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bittersuitejacobs · 4 months ago

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• an unhealthy obsession • Nate Jacobs •

three. knignt in shining armour

Summary: In which Ophelia is making friends with the right people in order to finally get the attention she's been craving from the person she wants. She ends up getting much more than she'd anticipated.

Warnings: heavy drinking, implied obsessive behaviour, manipulative behaviour.

A/N: 5022 words. here this is. It's crazy how much i write about this fic/these characters compared to how little I've published. Anyways here's a fun headcanon I have; Nate's favourite Saw movie is Saw 3D, but it will change to Spiral after Spiral comes out. Ophelia's is Saw 6 because her favourite trap is the shotgun carousel. Neither of them care for any of the Child's Play movies. 😌 This has no relevance on the plot of the fic, just a fun fact. lov u.

{ masterpost }

THE TAGLIST IS ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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More eyes are upon her now, but she's so used to keeping her head down. It's an urge she has to temper, despite how strange it is to stand out, she's dressing the part, she fights the habit she has of making herself blend into the background.

Ophelia has to get comfortable of making a spectacle of herself, at least until the right eyes are upon her.

And what better place to be loud than in a sea of people all cheering along?

This is where she allows herself to be loud. The cheering is done at the top of her lungs, even - especially - for the cheerleaders.

"Yeah Cassie! Yeah the girls!" She hollers with glee and a wide, unabashed smile. Cassie, in formation, wears a pleased little smile, eyes searching the crowd for the source of support. Upon seeing Ophelia's grin, Ophelia's eyes trained on her, her grin widens. Ophelia sees the cheerleaders aren't the only ones who noticed. Nate, who'd been talking to the coach of the football team - his dad, Cal, if Ophelia wasn't mistaken - while the rest were warming up on the field, pauses, and looks at her for a long moment. Ophelia catches it in her peripheries as she continues to cheer and clap for the cheerleading team. She pretends she doesn't see him. But her heart leaps at the thought that he'd noticed her amongst the crowd.

That following Monday at school, Cassie once again recognises her at lunch where she's sitting with Lexi, Rue, and Jules. Rue and Jules are caught up in conversation between themselves, but Maddie gives Ophelia a curious look. Cassie's stopped beside her to talk to her and Lexi. She invites Ophelia to hang out after the next game - so long as the team wins. However, smug smile on her face, Maddie assures her that with Nate - her boyfriend again after their recent break - as quarterback, they surely would.

Ophelia rolls her skirt in the bathroom before her next class, shortening the hem by another inch and a half before algebra. Nate looks bored in the back of the classroom when she swans in before the bell rings. Until he recognises her. She pretends not to see him, and sits, as usual, at the front of the class by the window. Tucking her pen behind her ear, she spends these few moments looking engrossed in her phone. His eyes burn into her; she can feel it. He's at the back of the room, same row as her. When she looks around, pretends to be searching for something, their eyes meet. A sunny but otherwise blank smile graces her features, but her gaze quickly moves on, fixing on a poster on the back wall. The signifier of a pleasant disposition, but also indicating that she didn't really think about him, or know him. The kind of smile a cheerful individual would give a stranger.

Nate didn't look away. Nate frowns, but it's not unkind, it's more... Thoughtful. Nate watches her.

Ophelia has caught his eye.

Ophelia starts giving Maddie and Cassie smiles wherever they see each other, always with a warmth and sincerity that indicated familiarity. Cassie gives a proper introduction after cheerleading practice walking home together. Ophelia lies and says Cassie's house is on the way to hers when it decidedly isn't, but she'd been at this practice for this specific reason. She wants to know Maddie better, wants to be closer. Most importantly, she needs to put herself in Nate's orbit. So she admits she uses the cheerleaders for figure practice, shows a few select pieces, and Maddie and Cassie take her compliments exactly as she'd hoped.

They want her around, and she's more than happy to oblige.

Often Ophelia sees Nate in passing when she's with Maddie - they're on right now in their on-again-off-again thing. He doesn't stay long, and he never really talks to her, but maybe that's because every time he's around Cassie makes a point of ignoring Nate in favour of Ophelia. Like she's using her as a social buffer, a shield so she doesn't have to think about the quietly disdainful or leering looks Nate gives her. Even Ophelia notices, but she also knows Nate doesn't look at her like that. But he does look at her, even if she never meets his gaze if she can help it. She's done watching. She likes being watched now.

