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deanthomaswhore · 2 months ago

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party 4 u ༉‧₊˚.

satc!clark kent x fem!reader ౨ৎ nyc au ೄྀ࿐ part one

౨ৎ alternate universe, adult au, no powers, human!clark, language, alcohol, smoking (cigarettes), a hint of sexual innuendos, hella sexual tension, horny reader(??) & bad writing.

At times, the occasional cigarette could be so freeing. Especially if you were in attendance for one of the most extravagant art gallery openings in the city. The idea alone of a freshly lit cigarette on a rooftop in New York City was liberating to you.

Truth be told, the skyline had never looked more marvelous. You believed that this very well could have been the best spot in the city to observe its beauty. How lucky you were to stumble upon it when in dire need of a cigarette.

You were dressed to the nines. The most gorgeous dark purple halter top gown clutched your curves in all the right places. The beaded detail of even darker purple half-swirls made the dress so breathtaking—aside from the enchanting woman inside of it. And your hair? An updo was in your cards no doubt. The stunning shimmer from the silver gems placed perfectly on top of your curled bun made you even more sensational. However, your once blackberry aroma was now masked by the smell of tobacco.

As you observed the city, the bright lights, the pedestrians walking at night, the loud taxi honks—you felt unconditional serenity. Leaning on the sturdy cement railing, you flicked out some ash from your cigarette. Bringing it back to your plush lips to inhale another puff of relaxation. Nonetheless, it would seem that the universe had other plans for you.

There was only one entrance to the rooftop. Truthfully, the roof’s elevator enclosure was the tiniest in the city. With just enough room for the singular elevator doors to open, the design left little space for the double glass doors that led outside to function. However, being New York, this was to be expected.

Breaking you out of your trance, the racket from the elevator’s motions was louder than you had recalled. Just a few minutes ago you, yourself were riding upon it in hopes of making it to the roof. But now, you watched and waited for the culprit to reveal themself from the noisy elevator.

Leaning further back onto the railing, you placed both of your elbows behind you. Your head tilted as you tried to make out who the figure was. As the doors clicked shut, a man you had never had the privilege of spotting before made his very way outside. You were no longer alone.

He was gorgeous, no doubt. His tux fit him nicely, his blazer hugging at his muscular arms. The stranger’s hair was dark, though it complimented him well. You appeared to be starstruck by a man you had never seen before.

Placing the cigarette to your lips, you let out a crooked grin. “D’you come to hide out too?” you smiled, exhaling the smoke.

In all honesty, you weren't hiding out. You had come to the gallery with a few of your closest girlfriends and you were having a great time. It was just that a few of them had already run off with their gentleman suitors for the night or they had taken a little too much advantage of the endless champagne tower. Leaving you to crave fresh air and nicotine.

He chuckled softly at your question, his radiant blue eyes meeting yours. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” His hair ruffled in the wind as he approached you. He was tall, like a movie star. Yeah, he was old Hollywood pretty. “I’m not one for art galleries,” he explained putting his hands in his pockets.

You chuckled. You wondered why he would even make the effort to attend one, considering his distaste. “What, you're here for the champagne then?” you asked jokingly, flicking some ash off your cigarette in the process.

The dark-haired man smiled, making his way over to the railing you were leaning on. His eyes traced the details of the city, before making their way back to you. “That and it’s a friend of mine’s exhibit,” he informed you. Oh, so he was supportive. Handsome, puts his needs before others. Could be worse. “I’m Clark, by the way.” he extended his hand to you.

Trading hands for your cigarette, you rested it in between your index and middle finger on your left hand—allowing your right hand to reach out and connect with his large palm. “It's nice to meet you, Clark.” you smile up at him as your hands interlock. “I’m y/n.” you introduce yourself, letting go of his grasp.

Moving your body off of the railing, you turn to face him completely. His eyes trail over your face for a moment before he speaks again. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he chuckles, leaving you confused. “You’re stunning,” he confessed, leaving your cheeks a bright red.

Reaching a hand into your bag you smile at the complement. Unsure if he was drunk or just always this forward, you gave in to his attention. “You smoke?” you asked reaching a hand into your small black purse.

