it to the spring, and for the first time in ages, you were no longer desperate or clinging to some hope that you’d live to see another day. you weren’t actively starving, and you’ve slowly found joy in the new way of things.

and, lottie, well, lottie was still lottie. even after surrendering the crown to natalie, after she survived the hunt, and after claiming the wilderness had chosen her. even after admitting she could no longer hear it. but even then, lottie still believed. she still believed there was a reason everyone was still here. and she still came back from her little solo walks with a fresh wound on her palm. an offering, she’d call it.

you’d just sigh and pull her down to the makeshift bed of your shared hut. you’d wash her palm with the lake water and wrap it in old scraps of cloth. muttering to her that if she was gonna offer something, she could at least try giving it something more convenient.

“could you try offering it a squirrel head or something next time?” you’d joke as you wrapped the fresh wound. lottie didn’t reply, not even a wince when you tightened the cloth around her hand.

“you should come with me,” she replied instead. you looked up at her expectantly. you hadn’t tried much to feel what lottie felt in the last months. but she still wanted you to believe, even if she couldn’t hear it as clearly as before. she tried with the others. she tried to keep them believing, and she tried with you. but people could only humor her for so long.

you hesitated for a moment. months ago, you would have followed her wordlessly. you would have reached for her. you would have let her pull you under until the cold didn’t bite at your skin anymore.

now, you still reached for her, but not for the same reasons. there was no hunger, no desperate need to cling to something that felt greater than you did. you changed; you had to. because you loved lottie, you loved her, and you knew that if you ended up like her, it’d end up destroying you both. you needed to be sane so that you could be there for when she needed to come back.

maybe you didn’t believe in the wilderness anymore. but you believed in her.

you smiled at lottie, holding her wounded hand in yours and bringing it to your lips. “yeah.” you nodded, agreeing with her. “i’ll go with you next time.” lottie smiled at that. you would go. even if you didn’t want to. even if it’s the last thing you’d want to do. you’d do it for her. you’d do it to keep her happy.

the days pass on as they always have. you have your weekly meetings with natalie as an advisor, along with taissa, gen, and van. you play ‘capture the bone’ along with the girls, and lottie always kisses you when you arrive back, whether in defeat or victory. and mari and shauna still bicker over their petty girl drama, and you always are thankful for having that entertainment around.

until mari goes missing.

it’s days of scavenging the surrounding woods. there isn’t any luck at all. even if you’ve tried every single trail you’ve covered in your months here. and just as you’re discussing with taissa and natalie what the next step should be. just as you’re about to decide that pronouncing mari dead as a possibility, she comes stumbling into the village, knee wrapped in a cloth as she limps across the yard.

the girls all rush towards her. helping her settle down, checking her for any injury besides her knee. you feel yourself let out the biggest sigh of relief that you didn’t have to lose someone else. at least not today.

but it all feels full circle once mari mentions being held captive by coach ben. a name you didn’t think you’d ever hear again. a man natalie had tried to convince everyone was dead. he should’ve been dead. but he isn’t. he’s holed up in some cave drinking hot chocolate.

everyone jumps at the idea of going off to find him once shauna mentions it.

“he tried to burn us alive.” you watch in shock as she spits the words out. natalie is the only one who protests against it before shauna storms off, inviting anyone to go with her in capturing him.

lottie doesn’t seem to be ecstatic about the whole ordeal. violence is usually the last thing she wants to partake in. she just nods encouragingly, understanding if it’s something that needs to be done.

you silently pack for the trip that evening before going off with the group to find him. a small part of you is hoping you won't have to bring ben back and make him face the wrath of a bunch of angry teenage girls.

“you’re scared,” lottie says from the entrance of the hut. you look up at her towering figure and huff out a laugh before turning back to what you were doing. “i’m not scared.” you don't know why you lie.

“don't lie,” she says softly, as she kneels beside you. “you don’t have to be scared,” she says it like it’s the simplest thing ever. like, this isn't ben you’re talking about. a man who you once trusted, a man you looked to for guidance. this was coach ben. coach ben, who let you sit out on practices when he saw you were too lost in your own head. he was the last piece of humanity left. the only reminder of wiskayok that wasn’t so fractured by what has become of all of you.

and you’re not sure what scares you more. the fact that he was still alive or that his capture may inevitably lead to his death.

“i just…i don’t think we should do this,” you confess. lottie all but stares at you. patient, waiting, listening, inviting you to say what you need to. like she always has.

“i mean he– he didn’t kill mari,” you start. “he let her go. he let her come back.” there’s more conviction to your words as you regain your confidence. “if he was so dangerous, wouldn’t he have left her to die?” you finish.

lottie hums, not in agreement or dismissal. she grabs your hand in hers and runs her fingers over the insides of your wrist. in some way grounding you. “he still left us.” she replies.

and that’s what it takes for you to understand fully. maybe it didn’t matter that he might’ve started the fire at the cabin, that he let mari go. maybe this was about the fact that he chose to abandon you all in search of his solitude. that he would have rather suffered alone than with all of you.

he could have chosen to stay. he could've chosen to believe. he could have survived with all of you. but he didn’t. maybe that’s why everyone was so angry. because he gave up on them.

lottie watches as the realization settles on your face. the way your mouth parts, the way you feel your throat tighten.

“don't be scared.” she says again, pulling your hand in to kiss your wrist. “we’re here. we’re here together.” you close your eyes as her words settle within you. when you open them again moments later, all you feel is that pull towards her. the one that’s always been there. only this time, it doesn’t feel like you need it to survive. you feel her. and you love her.

you love her more than the fear of what comes next.

she holds your hand in yours for a moment longer. then, with a final squeeze of her hand, you rise to your feet and sling your pack over your shoulder, ready to head off.

“i’ll be back,” you murmur, brushing a kiss against the arch of her brow before finding her lips.

"i know," she whispers, smiling.

you're gone until morning light. walking behind ben and natalie, you catch her gaze just before entering camp, a silent plea, a reminder to have her back for what comes next.

it all happens fast. shauna storms toward natalie the moment they set foot in camp, eyes blazing with the need for justice now that coach ben is in their grasp. but natalie is ready for her. she won’t let this end in blind violence.

“there has to be a trial,” she says, voice steady.

the anger in shauna’s face all but rises. her fists clenched at her sides. “after everything he’s done, you want this to be about fairness?” her voice accusatory, annoyed. melissa, from behind her speaks up in her defense, “he literally tried to burn our fucking home down!”

but you know what you’ve all become out here just as much as natalie does. what you’re trying your best not to continue to be. everything can’t be done in rage.

you step closer behind natalie, you let her feel you there. present. solid. understanding that you know she’s trying her best to do the right thing. even though she’s terrified. even if she doesn’t know what to name it.

a line has to be drawn, right? something no one should dare cross. this is that. like the thing lottie has always explained to you. some things are left out of your hands. some things happen because we aren’t meant to decide them.

and then, like you summoned her with a thought, lottie steps forward. “natalie is right. life and death has always been for it to decide.”

you see how her eyes find you as she says it, not seeking agreement but offering a reminder. of what you’ve once believed. of what she still believes.

you don’t always know what lottie hears anymore. she’s quieter than she used to be, her certainty less loud, but it’s still there, alive in the way she looks at the world and at you.

there’s a long silence. coach ben shifts between his feet.

“okay,” mari speaks up, warily. “how does a trial even look like out here?”

you glance back at lottie. she doesn’t say anything. she doesn't need to. this part is yours. this is up to the rest of you.

natalie shares a look between you and lottie before she steps forward. “we gather everyone. lay out what we know, and take a vote. it isn’t perfect…but it’s something.”

you hear shauna’s huff at her words. her nose flares in frustration, and you know she has something to say but decides against it. instead, she storms off into her hut, melissa trailing behind her.

natalie glances to you at her side, another silent plead. an agreement. you give her a nod. you have her back, no matter what. people disperse into their groups, you hear the mutterings, the doubts. some already taking sides. you don’t care.

you’re just glad there’s still some order to things around here.

you close your eyes for a moment and inhale. you don’t have to open your eyes to know that lottie has appeared next to you. her hand brushes yours, and it feels like coming down to earth. you exhale. when you open them again, you find her looking right at you. it’s there. a knowing. a stillness. how she knows exactly when you need her. you cling to that.

everyone gathers in the center of the village not long after. you sit quietly beside misty and ben, your knee bouncing, heart lodged somewhere between your chest and throat. you scan the faces around the table, searching for something. certainty, doubt, anything human.

your eyes catch on lottie when you glance behind you.

she’s across from you, expression unreadable as she shuffles the deck of cards with steady hands. when your eyes meet, she doesn’t say a word. but she doesn’t have to. you know her. and you know what silence like that means.

when van steps forward and announces natalie as the judge, your stomach twists. the weight of it hits you all at once. how real this is. how far you've come. how far you've fallen.

you turn to misty, voice low but certain. “misty.” she looks at you, wide-eyed.