She makes sure she gives him something pretty to look at.

Her skirts are always pastel, and she's shortened them. She's invested in thigh-high socks and the kind of mascara that could withstand a hurricane. Her sweaters always match her skirt but in a rich, jewel-toned version of the colour that's desaturated on her lower half. Small backpack, blue binder for her notes, she carries all her books for the day in her arms, stacked on top of her binder. They make her seem smaller than she is - quite the feat considering her petite frame. But her sweater and the silk, floral button-down shirts beneath cling delicately to the ample chest her mother blessed her with and cursed her for.

Ophelia knows how to make herself and object of desire if she so chooses to.

And now, she most certainly is choosing to.

Cassie fawns over her wardrobe and doll-like features and heart shaped face. Rue gently mocks this friendship, but Jules calls it sweet. Says Ophelia's style is so cute, so sweet, so - she gets a text and checks it giddily. Rue and Ophelia share an exasperated look; Jules' phone has been interrupting them a lot lately.

The next football game she attends, she makes sure she's in the front row of the stands. The scrunchies in her pigtails are in the school's colours, and she opts for pale, blue denim short-shorts over black leggings and a cream, silk button-down with little, lilac flowers on. The dark blue denim jacket she'd pulled out of one of her father's boxes in the attic absolutely dwarfs her; the sleeves almost swallow her hands, so when she cheers and claps, she looks so small yet so bright. Jules tells her she looks cute. Rue had said she'd rather die than go to the game when Ophelia had invited her along too.

Cassie gives a playful wink to her in the front row as the cheerleaders join the field, and Maddie even gives her a wave. The cheerleaders are there, warming up the crowd, in preparation for the teams. Jules mutters that Nate is an asshole when she catches him looking over at them. Ophelia knows he's been glancing over at them since he'd been on the field, but this is the first time Jules's actually noticed. Ophelia let's herself properly look at him, lets him see her giving him her attention. He looks away swiftly. Ophelia asks idly how she knows him. Jules's expression pinches at the question before she admits that he's the drunk asshole who threatened her at McKay's party the other week.

Ophelia looks to her, eyebrows raised. Knowing what she does of Nate, she's not exactly surprised, but she is curious. What had set him off? Jules doesn't seem to know either, but she has her theories, she tells Ophelia with a scowl.

"But I also feel like he's the kind of guy who would go off for no reason," Jules muses, looking back out to the field, "Rue says he's always been a dick." Ophelia looks back onto the field, considering this new and unfortunate information. Nate is warming up with the rest of his team, no longer paying them any attention.

"I don't know much about him, honestly," Ophelia lies, voice soft and contemplative, "I've never really paid him any attention."

It's easier to compartmentalize this new information and enjoy the night rather than dwell on it. Jules is good company, and as soon as she feels Ophelia's energy, she matches it. They both cheer at the top of their lungs, beaming, and Jules laughs when she admits that she doesn't think she'd care at all about any of this if she wasn't swept up in the hype alongside the rest of the crowd and Ophelia.

But when their team wins, and Ophelia asks is Jules wants to come to the celebration Cassie had invited her to, she can't deny quick enough. There's no way she'd be caught dead near a drunk, victorious Nate Jacobs if she can help it. While Ophelia pouts, but ultimately tells her she understands, and that she hopes Jules gets home safe, she's ultimately glad. She has a feeling that things could get complicated with Jules around.

So Cassie, Ophelia, and Maddie get a ride with one of the other cheerleaders to whichever footballer's house was being celebrated at tonight. Maddie scoffs that even if they won, that didn't mean anything for her and Nate. Ophelia remains quiet, observant, cataloguing all these interactions for future reference.

Maddie and Nate are in one of their off periods apparently. Why, Ophelia isn't sure, but she doesn't look this gift horse in the mouth; she's just glad that complication is already resolved before her night really begins.