Clark’s gaze drifted to your purse. He watched as you pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He observed you as you flicked the ashes off of your cigarette once more. “On the occasion,” he smiled, locking eyes with you as he flashed his sharp teeth.

You shook the red and white package, hitting it gently against the palm of your hand. Then you took another drag of your cigarette. “Yeah,” you exhaled the smoke. “me too.” You opened the carton’s lid, pointing it to Clark.

Naturally, he obliged, reaching two of his long fingers to grab a cancer stick. He was intrigued by your confidence and carefree attitude. Taking a cigarette out of the carton, he placed it to his lips. He eyed you as you placed the pack back into your bag and out pulled a leopard print lighter.

“Gotta light?” his voice muffled due to the object in between his lips. His words were teasing, because you had a light for him. Hell, you had many things for him. He was smirking at the lighter in your hands, waiting for your next move.

You smiled at him, placing your nearly dead cigarette in between your lips to hold it. Your polished fingers went to the spark wheel, trying repeatedly until a light of fire flashed before the two of you. You moved closer to Clark, meeting his cigarette with your flame. Your eyes locked with his the whole time. His hands reached up to block the wind and naturally, yours did too. When your hands grazed it felt as if the scene before you was provocative, even though it wasn't at all. Right?

Removing your hands you watched as Clark enjoyed his long drag of nicotine. He pulled away, head leaning back a bit as he closed his eyes. Clearing your throat, you moved to put the lighter back up in your bag. You had never seen someone so beautiful. But there he was, bumming off you're liberating tobacco stick.

You, on the other hand, were done with your cigarette. Lifting your left leg slightly up, you put out the shallow flame on the back of your red-bottomed heel. You walked away from Clark and toward a trash bin, tossing the butt away.

��So,” he flicked some ash off. “What brings you here?” he asked, smiling at you as his eyes raked over your body.

“What, to the roof or to the party?” you chuckled, returning to your spot by Clark.

“Why not both?” he teased, inhaling his coffin nail.

You grinned, looking at your feet and then back up to him. “For the party, I came with some friends. We just wanted to go out, you know. But uh, they're either drunk or getting fucked so. As for the roof, I just really wanted a fucking cigarette.” You confessed, looking out at the skyline. “But, I think I may have found the best view in the whole city.” You spoke, admiring the busy night life.

Clark took a puff, blowing the smoke away from your pretty face. “Yeah? I think I may have too.” He flirted, a wide grin glued to his pinky lips.

You chuckled a little bit taken aback by his forwardness. “Clark,” you choked out. “you’re a flirt.” You stated, still chuckling.

“I’m serious!” he defended, stomping his cigarette out on the ground. His hands found their way to your forearms. “Let me take you out, y/n. Any place in the city.” Clark grinned.

You rolled your eyes. “Are you drunk?” you asked.

“No, but you're fucking gorgeous! And not to mention good company. Come on, tomorrow night what’d you say?”

He was eager. But he was also sexy. Who were you to tell him no? “Alright.” you grinned, watching his face form into pure happiness.

“You darling, will not regret this.” He spoke, placing a kiss on your left hand.

Maybe, just maybe Clark Kent could be the exact solution to your loneliness in New York City. Maybe he could liberate you. Maybe he could be your sweet release.

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deanthomaswhore · 2 months ago

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EVERYTHING IS EMBARRASSING ?

pairings: max verstappen x podcaster!reader

faceclaim: taylor russell

summary: you run the number one podcast on spotify, agonyauntie, and your dream guest is max verstappen. too bad for you that he hates podcasts.

or the one where your podcast is max’s guilty pleasure.

author’s note: clearing out drafts.

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,837,892 others.

yourusername: after a month long hiatus, agonyauntie is back with bigger and better stories. i’m excited to share the newest episode with you on all of the available channels.

please tune in so my mom won’t regret letting me drop out of university to pursue airing people’s dirty laundry on the internet. thank you xoxo

view all comments

user1: WE WON WE WON HELLO!!!!!

user2: will you ever top mango man? i don’t think so.