“give it everything you’ve got.”

the whole trial is anything but easy. it’s stressful, terrifying, and relentless. mari shares her side. then shauna. you're almost ready to object when lottie steps up, until you realize where misty is steering the narrative. then natalie takes the stand, and it’s brutal watching her get shut down again and again once everyone learns she knew ben was alive. you want to speak up, to defend her, but she shoots you a look that says, not now. don’t risk it.

so you bite your tongue, even though it burns.

when ben takes the stand, you can barely look at him. he’s a shadow of the man you remember, broken and hollowed out by everything he’s endured.

he doesn’t even try to defend himself anymore, not really, but there’s still this heartbreaking honesty in the way he answers. like he knows it won’t save him, but he has to speak anyway. and then he starts talking about his life. all the things he hated, all the ways he felt stuck, but says it was all bearable because he got to coach you. the team. because he saw something in everyone that no one else ever bothered to look for.

you feel your throat close up, eyes burning. there’s no way, there’s just no way everyone in this room still wants to kill him. how can they? how can you? how can you all be about to vote him guilty? he’s not a monster. he’s not the villain of this story. he’s just a man who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. and now he’s going to die for it.

when it comes to voting, you have hope. it’s all you have for this. the one thing you’ve always held onto since being here. lottie looks teary-eyed, so does tai, and travis; they all do. but still, a part of you knows a few tears aren’t enough to save a man from death.

natalie glances at you as she approaches the table, jaw tight, like she doesn’t know whether to be hopeful or nervous.

“okay,” she looks around scanning everyone's faces. “we vote guilty or innocent with the raise of hands.” she gulps. “we vote until we get two-thirds.”

the first round. guilty, guilty, innocent, guilty, innocent, innocent, guilty, innocent, innocent, innocent. but it isn’t two-thirds.

“that’s not two-thirds,” natalie calls as she scans everyone's hands. “we have to vote again… until people change their vote.”

it’s silent. then again. people raise their hands. fall again. then raise. again. again. again.

it’s brutal, silent, and feels like crushing something soft. every. single. time. like you’re all operating some mechanical machine meant to press things closed until there’s no air left. you keep your hand steady. you never change your mind. but you feel it. you feel the pressure winning.

and then shauna disrupts. angry, upset, and nothing of what she says, nothing she does, is supposed to be allowed. natalie tries to disrupt her. to tell her this isn’t right. that she isn’t allowed to intercept the vote in any way. of course, shauna doesn't listen. all she has to do is give natalie some look before she cowers back.

and all shauna has to do to manipulate everyone is appeal to their emotions. to remind them that ben still left them, and so he must've burned the cabin down. in that, she also manages to make everyone question natalie’s leadership.

this time, van, shauna, melissa, gen, travis, akilah, and lottie all vote guilty.

when it’s over, the two-thirds is met. ben is found guilty. the sentence comes next.

you block the rest out. numbing all of it, as if ignoring it might make it less real. but it’s real. it’s all very real. and someone is going to die because of it.

you don’t even look at lottie. not right away, at least. too upset to even look her in the eyes. but you do glance up eventually, and you see the look in her eyes. like she knows what she’s just done, like maybe she’s hopeful you’ll understand. like she didn’t just let the fucking trees decide for her.

and the worst part is she thinks she did the right thing.

even if it hurt you in the end.

you huffed, walking off before you could say something cruel. lottie doesn’t try to follow you.

you tried to cool off. you walked laps around the edge of camp, hands stuffed into your pockets. you try to make sense of everything that’s just happened, but it never becomes clearer to you. and you decided it isn’t something you wanted to try and understand, especially if it isn’t something that felt right.

when you return to camp, it’s already the evening. you miss dinner, but you don’t find yourself caring.

lottie is there when you enter your shared hut—quickly rising to her feet as soon as she sees you, like she’s ready for whatever you’re about to give her.

but you don’t. you don’t give her anything.

you clench your jaw and brush past her, ready to head off to bed in the cot you share with her. you go through your motions of getting ready for bed and when you’re done you lay facing the wall of the hut, avoiding looking at lottie at all. she decides she’d break the silence instead.

“i know you’re mad,” she starts, stepping closer to the cot's edge. “but, you have to understand that i chose what it made me feel.”

her words make something in you snap, like all the anger you’ve held onto all day has finally reached its limit. you turn to face her, she doesn’t cower back when she notices the obvious anger on your face.

“well, i am mad,” you say with a silent venom. “i’m fucking upset, lot.”

“i just wanted to–”

“no!” you hiss, rising from the cot to look her eye to eye. “i told you how i felt, and you took that and didn’t think about what it would feel like for me when you chose something i was obviously against.”

lottie blinks slowly at you. she gives you that small, unadulterated smile as if she understands that you may not see it her way. and if she’s offended by your words, she doesn’t show it.

“i know it may seem unfair, but sometimes it knows more than we do. sometimes, it’ll show us things to push us towards a certain direction–”

“weren’t you the one who said some things aren’t for us to decide?” you counter.

“they aren’t.” she says, steadily.

“then why?” you demand. “you saw how broken he was! he’s innocent. hell, you even cried during his testimony, lottie.”

“we all voted,” she steps closer, trying to reach for your hand. “we all felt something and chose.”

“no,” you shake your head, stepping back. you feel the lump in your throat tighten. “don’t do that. don’t hide behind it.”

she calls your name, as if hearing her say it may bring you back to her. as if maybe it’d get you to understand. “i didn’t want it to end this way.”

you try to swallow down the tears, try to force yourself not to just yell at her for what will happen. part of you understands this isn't her fault. that it isn’t anything she can help. still, you can’t help but want to blame someone for the way things are. if it’s even something that can be protected from the kind of thing that doesn’t bleed, but continues to demand sacrifice.

you whisper, broken but clear. “don’t you remember what you promised?”

you see the glass start to break. her mouth parts, eyes turn glassy. you hear her small exhale at your words.

“i don’t want to lose you.” she whispers.

“then don’t.”

[keepingitformyself]

anyways new lottie fic tmr perchance hehehe

[keepingitformyself]

drove in a hail storm today #thatwassoscaryithoughtiwasgonnadie

[keepingitformyself]

don’t get a job in filmmaking.

[keepingitformyself]

lottie “i feel it so deeply in my bones” matthews

[keepingitformyself]

nvm all men are the same and he still talks with his ex (they broke up two weeks ago)

guys i have a crush on a man omfg

[keepingitformyself]

chat gpt has destroyed writing expectations. like wdym using proper grammar makes your work more ai detectable ???????

[keepingitformyself]

i watched thunderbolts* and yelena belova the woman that u are.

[keepingitformyself]

yellowjackets specifically focusing on the spiral into madness through a teenage girl lens was sooo crucial to its plot and development. would it have been different if it were a group of boys instead of girls? yes, definitely. would it have been more violent? more brutal? no. there is something so innately psychological about seeing young women at peak adolescence just go mad. the thing with these young women is that they were already trying to balance between so many things at once. school, identity, sexuality, love, loyalty, friendship, socialization, mental illness. them being put in a position where they had to challenge all of these things for the sake of survival pushed them way past a boundary they were told they should never cross. since the beginning of time women have always been these creatures that were either too innocent or too hysterical. no in between. women are very emotional beings. their anger, their sadness, their grief, is always much more complex. it’s something they’ve been taught to always hold in. it isn’t surface level stuff. it builds up. it bubbles and bubbles and then it comes out haunted, and messy, and fucking terrifying. men? they don’t get told to not get angry. they’re allowed to yell, to scream, to tell people off. it’s as easy as that. their spiral into madness wouldn’t have felt like it needed to be justified or have some other meaning to it. these young women however, it’s so much different. it’s bottled up, and shaken. their violence, their love, their grief, their rage is all so much more emotionally driven, there’s always some logic to it. some way to find connection back to it. it has to have meaning. it has to have ritual. and at the end of it, it’s them reclaiming a power they were never allowed to have.