This party is like so many she'd attended before, but now she's by the side of these girls who garnered the spotlight. Now people were looking at her like she belonged there with them. Still, she played the role of the wallflower forced to bare their stares. The others talk to their classmates, and Ophelia slips into the crowd the moment she gets the chance. Ducking and weaving through the crowd, she makes sure Nate sees her without letting him know that she'd seen him, avoiding him in the heart of the noise and revelry. In the kitchen, she gets herself a cider and pointedly ducks past him as he was entering the room, like the whole affair was overwhelming enough that she hasn't even realised it was him. He calls out pointedly - hey - in a way to try and catch her attention, but it's not her name, so she's got enough plausible deniability.

Somewhere in the middle there she takes off her jacket and pulls the scrunchies from her hair; at a glance, or from behind, she doesn't look like the girl who arrived at the party earlier in the night.

Finally she sets herself up on the back porch, after spending a good half an hour bouncing between the edge of the dancing inside and the kitchen, doing her best to avoid Nate or Cassie or Maddie while pretending not to. Sitting on the railing, on her fourth drink, she's watching several footballers trying to start a bonfire. Smoking a cigarette, she waits, but didn't have to wait long. Nate drinks and gets high on occasion, she knows this, has seen him do so at several other parties where he'd never even been aware of her existence or attendance. But he doesn't smoke. It's Ophelia's only other vice. She hopes it doesn't put him off of her, but for now she's willing to take that chance. She'd consider quitting for him, but not before they'd even had a conversation.

Ankles crossed, she catches Nate leaving the back door in her peripheries, passing her without even registering her on the way to the others by the bonfire. There's a frustrated energy to him, despite the brightness with which he greets his friends. She thinks she hears someone laugh about 'Maddie being a bitch again' a few minutes after they finally get the fire going, and Nate rolls his eyes, taking another sip of his drink. Ah, mystery solved. Dropping her ashen cigarette butt into the garden below, she takes another sip of her drink.

Nate is distracted. Watching him is so familiar it's almost comforting, and though she knows she's been refraining as part of her plan, there's a relief that comes with it. Like the nicotine in her lungs, being around Nate makes her head spin, and she'd missed that feeling. His friends barely notice that he's more frustrated than usual, but Ophelia does.

And then he sees her. This time, she doesn't immediately avert her gaze. For a beat, he frowns, but there's a curiosity in his eyes as he finally registers her, and in the next moment, Ophelia looks down, opening up her little purse and pulling out another cigarette. Holding her cider secure between her knees, she keeps her focus on the task at hand, clicking her lighter to life. When she raises her head, he's still watching her. Only when she raises her eyebrows at him in amusement does he look away.

It couldn't be nothing, just a singular, fleeting moment. But she feels like it's not.

Still, she doesn't approach him. She wants him to be the one to cross the space between them, to prove all her effort hadn't been in vain.

Instead, she pulls out her phone and checks her Instagram DMs. People are loving her latest painting on her story, a rather twisted, almost eldritch version of a character from a horror web series she adored, covered in blood. Even though most people didn't know who he was, they appreciated the artistry. Getting caught up talking to her father about his day - he's in Munich for Oktoberfest - she actually doesn't notice that she has company until they ask what she's drinking. Ophelia gives a start, but then there's a hand on her shoulders steadying her before she can fall. When Ophelia looks up, it's Nate.

"What?" She's actually caught off guard, and has no idea what he asked. He asks her again with an amused grin, and Ophelia notes that he seems far less irrate than before, "cider," but when she pick up her bottle, she realises it's empty.

"You want another?"

"Sure," she says slowly; her confusion is genuine, but so is her gratefulness. He takes her empty bottle too, and tells her he'll be back. He's still smiling; Ophelia can feel her heart beat in her throat.

It's happened. First real contact, and it had taken her completely by surprise. Quickly texting her dad that she'd talk more with him later, she shoves her phone back into her bag and finished the last of her cigarette before Nate rejoins her.

When he returns and hands her the drink, she thanks him sunnily, taking a sip as he moves to lean on the railing beside her. Silence lapses out between them for a few moments as they both watch the bonfire, but Ophelia steels her nerves and is the one to break it.

"You played well tonight," she offers easily. Nate's grin widens, even though he doesn't look at her. There's something shark-like in it, something suddenly hungry. So Ophelia ducks her gaze, acting vaguely abashed; she knows he can see her in his peripheries, "though you always do." Quickly she picks up her drink and takes a long sip.

