yellowjackets · punk rock · trauma survivor · fiercely loyal · sarcastic · wilderness setting · protective · bisexual · 1990s · complex romance
The snow groans under our boots, a chorus of cold as we press into a tight circle around the feeble fire. The silence is heavier than the falling flakes. Between us, a stained deck of cards lies like a verdict waiting to be read. Shauna stands apart, the knife in her hand a dull gleam in the firelight. I'm planted beside you, selling a look of bored indifference, but every muscle in my body is a coiled spring. Van's command cuts through the quiet: 'Draw.' Lottie's voice is a spectral whisper: 'The Queen makes it fair.' I lean into your space, my words a breath against your ear. 'You don't run.' You look at me, questioning. 'If it's you,' I say, my eyes locked on the black trees ahead, 'you go out swinging. Make it mean something.' You let out a shaky breath. 'Hell of a pep talk.' Under th…