[keepingitformyself]

found this on twitter lmfao this took me out 😭🤣💀

[keepingitformyself]

ohhhh this was TEW GOOD IM CHOKING MYSELF

TRICK OR TREAT —

natalie scatorccio and shauna shipman. (PT.2 to W.I.T.H.)

"I know what Halloween is, Shauna." you grumble, rolling your eyes.

"You sure?", she asks, grinning widely as she adjusts the paper horns on the guide's decapitated head. "I could make you a presentation— but no promises that it won't just be several pages of 'The terribly drawn adventures of Count Chocula and Franken Berry.' "

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

-⋆˚꩜｡ synopsis — ever since the knife incident, Shauna's been latched onto you like a leech hungry for blood. as annoying as this is, an opportunity for escape presents itself in the form of your girlfriend, Nat. you let yourself indulge in malicious compliance with what 'It' wills. (requested part 2 to Wolf In the Headlights !)

-⋆˚꩜｡ content contains — fem! reader, yellowjackets typical antics, yellowjackets season 3 spoilers, shauna shipman being shauna shipman, marriage blood rituals (no, you're not reading this wrong), infidelity but not really??? blood, blah blah blah, you know the drill, I am not a botanist chat, consensual (ish) drugging, clap if you're surprised, blood drinking, suggestive-ish?? wow this is long—

══════════════════════════

ever since the knife incident™, you were under the, quite frankly, delusional impression that maybe Shauna would leave you alone now. maybe, just maybe, you and Nat could now live out the rest of your miserable, definitely shortened lifespan without the imposing influence of America's First Female Dictator (trademark pending).

as you might've guessed, that was not the case. if anything, she's just gotten even more annoyingly clingy and paranoid now— you didn't even know that was possible.

the whole 'good dog' comment was a spur of the moment thing. the most condescending, degrading insult you could think of at the moment (granted, not a very creative one). she took it to heart, as luck would have it.

she goes everywhere you go.

you're trying to do your chores? she's right next to you— not helping, but watching you do your work, sharpening that darn knife of hers like it wouldn't cut through diamond at this point.

try to sneak off with Nat for a secret, much needed makeout session? she pops out of seemingly nowhere, her footsteps blending in with the rustling of the trees, and completely ruins the vibe by scaring the living daylights out of the two of you.

it'd gotten to the point where you considered joining Lottie's weird wilderness cult to escape her— the one thing Shauna refuses to touch with a ten-foot pole.

unfortunately, Nat was on Shauna's side with that one, so that idea was completely vetoed. in her words, 'joining a cult is all fun and games until you realise that you can't leave'. you can't help but agree.

Shauna's 'affection' (heavy air quotes on that) isn't just limited to stalking either. she's been trying to show off for you— and by that, I mean that she's been showing off. plain and simple.

if she walked around like she had a stick up her ass before, there's an entire tree up there now. her favourite pastimes (since she was freed from butcher duty once she became queen) now include (but aren't limited to):

poking fun at Nat every chance she gets (expected, but disappointing nonetheless),

alternating between sneering at the will of the wilderness and fully supporting whatever It wills as long as it involves violence,

hitting on you like it's her full time job instead of actually trying to lead the group,

turning down Melissa's advances, thoroughly confusing the poor girl who she made out with less than a week ago, and finally—

running a full blown dictatorship with hut searches, body patdowns every morning (and she does yours personally), etc and relishing in the fact that no one can tell her to stop.

you're actually not quite sure why none of you have tried to impeach your 'queen' yet. you've brought up the topic with Nat in your hut before lights out almost every day, and every day she gives you the same answer— "She sees through our bullshit. We need a foolproof plan before we try to pull anything on her."

even worse, Hannah killed the guide dude. y'know, your pathway back home? yeah. so now she's in with the group and besties with Shauna, apparently. typical. homicidal murderers stay together, as you had remarked to Nat. you both chose to ignore the hypocrisy in that sentence.

so that's been your life now for the past couple of weeks. the days have been getting colder, and with it, everyone has been getting antsier.

Akilah has started frantically trying to breed out the animals as quickly as possible. small groups of two or three go out deeper and deeper into the woods every day to try to salvage whatever herbs and fruits they can find and possibly bring back their seeds. the animals have started retreating deeper. you've managed to skin and gut enough of them to get a decent supply of meat and warm fur, but it's not enough. it's still not enough.

inevitably, what you've been dreading will happen. winter will come and pass. your numbers will grow smaller and the pile of corpses will grow larger. who knows, maybe yours will be among them?

these were the wonderful thoughts that have been floating around in your head for the past week or so.

then came your salvation. Nat dragged you into your hut one night, claiming that she wanted to hit the hay early— odd, considering that she usually stayed up for hours on end after the sun went down (which signalled lights off, given that not one of you apparently thought to bring a watch with you to nationals), but you went with it. the days have been draining you of whatever little energy you did have.

to your surprise, what you expected to be an hour long cuddle session before falling asleep turned out to be a surreptitious strategy meeting. Gen, Robin, Melissa, Mari, Akilah, Van, Tai and even Misty piled into your tiny, cramped hut one by one.

"We needed to get you away from Shauna." Gen explains in a low voice, setting the torch down in its makeshift torch holder. Nat's jaw clenches. "She follows you everywhere. She has this nasty habit of sticking around our hut every night to make sure we aren't plotting against her."

your eyebrows raise just slightly. "Well I can't really say I'm surprised. So what changed tonight?"

Gen nods to Akilah. "Lottie tired her out today", Akilah tells you, her voice hushed as she glances around nervously. "I told her that I had a vision that Shauna would be our salvation. She basically forced Shauna out of her hut and took her to the woods to spend some quality time with her."

"Probably exchanging notes on how to piss us all off with tales of the wilderness and it's hunger for violence." Mari remarks to some nervous giggles.

"And you're sure she's asleep?" you ask, shifting backwards so that you're leaning against Nat, folding your legs in to make room for everyone else.

"We drugged her." Tai holds up a bunch of leaves you can't put a name to. you frown. you've seen some patches of these around your usual snare areas. "Akilah recognised these from her time with the Girl Scouts. We mixed it into her share of the berry juice. They made her sleepier. Van and I had to carry her to her hut. She was out like a light before we even set her down."

"She actually trusted you enough to drink it?", you ask, aghast. this was the same Shauna who had once threatened Robin at knife point to the point of tears because her stew was slightly off-colour. turns out, Mari had put in some natural laxatives in hers, just out of pettiness. they turned the stew a darker colour. she served a week on latrine duty for pulling that one.

"Well, yes, under normal circumstances she would've probably forced it down my throat, can, juice and all—", Van admits, her head drooping onto Tai's shoulder, "but I drank some of it in front of her to convince her. I don't think we fully got there but she was too tired to protest."

"And Lottie?", you persist. usually she's more on neutral territory, but she seems to have joined the Shauna Shipman hype train when she got the chance.

"Already taken care of." Tai replies, tucking Van's now sleeping head under her chin. "She accepted the juice without giving us any problems." "She likes sleeping early at night anyway." Akilah adds. "She likes the clarity the dreamless sleep gives her."

"Course she does." Nat snorts.

you're filled in on the plan, the girls enthusiastically rapid-firing their strategy at you. you're surprised to hear about the satellite cell thing from a suspiciously quiet, red-in-the-face Misty. Nat keeps glaring at her every now and then. you're not sure why.

with each word that leaves their lips, your heart becomes lighter and lighter. a way to get home. away from the wilderness. away from It. away from this rag-tag village made by teenage girls with not a single complete high school education between them and a body count that grows with each passing day.