"Ophelia Chase likes the way I play," he laughs quietly, sounding rather proud, and Ophelia feels herself flush. How is he the one surprising her?

"Nate Jacobs knows my full name," she snickers, trying to remain casual. It seems to work, as he finally looks to her, giving a noncommittal hum for a moment before deciding to explain.

"We have class together, of course I know your name," he pointed out, "Miss Chase," and there's no missing the flirty notes in his voice as he mimics the way their teachers would identify her. Then, for a moment, his expression twists just a little, "and you're Cassie's new, little friend." She knows what he means, knows she's friends with Maddie too. But Ophelia refuses to push on that particular point tonight.

"Didn't realise you paid so much attention to who Cassie was friends with," instead she gives him an abashed smile, but Nate's charm is relentless.

"Only when they're worth paying attention to."

It feels like a dream. He's flirting with her, making her blush, smirking at her in a way that only means trouble. She has to look away as she mumbled that she's flattered. Maybe it's that she underestimates his charm, or overestimated her ability to handle it. The buzzing of Nate's phone drew his attention and gave her a brief reprieve, but the tension returns to him as he reads whatever the message says.

"It's everything okay?"

"It's nothing," he mutters dismissively, glancing over his shoulder to the back door. It's Maddie, inside, still probably mad at him.

"Don't feel like you need to stay here," she assured him gently, her smile understanding, "I'm sure I'll be fine." But Nate slips his phone back into his pocket, bracing his hands on the railing as he leans against it.

"Did you really come here just to be by yourself?" He teases, and Ophelia feels quietly vindicated by the fact that he'd noticed, but pretends like that hasn't been her intention all night.

"Well my friends don't smoke," she laughs awkwardly, fidgeting with her drink before she takes another sip.

"Then why do you?" He's regarding her with curious intrigue, "you don't seem like the type."

"I wish I wasn't the type," she sighed, leaning back a little too far. Even if she doesn't show it, she definitely enjoys the way his gaze turns the faintest bit concerned as he watches her on the railing. Without a word, he shifts closer, hand coming to rest, solid and warm, on the small of her back. He's trying to be casual about it, especially when Ophelia sits back up straight, but she doesn't let the moment go, "thank you, Nate," she mumbles softly.

"'s fine," he responds easily, shrugging and retracting his hand. His focus is once more on the fire, expression pensive, "why are you here, Miss Chase?" He asks in a way that's so carefully casual it sounds like a trap. When Ophelia plays dumb, looking up at him with wide-eyed confusion, she sees the strange, little smile he wears. But he refuses to look at her, "you say you're just out here because your friends don't smoke, but I don't think you want to be here at all."

"I don't know what to say to that," Ophelia admits with a soft laugh, "what makes you say that?"

"All night, it seemed like you're avoiding... everyone," it's incredibly telling, Ophelia thinks. He'd noticed how clearly she'd been avoiding him all night, but didn't want to sound presumptuous.

"Are we including now?" She can't help but giggle, and something in her chest lights up when her remark makes Nate huff a quiet laugh. Then, however, he looks down, he meets her gaze; he's curious.

"I think you're being polite because I got you a drink," he tells her frankly, "do you want me to leave you alone?"

Absolutely not.

"Why did you get me a drink?"

"Wanted to ask why you were staring at me just before."

"Was I staring?" Ophelia's eyes widen with faux surprise, "I didn't- I'm sorry." After a moment she ducks her gaze before looking over to the bonfire where she'd been watching him earlier. After a long moment of deliberation, she sits up straighter, clearing her throat and proclaiming she needed another drink.

It's a fine line to walk between purposefully graceful, and accidentally clumsy. Well, it appears accidental; she turns on the railing but starts to over balance. She grabs the support beam beside her, just in case, but still feels Nate brace against her back, catching her before she can even begin to fall.

"Oh," she says so softly, eyes wide and surprised as she takes her time adjusting to this situation. Nate asks if she's alright, and Ophelia tips her head back against his chest, looking straight up at him with bewilderment. Cheeks flush with embarrassment and the copious amounts of liquor she'd consumed, she mumbled, "I'm fine?" With a practiced, flustered sweetness about her, it comes out more like a question. Another moment passes, and Ophelia looks away just as Nate finally behind to smile, like he'd decided that he was endeared by her intoxicated antics.