-> yourusername: trust me user2. we will.

user3: the way during the hiatus the podcast was still #4 on the spotify chart is crazy.

-> user4: WE COMIN FOR THAT NUMBER ONE SPOT YUP!!!

user5: prettiest girl ever. you need a youtube channel so we can see that facecard.

-> user6: she said she prefers podcasting to making videos because she’s awkward asf 😭

-> user7: real omg

-> user8: she’s so me.

user9: who is this 😻

-> user10: yn yln! she’s the creator and host of agonyauntie, which she started back in university. it was originally a radio show in which people would email her their problems and she’d tell them advice. it went viral when she did the episode of ‘mango man’ (just google it, it’s hilarious) and then she moved to a podcast format so it was more accessible. it went to number one and she’s halfway through s2. it’s so good!!! honestly you need to listen to the episodes.

landonorris: SO EXCITED YESSSS 🤩

-> user11: always at the scene of the crime

-> user12: how many fandoms is this guy in? 🤨

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

AGONYAUNT! season 2, episode 7.

[soft jazzy intro music fades out]

yn: okay, this next email is… wow. honestly, when i read it, i had to sit back, take a sip of tea, and whisper, “what the actual hell?” to myself. so naturally, i had to include it in the episode.

let me just read it for you.

[mock-serious tone as she reads aloud]

“hi yn, first off, i love the podcast. you’re literally the only person i trust to handle this because everyone else would either call me crazy or tell me to dump him, and honestly, neither of those options feel right (yet). anyway, here goes: i think my boyfriend is trying to become a bird.

i know that sounds like i’ve lost the plot, but please hear me out. it started small—like him watching a lot of bird documentaries and casually saying things like, ‘owls are the wolves of the sky’ (which i didn’t think about at the time because men say weird things constantly). but then he started doing… bird things. he whistles now. a lot. not cute whistling, yn. it’s more like he’s calling for backup.

then last week i caught him eating sunflower seeds—not out of a bag, but cracking them open with his teeth and spitting the shells on the carpet. the carpet, yn. he’s also been spending suspicious amounts of time sitting on the windowsill ‘for the breeze’ and called a pigeon his ‘mate’ the other day like they’re friends now??

but the final straw? he built a nest. like, an actual nest. i came home from work to find him on the couch surrounded by twigs, string, and what i think might’ve been my missing socks. he said it was ‘just a joke,’ but when i asked why there were eggs in it, he got all defensive and said i ‘wouldn’t understand.’

so now i don’t know what to do. do i confront him and risk him flying away (literally)? or do i just let him… become whatever he’s becoming? pls help me yn. i miss my normal boyfriend who used to just binge-watch love island and occasionally make me toast.

cheers, girl who might be dating a parrot.”

[pause for comedic effect]

yn: okay. wow. first of all, thank you for this email. genuinely, it’s given me a lot to think about. like, this man has gone full National Geographic, and you’re just… casually living with it? incredible. i’m so glad you came to me because i don’t think your friends would’ve taken this seriously enough, and frankly, neither will i, but we’ll do our best.

so. is your boyfriend trying to become a bird? honestly, yeah. sounds like he’s halfway there. whistling, befriending pigeons, eating seeds like he’s at a football match—this man is leaning in hard. and i have to say, the nest? iconic. horrifying, but iconic. he built an actual nest in your home. he didn’t just think about it; he did it. that’s commitment.

but here’s the thing: you have to ask yourself, are you okay with this? like, if you imagine your life five years from now and you’re still with him, is he going to be perched on top of the fridge, squawking about how you don’t appreciate him? or is this just a phase? because maybe it’s temporary. maybe he’s stressed, and this is his way of coping—some people journal, some people go bird-mode.

what i suggest is this: sit him down for a chat. calmly ask, “babe, are you going through something? or are you genuinely preparing to molt?” like, we need clarity here. and if he doubles down on the bird thing, you have a choice to make. either support him and start buying bulk birdseed, or set him free—preferably in a park, not near any major roads.

also, maybe keep your eye on those eggs. i don’t know where he got them, but i’d be concerned.

anyway, good luck with your pigeon-man. i wish you nothing but the best, and if it escalates, please email me again. i have to know what happens.