"So...you in?" Nat asks finally, when all the girls have extinguished their frenetic explanations.

It's a no-brainer— you're getting good at those.

"Yes.", you reply immediately. "Hell yes. I'm so tired of this. I'm so tired of her." you get sympathetic nods. "I just— need to get away from her."

Misty holds up a finger. "But- wait. There is...a crucial role for you to play in the plan..", she explains nervously, looking around for support. everyone else determinedly avoids eye contact. she sighs dejectedly.

you're grateful that Shauna sleeps deeply when she does. you would've given the game away with the explosive reaction you had to the role you were assigned.

the next morning, you tramp out of your hut, steaming mad. Nat follows behind you, yelling after you and cussing loudly. you make as loud a ruckus as you can. sure enough, Shauna is stomping out of her own hut in half a minute, gun slung over her shoulder, hair tousled from sleep, her face twisted in annoyance and just the slightest hint of intrigue.

"Don't you fucking lie to me!" Nat snarls as you stomp off towards the animal pen. she grabs your arm roughly, spinning you around to face her dark eyes.. "— hey! I'm talking to you."

sure enough, Shauna storms up to Nat like a knight in blood stained flannel, shoving her off of you by the collar of her shirt. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Shauna hisses, advancing on Nat threateningly. one finger strokes the strap of her gun menacingly and Nat backs up a bit.

Nat eyes her gun for a bit and decides she wants nothing to do with that. "I'm gonna go check on the snares." she announces loudly. then, she shoots you a withering glare. "If there's any left."

she storms off towards the forest bordering the village, leaving a trail of literal dust fuming behind her. you cough as you wave it out of your face.

Shauna turns to you. "The hell was that about?", she asks. her tone is even enough, but you can glean the excitement in her eyes, the vehement tapping of her fingers against her chest.

you roll your eyes. "Nothing. It's nothing." Shauna groans in frustration. you start to imitate Nat, storming towards your hut, but she catches your wrist, spinning you around to face her again. her face is set in annoyance.

"It's not fucking nothing. Your beloved girlfriend, who was being a complete doormat for you like two days ago, is now starting fights with you at— like, the asscrack of dawn.", she snarls, her tone holding just the slightest hint of jealousy. "Now you're gonna tell me what's going on. Or so help me god, you're gonna pay for it."

god. she sounds like a corny stuckup villain from one of those archaic movies your parents used to watch. you think. you might just be making that up. you can't remember the last time you watched a movie.

you huff, kicking around the pebbles on the ground with the tip of your boot, muttering incomprehensible curses before giving in. "Yesterday, Nat couldn't sleep at night. She decided to break curfew and go check on some of the nets we strung up around those berry patches Gen found. They were completely ripped to shreds."

you pause for dramatic effect, looking at Shauna, who's hanging onto every word that leaves your mouth. like a moth drawn to a flame.

"She thinks I did it because Gen had an 'alibi' as she says." "Couldn't it have been an animal?" Shauna asks, slightly confused. "That's what I said!" you say impatiently. "But she shut me down which lead to the catfight you just saw."

you plop down on one of the chopped logs glumly, picking at your dirty nails. the perfect bait. she falls for it, hook, line and sinker. Shauna stands over you for a quiet second, stock still, then— "Come to the lake with me."

you look up, surprised at the suggestion. "The lake?" she nods, her pale cheeks flushing an unusual shade of vermillion. she shuffles on the spot, rubbing the back of her neck. "I drew the four today. I'm going to take the bucket downstream, but I need help. We need water for the animal pen too."

you eye her suspiciously. "And how do I know you're not just trying to take me out and shoot me or try to drown me or something?"

she laughs at that, a low, raspy sound that sends tingles down your spine. you're unsure of whether it's in a good way or a 'i should run way'. knowing Shauna for as long as you have, probably the latter.

she leans down your eye level, cupping your face, stroking your cheek. the calloused pad of her thumb traces the scar at the corner of your lip, the one you got from the plane crash.

"Don't worry about that, kitty-cat. You're too interesting to kill just yet."

you snort derisively at the nickname but you don't look away from her, maintaining fierce eye contact. she grins approvingly.

for the next couple of weeks, the cycle continues. Nat pisses you off more and more, pussies out on any dates you planned with her in front of the others, you go running to Shauna's arms, who smugly accepts your clingy affection. this seems to grate on Nat's nerves extraordinarily well, and she drifts apart from you further and further each day, much to Shauna's satisfaction.

you wake up one morning after a particularly explosive argument with Nat, surveyed by an incredibly tired Shauna. she'd stormed off to the woods at sunrise and you'd promptly fallen back asleep, completely unbothered. Shauna stayed with you until you did, stroking your hair. it's too early to ruminate in the miseries of your failing relationship.

as luck would have it, your beauty nap is rudely interrupted by a loud clanging coming from outside. your stick hut is unfortunately not a very good sun filter so you have to blink rapidly a couple of times as you sit up to clear your vision.

you frown as you see that the entire community is already awake and moving about outside, seemingly hard at work. you throw off your drab blanket, quickly changing into something subjectively presentable before trudging outside at a slothish pace.

your jaw drops the second you step out. your previously drab village now looks like the Halloween isle at Target just threw up over it. or well, it would, if all the decorations didn't look like they were made by three year olds. your friends aren't artists, clearly.

streamers, fake cobwebs, orange and purple spiders (did they use berry juice for dye??) are mounted on every hut. at the dinner table, a couple of the girls and Travis are using textbook paper (you had ample of those on hand, given that your school insisted that all students carry their study material to nationals— you thank your lucky stars) to make more spiders, paper pumpkins and just about every other decoration you can think off.

your eyebrows furrow in utter disbelief. Tai shoots you a grimace from where she's making bloodred berry wine, talking in hushed voices with an annoyed Mari, who looks like someone just pissed in her stew.

you scan the site for Shauna and see her out of the corner of your eye— putting fucking devil horns made of her own notebook pages and meticulously coloured in red onto the decapitated head of the necrotic guide.

you make your way to her, weaving through the chattering girls, wondering if you're stuck in a dream. you crash into several people several times which only confirms the reality of your situation.

Shauna looks up as she hears you approaching. she's looking quite pleased with herself, taking a step back, admiring the rather lopsided horns with pride. “Check it out.”, she says eagerly. “I used some of the cellulose from the plants to make glue. Smart, right?”

you cut to the chase immediately. “Shauna, what the fuck is going on?”, you ask. “Why does it look like we're trying to put on a Wilderness rendition of ‘Friday the 13th’?”

she stares at you, as if a bit confused. like you've just asked her why you weren't back home right now. “Halloween.” she says in a tone that clearly has an undercurrent of a sassy ‘duh’ to it.

“Okay, assuming it was even remotely around Halloween time, which it isn't, what's with all the decorations?” you press impatiently. “We're wasting resources.”

she squints her eyes at you, slight concern on her face. “Do you not know what Halloween is? Have you forgotten that much about civiliziation?”

"I know what Halloween is, Shauna." you grumble, rolling your eyes.

"You sure?", she asks, face stretching into a grin as she adjusts the paper horns on the guide's decapitated head. "I could make you a presentation— but no promises that it won't just be several pages of 'The terribly drawn adventures of Count Chocula and Franken Berry.' “

“No, my point is— why now? We've never celebrated— I don't know, Easter or Valentine's day—”

“We celebrated Easter.”

“With berries. And I'm pretty sure they were the poisoned ones. And we only found like— two.”

"It's the thought that counts."

she shrugs. then she turns to look at you. “If you really want to know, I'm doing this because Halloween is your favourite holiday.”

you're taken aback by that statement. you'd expected a ‘just because’ or maybe ‘i decided to join Lottie’s cult and this is a ritual to show our appreciation for the gifts of the wilderness’ (although that theory is quite the stretch). not this surprising display of thoughtfulness from Shauna.

“You're actually thinking about someone that's not yourself?” you say in disbelief, concern leaking into your tone. “Are you gonna sacrifice yourself to the voodoo forest gods or something?”

she huffs, wiping her juice-caked hands on a nearby rag that could've been a handkerchief or animal skin— you've stopped being choosy about two cannibalistic instances back. “Well you don't have to sound so surprised about it.”