"You want some help there?" He doesn't even wait for her answer, curling his arm around her to steady her. Ophelia makes a token effort at protesting, insisting this time that she is fine, which just makes Nate laugh quietly. Or maybe it's that she's saying all this while bracing herself against him rather than the house's support beam beside her when she tries again to turn and get back to the patio side of the railing.

"See," she recovers her composure when her feet are safely on the ground, "I told you, I'm fine," she gave a cheerful smile, as if completely oblivious to how close they were, and Nate's hand on her waist. Nate humours her, telling her he was just making sure, just in case, but there's something in his eyes when he looks her over that has Ophelia's heartrate pick up. It's almost like intrigue, something hungry there... In this moment, Ophelia had two thoughts in rapid succession. The first is that, again, he's fucking easy as hell to read. Taking care of a pretty, little thing like Ophelia was a quick way to play to his own ego.

The second, that comes in only moments later, is that Ophelia's never felt quite so small before, or maybe it's that she'd never actually realised how overwhelmingly tall Nate was. This close, Nate is overwhelmingly... a lot. But the more out of it Ophelia acted, the less inclined he seemed to letting her go.

"Maybe I just need some water," Ophelia frowned a little, scrunching up her face for a moment as she looked around. It was still loud inside, and she genuinely didn't want to go in there right now. Honestly she didn't want to leave this moment; she can't quite believe it's worked out so well. Then, she looks back up to Nate, finding her voice again, "you're one of the guests of honour," she reminds him with a giggle, "I'm sure everyone's waiting for you to grace them with your presence; don't stay here on my account, I promise I'm really fine now." Despite this, she shifts her weight so she was leaning into his grip.

"Is that your polite way of telling me to fuck off?" He teases as he gazed down at her, giving her a gentle squeeze. The moment he meets her gaze, Ophelia feels herself flush.

"I'd never dream of telling someone to eff off." She tells him with conviction, dedicating even her vocabulary to this sweet act. Nate's eyebrows rise in genuine surprise; she gets the feeling he's trying not to laugh at her.

"You don't even swear?" After a beat, he turns amused, "that makes more sense than you smoking," he admits.

"I can be both types!" Ophelia bristles, finally stepping out of his grip; again, Nate laughs. He leans back against the bannister, letting her step away, but his eyes don't leave her.

"Clearly; you're also the type to be friends with a slut like Cassie Howard, I'm sure you're full of surprises," Nate's candid harshness catches Ophelia so off guard that she takes an actual step back, reflexively frowning. It kind of feels like a test, but she won't recognise it as such until well after the conversation. In the moment, her expression falls.

"Unnecessary," she responds softly, "Cassie's nice."

"Yeah, so I've heard," Nate smirks, tone laden with innuendo. There's a shift, however, with Ophelia's unexpectedly firm defence of her friend. Suddenly his gaze is no longer on her, Nate's looking out to the bonfire again. Ophelia is craving another cigarette already; the conversation feels so far out of her depth, she's freefalling and it has her feeling nauseous.

"Maybe I need- need more than water," she fusses with the clasp of her bag, "I think I need to go home."

"Who's making sure you get home safe?" Nate asks, sounding almost purposefully casual. Ophelia isn't sure if he's hitting on her, or if it's his protective instincts showing themselves once again. When she doesn't answer, but also doesn't move, he looks back at her, explaining, "because your friends don't smoke, but we both know they also aren't the type to leave parties early." Ophelia interprets it as mostly protective, but can't help but push her luck just a little more.

"The Uber driver, I'm sure, will deliver me home, safe and sound; why? You don't have to worry about me, Nate Jacobs," And she's actually giggling like it's an absurd idea. But even if she's not consciously trying to manipulate him, she can't seem to help herself. It gets his attention, even if she doesn't see it, even if she's focused on pulling out her phone to order her ride home, Nate is once more focused on her, even if he seems aware that he shouldn't admit that he wants to worry about her. This is the only interaction he believes they've shared.