[transition music fades in]

yn: right, let’s move on before i spiral into a full TED talk about men and their inability to handle hobbies normally. honestly, this man saw blue planet one time and said, “that’s my personality now.” unbelievable.

[music fades out, next segment begins]

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by landonorris, ynsfanpage and 1,727,908 others

agonyauntie: our newest episode is out next week, here are three clues about what it will include.

(hint: the middle one is that our host will be involved. spoiler alert! 😉)

view all comments

user1: omg it’s MAX VERSTAPPEN

-> user2: who tf is that

-> user3: exactly like yn said celebrities as guests

-> user4: he’s literally famous? he’s a formula one star???

-> user3: okay congrats

-> user4: ??

-> user3: girl idk what u want me to say idgaf abt that man 😭 good for him getting the krabby patty formula one or wtvr

user5: OMG MAX AND YN…

-> user6: new ship name needed asap

-> user7: new job application needed ASAP!

user8: omg what if yn and max get together? he’s her dream guest and she seemed a little into him om the live she did watching the f1 race.

-> user9: um he’s literally gay i just googled it…

-> user10? HUH?

-> user9: his fiance is charles leclerc i just read how they met on this gossip website called ao3. very cute. it also told me more about obama’s secret lover, some guy called harry styles. you should check it out.

-> user10: u grown as hell and u can vote. the world is a scary place.

user11: AND NEXT GUEST WILL BE LANDONORRIS LETS PRAY TOGETHER 😎

-> user12: lando we know it’s you take them glasses OFF!

-> user11: 🥲 🕶🤏🥲

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

author’s note: hi :) just looking for some feedback. send me an ask with what sort of fics u guys like. idk what to post. have a lot of drafts. also idk this will get a pt2. i just want it GONE! sorry <3

2K notes · View notes

deanthomaswhore · 2 months ago

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i wish i hated you | max verstappen

pairing: actress!reader x max verstappen

summary: max has an open relationship but he starts falling for you, compromising his relationship and your reputation

fc: havana rose liu

warnings: so i know this is not technically how open relationships work however for plot purposes this is how i will portray this one specifically

a/n: this fic shouldn’t have took me as long as it took me to write but whatever, max won in brazil after an incredible race and he deserves all the flowers 🥹

—

liked by redbullracing, danielricciardo and others

maxverstappen1 3 🦁🏆

view all comments

username let’s goooo max 👊🏽

username simply lovely

gfusername my champion❤️

maxverstappen1 💙

username legend

username hopefully a 4th next year? 👀

username jeez let him enjoy this one first 😭

redbullracing our world champion 🥳

liked by maxverstappen1, kaiagerber and others

yourusername me and my doppelgängers

view all comments

username so beautiful

username literally a face people would go to war for

username mesmerized by her actually

username i know that face card is never declining

maxverstappen1 😄

username now why is my man max lurking in here?

liked by yourusername, gfusername and others

maxverstappen1 magical city

view all comments

username sir i was not familiar

username i’m so normal about max being in nyc i’m sooo normal about it

username out of all the places in the world new york was the last city i expect max to go to

username well deserved vacations?

username on his own might i add

username and his girlfriend?

username in paris

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername favorite place in the world🍎

view all comments

username GORGEOUS

username so real

username wait max liking this and he’s also in new york? ….

username lando liking also ….

username could be just a coincidence 🤷🏽‍♀️

username or could mean nothing

username yep he has a girlfriend too, hope this helps!

liked by f1wags and others

f1gossip red bull driver max verstappen was seen with actress y/n y/l/n together in new york during the winter break

tagged maxverstappen1 and yourusername

view all comments

username uhmmmm guys ???

username wait i’m confused, didn’t he had a girlfriend?

username HE DOES

username maybe they broke up?

username omg 😭

username HE’S CHEATING?

username i did not see this one coming

username maybe they’re just friends?

username yeah because thats how you act with your friends

liked by nicholasgalitzine, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername petition to be your favorite bloody cheerleader🦧

view all comments

kaiagerber petition accepted!