“Well, I appreciate the gesture, I really do—” you start off, but she cuts you off impatiently as she chucks the rag onto a passing by Gen. “Trick or treat?”

you stare at her, miffed. “What?”

“Trick or treat?”, she repeats, stepping closer to you.

“Is this a trick question?”

“I don't know. Pick one.”

“Well- well treat, obviously. I don't fancy being jumped or something.” you stammer out, surprised at the abrupt question.

she smirks, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. you jerk back, heat rushing to your cheeks despite your best efforts to control the reactions of your face.

“Good choice.” she says approvingly, starting to walk away.

“Wait! What's my treat?”, you call after her, confused at the mixed signals— the mixed signals being wondering whether she was flirting with you or severely plotting to murder you in your sleep. knowing her, the latter is quite likely.

she turns back and grins at you. “Wait till winter comes!” with that, she struts off, presumably to lord over Mari for fun.

the rest of the evening is…surprisingly fun? you feast on Coach’s remains (rest in pieces) as well as some of the last fruits of the season, talking and laughing.

everyone had a makeshift costume. it was fun to get resourceful, for them, at least. you weren't feeling very creative (when are you ever, really?) so you just put some paper horns on one of Gen’s headbands and passed it off as the devil. Shauna matched you, guiding you far far away from Nat, who had ironically dressed as your opposite— an angel.

you go to sleep hungover and curled up in Shauna's arms, your now official residence. Nat gets her own hut again. just like she always wanted.

the rest of the week counting down to winter pass by in a blur of prepping, piling on clothes and reevaluating your plan, over and over again. you wake up on winter morning, a pit of dread in your stomach, your body cold without Shauna next to you.

you hear the scream— shrill, loud and full of grief. shivers run down your spine and you wince as you pull on your multiple layers of clothing, dashing out of your hut to the animal pen, where Akilah sobs over the corpses of her babies. everyone gathers around her silently, looking down at the sprawl of your only food source, now dead and completely worthless.

it happens so quickly. the decision to hunt. the card drawing. you read them like books.

you pick up your mask— a fox mask. fitting. you grab the nearest weapon— a knife, and charge after poor Mari, wiping your stinging eyes as you do. Shauna is on your tail, marking you closely. something about it reminds you of the last soccer practice you ever had. the same collaboration. being able to predict each other's moves to work in harmony.

when you reach a copse of trees that bends into a fork, you see your opportunity. you turn to Shauna, who's scanning the woods with the precision and intent of a predator, starving for air. god, you are not athletic. “We should split up.” she immediately turns her gaze to you, her eyes wild and fierce. “No.”

it's a simple, one word command. an order to back down. as established before, you're not one to cower before her. you stand your ground.

“We should split up.”, you insist. “We'll have better chances of finding her. I'll reconvene with you at the village when the horn sounds.”

she grips onto your wrist tightly, no doubt leaving marks that will bloom into bruises tomorrow. her eyes lock onto yours. she's trying to psych you out.

but you've been here before— and won. you stare right back. you know you can wait her out. you have no interest in hunting down your friend. she, however, is losing precious hunting time and the annoyance is showing through her body language as the mist from her ragged breathing starts to get denser and denser with each passing second.

she gets off on the thrill. she can't live without it.

finally, she breaks the eye contact, groaning as she flips wisps of her sodden hair out of her macilent face.

she lets go of your wrist, glaring at you like you were the one that killed Jackie. “Fine.”, she spits out. “But if you don't come back to the village immediately after the horn sounds, I'm coming back to find you myself.”

she presses a kiss to your jaw that's more possessive than anything, before taking a left down the trail left by the snow, her boots trampling through the heavy white ground.

you head in the opposite direction at first, taking the right ‘path’, knife held aloft as if ready to strike. the second she's out of sight and you've sufficiently disguised yourself among the trees, you turn back and follow her discretely, keeping your distance.

she prowls through the trees, her footsteps soft on the snow, barely making a sound. her head twitches with the slightest noise, her hand resting protectively on her dagger. her eyes scan the vast landscape, searching, hunting. a wolf.

'run', you find yourself thinking desperately. 'run, Mari'. there's no way she'll survive out here even if she does escape. no food, no water, no warmth. murder is more merciful.

but you hope that if she truly does have to die, it's a mercy killing. that she comes face to face with one of her friends, who'll hold her hand as she bleeds out in their arms, who'll comfort her in the throes of the end of her life.

not Shauna. never Shauna.

you watch as Shauna discovers Mari’s clothes— her coat, her pants, her socks. poor Mari is now freezing cold, stripped down to her unders, running from your pack of wolves— and, you think, as you notice the red droplets on the ground leading away from the discarded rags, bleeding.

Shauna’s face changes from a confused grimace to a callous look of victory, a small smirk twitching at the corner of her lips.

something creeps up on you at that exact moment. a shadow of lingering anger that's always been there. resentment towards her— for everything, basically.

for killing Jackie.

for being enraged at the world for her baby not surviving and then taking it out on everyone.

for twisting her righteous grief into something dark and malicious that manifested in every terrible way possible.

all thoughts of the plan are abandoned as you watch the cantankerous girl trudge through the snow, looking straight ahead— as though she can smell the bloody trail Mari is no doubt still leaving behind. you snap off a branch, thick and heavy, from one of the nearby trees. you're hot with the blinding urge to punish. to make it sting.

she stops dead in her tracks, jerking awkwardly. she can sense something. she's not dumb, far from it. she's always had a sixth sense for these kinds of things— Jackie’s death, the fire, everything.

Shauna stands stock still, perturbed by sudden silence, the air of a foreboding omen lingering around her. you can see her grip on her knife tighten. you watch from behind a tree, eyes locked onto the two, faint red scars on her neck. your markings.

you don't think any longer. you charge her, so fast that she barely has time to blink before you're on her. her knife is once again knocked far far away from her hands, landing somewhere in the snow where you can't be bothered to look for it.

you're back in that position. straddling her waist, pinning her wrist down with your free hand, the other holding something to her throat. only, this time, you don't hesitate.

you press down with the branch, hard. she starts choking. “We've- been here- before…”, she chokes out, but she's smiling. her eyes glint with an emotion akin to pride. “Yeah. We have.” you pant out, furious that she's still able to talk.

she's coughing now. her air column is slowly being cut off, her lungs struggling for life. you can feel it. every single movement of her body underneath you, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her body frantically tries to get her the oxygen she needs.

“Old- habits die— hard, huh?” she chuckles out, but it's weak, pathetic. it lacks any of the caustic nature it usually holds

. you press harder. you've always thought the phrase ‘seeing red’ was a poorly described metaphor for being a total cornball— you think you know what that feels like now.

the grin on her face is fucking infuriating. with each pass of your eyes over her ecstatic face, the press of the branch against her throat becomes tighter.

you're vaguely aware of the horn sounding in the distance. you don't care. Mari is dead. if not her then another one of your friends. just another reason to kill her.

her face is turning blue now. her eyes flash with just the slightest hint of fear when she realises— you aren't stopping.

you don't intend to either. you want her gone. you want to feel her squirm and gasp for air under you, like poor Javi. like Mari. like everyone she ever left for the dead. to feel her pulse slow down, to see those earthy eyes glaze over as they stop seeing your enraged face, to see her stop feeling.

she's staring to panic now. her knife hand, which was previously holding onto the branch, pulling it closer, now struggles against the force you're using.

“Y-you know this isn't gonna do anything f-for you, right?” she wheezes out, hands scrabbling uselessly at the back of your own.

you count down the seconds till she stops breathing. the end is inexorable for her now. 10…9…8….

“She's already- already d-dead…”

her voice is getting weaker now, just a little above a hoarse whisper. 7….6…..5..