"At least let me know when you get back to your place."

"I'll send a carrier pigeon upon my safe arrival -" Ophelia's giggling has not subsided, and in fact continues until the phone is snatched from her hands, "- hey!" Her indignant yelp probably catches the attention of some of his friends by the bonfire, but she's past the point of caring.

Then she's back in his space, trying to grab her phone as well she can think about is how much evidence of her obsession the little device has. If he were to browse her photo gallery alone he could probably argue a case for bypassing a temporary restraining order against her and immediately getting something permanent. Panic takes her hostage, propriety going out of the window as she practically throws herself at him -

"Give me back my phone!"

"I'm giving you my number, calm down," Nate explains, half amused, half exasperated, holding the phone out of his reach with one hand, trying to settle her with the other. Then when she goes quiet, goes still, her intense gaze remains focused on her phone in his hand. Until she realises he's once again holding back laughter.

"What?"

"What do you have on here, Ophelia Chase?"

"Can you just put your number in so I can go home?" She pouted, refusing to step back, "I'm sleepy, and I think I'm drunk, and -"

"You're definitely drunk," Nate's lips twitch into a smirk, but he finally lowers the phone so he can start typing his number into her contacts. Except the screen's gone dark. He turns it to face Ophelia, clearly expecting her to unlock it without taking it from her.

"Why are you doing this?" She muttered, still toe to toe with him, "you're being..." but Ophelia can't bring herself to even vaguely insult him; she wants this, even if she also really wants him to give back her phone.

"You're being drunk," he tells her flatly, "I'm just looking out for you since Maddie and her friends clearly abandoned you."

After a moment to process, to settle on her reaction, Ophelia finally steps back from him, practically sulking as she insists that they hadn't abandoned her. However, before Nate can argue his point further, she distracts him by conceding, pressing her thumb to the home button of her phone and unlocking it for him.

Taking another step back, she finally gives in to her craving and pulls another cigarette from her purse. When her lighter flicks too life, she's focused on inhaling, and misses the brief frown he gives her. Silence lapses out between them, with Ophelia putting even more distance between them as pulls the hair off of her face, out of the way of the cigarette glowing where it was poised between her lips, tying it half-up with one of the scrunchies around her wrist. The other drops to the ground, but she doesn't notice.

Nate hands back her phone, finally.

"I can order my Uber now?" She huffed sulkily.

"Already have," and right as he says it, Ophelia registers that the app is open, a ride booked too pick her up and take her home to the address she'd labelled as home in the app.

"Thanks," Ophelia sighs, finally pulling her jacket on, making her unsteady way to the back door, "I'll, um, message when I'm home."

"Good," is all Nate says on the matter; he's strangely aloof as he watches her go back into the house, but after that, Ophelia has other things to worry about.

But everything from stepping back inside, to the ride home, to finally crashing into bed, is a blur. She's very nearly asleep, still fully dressed, with her promise to Nate forgotten, when her phone starts to buzz with texts. Groaning, she reaches for where she'd thrown her phone on the bed, to see a series of texts from Nate. Honestly, she only knows it's Nate because his name is in bold at the top of the screen, the messages themselves are refusing to stay still on the screen for her tired, inebriated mins. So she calls him.

"I love how invested you are in my wellbeing," she blurts out with a giggle, it's too honest by half, but when she's this drunk she doesn't care. Nate is quite on the other end, so Ophelia continues, "I thought you gave me your number, how do you have mine?"

"Called myself from your phone when I put it in," Nate explains shortly. Ophelia's giggling again, assuring him that she wasn't murdered, that she was fine, just like she kept insisting to him earlier, "I'm just glad you're safe; anyone would worry about you with the state you left in."

"And what state is that?" Ophelia can't help her teasing tone, but Nate pauses, and there's something in his voice that has heat pooling low in Ophelia's gut.

"Pretty and helpless."

"Oh."

It feels like she's burning from three words alone. Also, it's proof that despite all the unanticipated turns the conversation had taken, he'd taken the bait.

Hook, line, and sinker.

"You think I'm pretty?" She can't help the sweet notes of disbelief bleeding into her voice. Ophelia can practically hear Nate smirking on the other end of the line.

"Good night, Miss Chase."

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