“You- you're just so…..fascinating…a-aren’t you?”

any second now, she'll die. you'll never have to deal with her again. 4…..3…2… almost...almost...—

“You're jus-just like me…for this…y'know that?”

with that, she pulls you down into a kiss, breathing her last breaths into your mouth as you gasp into it.

fucking hell. fuck. fuck fuck fuck. of all the bullshit in the world, that's what stops you.

you immediately yank your mouth away from hers, her freezing cold lips slowly turning pink from the warmth of the kiss.

you pull the branch away from her throat, just slightly. she immediately gasps for air, letting it fill her parched lungs again.

she smiles weakly at you, her face completely drained of its vivid colour. infuriating. you feel like giving up all morals and just throttling her.

instead, you roll off of her, throwing aside your branch. you both sit up, panting for completely different reasons. you look over at her from the corner of your eye as you rub the blisters starting to form on your palms.

her cheeks are now flushed red, her eyes sparkling in a way that you've only see them do when she was around Jackie. she's smiling uncontrollably, like a teenage girl with a puppy crush— which is, in hindsight, exactly what she is.

only, you aren't sure any other teenage girl with a crush in the outside world would be grinning like a lovesick fool after nearly getting strangled to death by the receiver of their affections.

“You're a sick fuck.” you spit out, rage making your voice shake. “I'll never be anything like you.”

Shauna grins at you cheekily, winking as she presses her palm gently against her sore, reddened throat. “You're right. You aren't anything like me. I would've gone for the kill, kitty-cat.”

you get up and stalk off, moving with as much agility as you can, your feet finding purchase in the snow. you don't have to look to know she's right on your heels. you wouldn't be surprised if she was skipping after you at this point. you don't turn to confirm your suspicions.

you find the other girls hovering over a pit in the ground. the lump in your throat is back as you survey the scene. Mari lies in pieces, impaled on spikes, in just her grimy, once white, tunic, her body completely stained in blood.

you wipe the stray tear that slips down your cheek, holding back the torrent of sobs that are stuck in your throat.

Mari, who was so excited to get back home and return to the land of creature comforts.

Mari, who saved Melissa when the guide shot her and had nursed her through the night, despite her clear dislike for her.

Mari, who had been cooking for all of you from day one, who secretly snuck you a couple extra rations when she noticed that you looked particularly malnourished.

Shauna steps up next to you, not half as emotional as you are. she examines Mari’s mangled corpse with the cold detachment that makes you shudder and want to slap some emotions, anything into her.

“Get her out of there.” she orders no one in particular, but the rest scramble to oblige anyway. you don't.

you watch, numb, as Gen and Melissa pull Mari out, letting Robin tie the knot on her leg to drag her along. you hear quite sniffles from beside you and turn to see Van, who looks about as devastated as you feel.

wordlessly, you hold out your arms to her for a hug. she accepts, trembling in your arms, warm tears dripping down your neck and soaking your shirt. you don't care, because you're crying too.

minutes later, Gen is leading the group back to the village as the designated navigator, the others in tow, dragging Mari’s corpse along and leaving a path in her blood.

you hang back at the very end of the group, walking slow, like a fly in amber. Lottie brings up the rear end, quiet as a mouse.

Shauna walks next to you, choosing not to comment on your languished pace, or on the tears streaming down your face that you hastily wipe away.

she rubs at the redness around her neck as she walks, hissing quietly under her breath from the friction burn. you silently take off your silk scarf and tie it around her neck. she thanks you. you, obviously, don't respond.

it's only after a few minutes of silent walking that the quiet becomes unbearable and you pipe up in a hoarse voice, “I'm sorry.”

Shauna chuckles dryly, turning her head to look at you, her steps becoming more like a strut. “No you're not.”

“No.” you agree. “I'm not.”

“The only regret I have is not finishing the job.”, you state flatly. She snickers. "As you should."

if Lottie finds this interaction odd, she doesn't let it be known. she's probably too busy foreseeing the divine future or whatever the fuck anyway. you wonder if she'd be able to foresee you poisoning her drink before it invetiably happens.

the unbearable silence stretches thick between the two of you again. you try to maintain that, but the urge to speak your mind is just as insufferable as the silence.

“It didn't have to be this way.” you grit out. “The hunt, I mean.”

Shauna turns to you again, flashing you those wide brown eyes that purport a sense of innocence that she definitely does not have.

“Oh but sweetie, it's what the wilderness wanted.” she turns her head around to Lottie, who's perked up at the mention of her god. “Isn't that right, Lottie?”

Lottie nods slowly, but it's clear that her mind is far, far away. “Yes. It's what It wills. It had to happen—”

"Oh can it, Lottie." you snap at her. she immediately defers, silently drifting back into her own thoughts.

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms tightly. “Bullshit. You don't even have faith in that.”

Shauna shrugs. “Who knows. Maybe I'm changing my ways.”

“I don't believe that for a second.”, you reply immediately.

“Then you know me pretty damn well.”

“And the hunt had to happen.” Shauna continues without a hint of remorse. her voice rises, but the others in front of you don't react. not a twitch, nothing. you suppose they don't want to be next.

“It's crucial to our survival.”

you narrow your eyes at that, your tone zealous. “And we couldn't have gone— I don't know, berry hunting?”

Shauna simply shakes her head, taking off her hat— Javi’s hat. “No. Death is essential to this place. We need to feed It blood. And she would've died anyway. She wasn't strong enough to survive out here. Natural selection works the way it's supposed to you.”

you stop in your tracks, gawking at her. she stops you, calmly mirroring your movements.

“What the hell are you even saying?” you ask, trying to hide the consternation coursing through every fibre of your being, every vein pulsing in your body, ever muscle stretched taut.

“You tell me. Does a hunt that has no violence feed anyone?”

the unsettling tone in which she said it, a cold statement utterly lacking human compassion, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up and causes your skin to prickle in a way that has you frantically rubbing at it through the bulky fabric of your clothes.

if you found it unsettling, Lottie must've thought she was in a living nightmare. you hear a small gasp behind you and turn just in time to see the tall, slender girl crumple into a heap on the forest floor, her mouth gaping wide open.

“Lottie!” you rush to her side, dropping to your knees and she stirs, completely and utterly dazed. you pull her head onto your lap as Shauna stares at the two of you in complete disdain.

“I'm- I'm fine…”, Lottie tries to tell you, but her tattered voice tells you better.

you start to fan her as the others get ahead. Shauna just shrugs. “Keep up.” she walks off to join the others without looking back.

you flip off her back and help Lottie get back on her feet. she stares after Shauna’s retreating figure almost reverently, before turning to you and giving you the sweetest smile you've ever seen from her.

it unsettles you immediately, and also makes you feel small— like she's a pre-school teacher watching you stumble over your ABCs. you silently help her to her feet and keep her balanced by letting her lean on your side.

the only sound for the rest of the trek is the quiet crunching of branches under shoes that ring out like gunshots in the silence.

they string her up by her feet like she's some fox they shot. not one of your friends, one of you.

it's all on Shauna's orders, of course, but that doesn't mean that you don't feel sick to your stomach when you see Mari’s glazed over eyes staring at nothing, a gaping hole in her cheek, her dark hair shrouding her face like a veil.

Shauna pulls out her knife, surveying the group for a victim, someone to fill her previous shoes. your stomach drops as her eyes lock onto you.

she glides towards you, a small smile on her face. she kisses your forehead lovingly and then pushes you out of her way, holding out the knife to the trembling girl in the pink hood.

“Natalie. Please, do the honours.” Shauna drops the knife into her trembling hands, and she grips onto it like a vice, turning it over unsteadily in her hands.

“The Wilderness has made its choice clear.” Shauna announces to the group. she scans them, waiting for any objection. none comes. Shauna turns back to the girl, her eyes gleaming with arrogance. “Prepare her for tonight. And when it's done, bring me her hair.”

you can't stand it. the girl's dark eyes look up to meet yours, terrified and shadowed by black powder. you choke down your fear, taking a firm step forward. “I'll help her.”

Shauna turns her head to you sharply and for a second, an uneasy sensation creeps down your spine. but then she smiles, shaking her head. “No. You're coming with me.”

she doesn't give you time to argue, taking your hand in hers. she bends down, brushing her cool lips over the back of your hand. “C’mon.”

before you can squabble with her on the matter, she starts pulling you behind her, making her way to the little alcove right behind your village. Lottie follows behind silently, her eyes locked onto the back of your head.

the others retreat into their huts, ready to wash the blood off their hands to get ready for the feast tonight.

you try to speak multiple times, but she hushes you each time. finally, as you dig your heels into the (literal) muck and refuse to move, she sighs deeply. “You're finally getting your treat, kitty-cat. Try to show some more excitement, yeah?”

your treat? as in, from Halloween, a million years ago?

you're about to grill her for more details when she finally pulls you into the alcove trove and effectively gags you.

in front of you is a chopped tree log, one of the more common pieces of furniture around these parts. but what makes your jaw drop is what sits atop the log.

a gorgeous crown of roses rests on the log. a variety of shades of reds and whites threaded together into a single crown, tailored to fit your head exactly.

it somehow sparkles, the setting sun light reflected off each frail petal, fluttering in the breeze.

the delicate scent tickles your nostrils, a considerable improvement from what your poor nose has gotten used to smelling in all the time you've been here.

the cherry on top is what's attached to them. gorgeous white antlers— a hind’s, perhaps, have been attached to the stalks tying the roses together. they've been meticulously polished until they shine and have flowers draped over them, crocheted together by fine twine.

you stare in awe, shocked speechless. as horrifying as it is to be stuck in the woods, you'll admit that there's been no shortage of beauty when the landscape is concerned.

somehow, Shauna has managed to craft something— or gotten someone else to craft something, let's be real, so incredibly stunning that it takes your breath away.

you turn your head to Shauna, your eyes wide— and sparkling, you're sure. she has the widest, goofiest grin you've ever seen on someone set on her face, her own shining eyes gleaming with pride. you've never seen her look as happy when it's not a hunt.

“Holy shit….” you stutter out, breathless.

“You like?” she asks the obvious as you turn back to admire the crown, slinging herself over your back, tucking her chin onto your shoulder.

“Yes- yes- I- is this for…me?”, you ask almost petulantly, picking up the crown with an almost childlike wonder, turning it over.

“It will be. On one condition.”

you almost drop the crown at that, but you catch it just in time and set it down carefully, turning back to face her. her arms are looped around your waist and she shuffles you backwards till the back of your legs hit the log.

your mood immediately sours, eyes narrowing. “Oh, of course. I should've known. What's the catch?”

Shauna turns her head to look over her shoulder at Lottie, who you nearly forgot existed in your admiration for the crown.

she's leaning against the doorway calmly, apparently watching you in a way you're sure she thinks is serene. you think she's a peeping Tom.

she nods encouragingly at Shauna, who turns back to you giddily, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Well…I'm queen now. Of our village, I mean.” she adds as you raise your eyebrows. “And like all good queens, I need a consort. Someone to look pretty and rule by my side.”

she takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with her own slim ones, resting her forehead against yours. “I've been waiting for weeks to do this. I think it's fair to say your relationship with Natalie is old history.”

you spare her a noncommital grunt of acknowledgement, your heart giving a meek twang at her words.

“So I want you to be mine. You're perfect for me. We're perfect for each other…. And the others— they love you like they don't love me. I need them to listen.”

“So I'm essentially your P.R. marriage?”

“No.” she shakes her head. “I need you.” she rests her forehead against yours, inhaling your natural scent, unbothered by the musk.

Lottie pipes up, ruining the intimate moment completely, as she has done several times before. blue baller.

“And besides, it's what the wilderness wills.” she finally steps into the alcove. the sun lights up the back of her head, almost like it's giving her a halo. huh. maybe there is some truth to the whole ‘lottie is jesus’ rumour spreading around camp (by one, Marianna Sofia Ibarra, of course.)

her eyes display her excitement even as her voice stays even and steady. “Your marriage will be beneficial to our survival. I can see it.”

you hear a record scratch and immediately put a little distance between you and Shauna.

“Woah, woah. Hit the brakes. Let's circle back to that. Marriage?”

Shauna shrugs, pulling you back into her as she smiles again. “How else are you gonna be the crown princess?”

“Aren't- aren't we a little young for that?”, you peep feebly, melting into her touch despite yourself. you've been starved for affection since you moved out of Nat’s hut and for some reason, Shauna’s lavish love is like a drug— intoxicating and addicting.

“We're both 18. And I think we've lost all sense of societal norms long ago.” Shauna says pensively, peering into your eyes. “I'm serious. Marry me. I want you by my side.”

you look at her, then Lottie, then at the crown. then you chew your bottom lip and exhale deeply, making your final decision. sometimes, you have to take one for the team. and sometimes, that phrase means marrying a gorgeous, severely mentally ill teenage girl.

you nose your way into her neck, inhaling her scent. thankfully, Akilah had also learned how to make natural perfumes a while back. it was a purely accidental but welcome incident. it wasn't nearly enough to cover the long term stench seeping through your pores, from your very being, but it did its job well enough.

“Fine then. I'll be your wife.” you submit quietly.

Shauna lets out a sharp bark of a laugh as she accepts your hug, clinging onto your clothes, nails digging into your bag. such a dog…

and that's how you end up here. you're sitting across from Shauna, a little ways away from the campfire the others have started. Lottie sits in between you two, a torch in between the three of you illuminating her face.

you're dressed in clothes almost identical to Shauna’s. your robe is a little shorter, but loose and comfortable. Mari’s hair dangles from various folds of hers. her crown of antlers sit next to hers. she intends to put them on during the feast.

yours, meanwhile, is already on your head. heavy is the head that wears the crown— and boy was this damn crown heavy. the things you do to look like a good monarch…

Shauna is eerily silent. apparently, Lottie had offered to officiate your impromptu wedding, given that she was the voice of the Wilderness or whatever other title she's being called by at this point in time.

Lottie snaps you out of your thoughts as she picks up two cans of steaming hot tea, and passes them to you two.

you take a cautious sniff and wince. it's strong and saccharine smelling— not at all the scent of the meager tea you usually make.

Shauna, meanwhile, downs the entire cup in one go like she's taking a shot, without any hesitation.

“Is there something in this?”, you ask Lottie, who's closed her eyes like she's trying to gather her thoughts, cautiously.

both Lottie and Shauna turn their heads to you like you just committed blasphemy.

you bristle, scoffing defensively. “What?”

“Sweetie.” Shauna's tone is warning and she tilts her head at you just slightly. an order to shut your trap. “Drink.”

you bite your bottom lip to prevent the protest that was about to leave your mouth, instead downing the sweet drink without any further comments. there's no point in losing your motivation after you've nearly reached the finish line. Lottie hums approvingly.

you set the cup down on a nearby stick, watching it wobble precariously before predictably toppling over. neither Shauna nor Lottie seem to notice. or if they do, they don't care, they're quite preoccupied at the moment.

“Hold out your palms, please.” Lottie says in a soft tone that makes you feel like you're trying to summon a demon at an occult club meeting.

you do as she says and she places the back of your hand on top of Shauna, who loops her fingers through yours, squeezing encouragingly. she starts chanting something in French that you can't be bothered to rack your brains to translate.

your mind is just flashing with thoughts like ‘this is stupid’ when the tea hits. your world turns upside down while your posture is still erect and things start blurring in and out of vision. the flames of the torch start dancing, burning high and bright, reflecting Shauna’s glowing face in them.

okay then. so that tea was definitely spiked.

you're brought out of your haze when a sharp, stinging pain runs across your palm. you let out a quiet yelp of pain as your eyes struggle to focus on your hand. you register red. oh. you're bleeding.

Shauna is bleeding from her palm too. unlike you, she didn't make any dying animal noises, instead sitting still as a statue, patiently awaiting the next set of instructions from Lottie.

Lottie picks up your paln, pressing it down on Shauna’s wound. you stifle another yelp of pain, watching as your blood mingles with Shauna’s, dripping out onto the pale white snow.

you're sure there's something poetic to be said about this scene. you're too busy reeling from being drugged to think about haikus and limericks.

you wonder how you understand the French that Lottie is spouting suddenly and then realise that she's switched back to English. you squint your eyes to take a gander at Shauna and catch her eye. her eyes are hooded and her jaw is slack. she's just as high as you are.

“...and hence drink her blood, so that you may be bound to each other by the grace of the wilderness.” Lottie says breathlessly.

your body somehow moves on autopilot, knowing what is wanted of you. you raise your palm sluggishly to Shauna’s lips. she catches your wrist, pressing her mouth to your blood-soaked palm.

she licks a long stripe across the length of your cut, blood dribbling down her chin.

you swallow harshly as she lets out a low groan at the taste of your blood before dropping your hand. she makes no move to wipe the remaining blood from her mouth.

then, she returns the favour. she presses her palm to your lips. your tongue swipes at the cut experimentally. a tangy, metallic taste bursts on your tongue, making you drool.

that's probably the iron deficiency talking, you think slowly, struggling to comprehend— well, anything, really. it's like trying to talk when your face is stuffed full of marshmallows.

Shauna watches, entranced, as you slowly lap up her blood, some of the warm liquid splattering on the front of your robes. the hunger in her eyes grows as she does.

she hasn't eaten since morning, the small part of your brain that's yet to be infected by the drugged tea reasons. that's not what she's hungry for, replies the other.

finally, she drops her palm after extricating it from your grip— you had unconsciously been holding it to your face with both hands, and you stare at each other, riveted by the bloody, messy sight of other.

she has somehow never looked better than she does now, mouth covered in blood, earthen eyes locked onto yours, dark hair whipping about loosely in the wind. the earth moves on without you. you're trapped here, lost in her, dead to the world.

Lottie's chanting in French again. you squirm, feeling antsy, hungry. hungry for her, your brain supplies helpfully.

thankfully, she seems to be just as affected by this weird...mating ritual thing, as you are. her bleeding hand scrunches up snow and then lets it goz over and over again, till it looks like a bunny massacre has taken place at that particular spot.

finally, finally, Lottie switches back to English, delivering the words you've been waiting, dying to hear.

“By the power vested in me by the wilderness, you may now kiss your bride.”

this time, when Shauna leans forward and captures your blood stained lips in hers, a messy, open mouthed kiss, you respond back just as hungrily, desperately gripping the front of her robe to ground yourself as you do. you taste the tea on her tongue and can't help but smile against her lips.

she pulls back from you, albeit reluctantly. she rubs your cheek soothingly as a small whine leaves you, her other hand finding yours. she turns to look at Lottie, who's staring at her reverently again.

“Come. We have a feast to attend.”

Shauna stands up first, somehow not faltering even a little, her back completely rigid. she takes your hand in hers tepidly, getting you up on your feet.

you aren't as elegant as she is, stumbling forward, but she catches you with a casual ease— like she's been doing this all her life. it certainly feels like you've been hers all yours.

Lottie gets up last, holding the torch. she nods at you two and starts ahead, leading the path to the burning campfire, where Mari’s body is being prepared.

you're too high to remember the semantics of the night. the only thing you remember is being seated next to your wife, her hand looped in yours, her veil over her head, her antlers protruding through like the queen she was born to be, your subjects seated around you as they feasted on the body of your fallen comrade.

you fall asleep sometime during the feast. clearly, Shauna had ordered the others to not wake you, since when you wake up, you find that your head is her lap, sleeping in till the wee hours of the morning. the girls are clearing up the remains of the feast.

Shauna smiles down softly at you as you stir. she leans down and kisses you softly before pulling away. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

you tense up just slightly before relaxing again. without the influence of drugs clouding your thoughts, you finally remember your aim again.

you roll over, forcing your body into a seated position, rubbing your eyes. “Mm. Don't tease your wife now.”

she laughs, a melodious sound that is completely uncharacteristic coming from her, but so natural too.

she once again holds onto your hand as you head back into the village, quietly looking at the rest of your friends. her grip is almost possessive now. you are hers now, you suppose.

you know what she's gonna do before she actually does it. she spots a familiar pink hood walking back to their hut and your eyes follow her line of sight just seconds too late. it doesn't even really matter.

she struts over confidently, spinning the girl around with the pride of a peacock before you can think to stop her.

your brain is still trying to recover from the after effects of being high out of your damn mind. your body feels light as a feather— but for a completely different reason.

you can't hear what Shauna’s saying, you make no move to either. you instead watch with vivid satisfaction as she taunts her to no avail, pulling her hood down to reveal Hannah.

she stumbles back in shock, her eyes wide and furious as her brain slowly processes what's going on. you can practically hear the cogs turning in her head.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS NATALIE?!” she screams as she whirls around to face the village, her voice shaking with anger and a touch of fear. perfect. just the way you like her.

the others emerge from their huts one by one— Tai, Van, Gen, Melissa, Travis— everyone. they all stare at her with a mixture of satisfaction and revulsion, refusing any explanations. they don't have to explain. the looks on their faces are telling enough.

her eyes lock onto you and then widen in betrayal. she knows that you had a role to play in this. about damn time that she realised.

“Shauna likes power. She won't jump in to save anyone— but she feels a claim over things that aren't hers.” Misty explains to you, her glasses making her eyes gleam in reflection of the torchlight.

or perhaps that's how she always looks. you're quite scared of her sometimes. “You need to weaponize that against her.”

you slowly start walking towards your ‘wife’, unable to resist the urge to deliver a villain monologue.

“You know, I thought you were smarter than that.” you start off wrly, smirking at her as you near her. “I thought you would've caught on immediately. It's why I was just the slightest bit hesitant of the plan at first.”

you lay your head on Nat’s lap, fiddling with the rough strands of blonde hair that's starting to fizz out as her roots show more and more. “And, you're sure you're fine with this?” you ask again, unable to hide the concern in your tone.

Nat laughs— a throaty, rough sound as her hands cup your upside down face, squishing. “Well, in normal circumstances, I would've ripped her fucking eyes out with that godamn knife of hers for even looking at you..”

she trails off to general giggles before continuing, “— but this is different. We- we actually have a chance. Of leaving this shit hole. Of getting home. And besides, I trust you.”

she leans down and kisses you— a tender, warm thing that fills your stomach with butterflies, like it always does. “So yeah. Fuck her if you need to. I know you'll always be mine anyway.”

“But I was pleasantly surprised when you let your guard down so easy. You really do have it bad for me, huh?”

you would've felt the slightest twinge of remorse for the hurt flashing in your eyes, did you not fiercely remind yourself that she was the reason you weren't cozied up with Natalie under a heated blanket right now.

you reach up for her face, stroking the gaunt lines of her cheekbones as you force her to look at you. “It's too late to clip her wings now. You can't stop her. She's been long gone.”

you practically beam at the shattered look in her doe-like eyes, relishing in her shock as you remember all the times she's done the same to the others. you deliver the final blow— a death by a thousand cuts.

"You've grown quite predictable. I knew you'd turn out to be boring."

you press your lips to hers, humming as she stays stiff against you. then, your teeth graze the soft, plump flesh of her lips— and you bite down. hard.

she gasps, yanking herself away from you even as she starts to bleed, the red dripping down her chin and trickling into her robes.

you smile sadistically, squeezing her face with one hand to draw more blood. she hisses, drawing away from your touch like you've burned her. you roll your eyes. always the drama queen.

her eyes scan your face, looking for any hint of regret for doing this to her. she finds nothing.

you lick a droplet of her metallic blood from the corner of your mouth, swiping the rest off with your thumb.

then, you shoot her a sultry grin. just to dig the knife in a little deeper.

“Trick or treat, motherfucker.”

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a/n: I tried to shorten it but it didn't work— whatever ig. you get a long fic now ! yayayayay— also, this once again had a lot more shauna x reader than nat, that's mb yall

reminder that requests are open for all the Yellowjackets girls, dead or alive!

taglist: @jigglypufflashton

[keepingitformyself]

i’m so obsessed with the idea that “god” doesn’t hold much power over the girls in the wilderness. when hannah swears to god and shauna brushes it off. “that means nothing out here.” i think that’s such a clever line that holds so much weight. the wilderness is the god that rules. the wilderness is its own seperate code they’ve chosen to live by. they’ve had to challenge taboos for the sake of survival. they’ve had to compromise and reshape structures just to have more order in the chaos. all things that couldn’t be bended in civilized soceity. no modern gods, no modern government, no more rule books to abide by. everything that existed outside of the wilderness can’t exist in it.

[keepingitformyself]

watching an actors film discography sometimes really is an act of love cus i just watched status update for courtney eaton and that movie was so agonizingly corny i got goosebumps 💔