username i need her biblically

username no way max is liking this 😀

username like have some SHAME

username no but her too 😩

username omw to see this movie for the 372838 time

maxverstappen1 fun 😉

username jesus christ

liked by yourusername, gfusername and others

maxverstappen1 always playing

view all comments

username who is he trying to soft launch here

username wait is that … y/n?

username there is simply no way

username i used to really like her but after this mess … idk

username if cheater why hot

username ughhh i’m angry at him rn but why does he have to look so good

username both his girlfriend and y/n liking this post 😭

username one of them has got to be delusional

liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yourusername very vogue 🌸

view all comments

username max in the likes AGAIN

username girl

username she’s very beautiful but the cheating is 😬

username the way she doesn’t even try to hide itttt

username i mean if someone is to blame is max not her

username she knows he’s taken

username babes you can’t post a thirst trap and expect us to forget about the cheating (although it’s lowkey working)

username this shoot atee

maxverstappen1 😍

username nah this is just too much

liked by gfusername, charles_leclerc and others

maxverstappen1 🥰

view all comments

username speechless

username men will really flirt with women on the internet and then post a picture kissing their girlfriend

username guys he is a MAN what did we expect

username alexa play that should be me

username well if his girlfriend forgave him for shamelessly flirting with y/n i can too

username so this is exactly what we are not doing

username that woman is stronger than me fr

gfusername love you💖

maxverstappen1 ❤️

username the way i would commit actual murder

liked by gfusername, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername i’ll always have new york 🥨

view all comments

username baby…

username i’m sorry but i can’t stay mad at her look at her smile

username she was born to serve

username the it girl of our generation

username max’s girlfriend liking this 😭😭

username she gagged me

username fyi she actually ditched that blonde man to date me

username ALLEGEDLY

username his loss 🤷🏽‍♀️

1K notes · View notes

deanthomaswhore · 2 months ago

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sweet talk (4)

nate jacobs x reader

| summary | you've become pretty close with nate... now he wants to introduce you to his world

warnings: manipulation, persuasion

masterlist

⋆⭒˚.⋆🏈⋆⭒˚.⋆

By now, you’ve gotten used to seeing him.

What started as polite small talk — “How’s your shift going?” and “What’s good tonight?” — has turned into playful smirks, inside jokes, and little moments that stretch longer than they probably should. He stays until closing more often than not, keeping you company on slow nights, watching you with that quiet, unreadable stare that always makes your pulse quicken.

It’s become routine. He comes in every other night, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends who barely stay ten minutes before leaving him behind — like they know better than to interrupt whatever this is.

And each time he returns, it feels less like a customer-waitress thing and more like something else. Something heavier. Something you’re not sure you have a name for.

Tonight, the storm is rolling in fast, thunder rumbling low in the distance. The rain lashes against the windows, and the diner is almost empty. You’re wiping down the counter when the bell jingles.

You already know who it is before you even turn around.

He steps inside, shaking rain from his hair, drops spattering onto the floor in little dark spots. His hoodie clings to his shoulders, damp and heavy.

“You’re insane,” you mutter, grabbing a hand towel and tossing it at his chest.

He catches it one-handed, his grin bright enough to make your chest ache.

“Miss me?”

You snort, shaking your head, but your face feels hot.

“You’re gonna catch pneumonia.”

“I’ll survive.” He leans on the counter, close enough that you catch the rain-clean scent of his skin mixed with something deeper — like leather and smoke. His gaze flicks over your face, lingering for a second too long.

“Bored without me?”

“Devastated,” you shoot back before you can stop yourself.

He laughs — low and warm — like he likes that you’re teasing him now, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment where you’re finally comfortable enough to joke back.

You fix his coffee without asking. He doesn’t even order anymore; you know what he likes by heart.

“You sure you come here for the coffee?” you ask, leaning your hip against the counter, feeling just a little bold.

He shrugs, his eyes gleaming with something you can’t name.

“Not really about the coffee.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

The hours pass easily. He watches you work, sliding into a booth and giving you running commentary on your balancing skills, making you laugh when you’re sure you shouldn’t.

You catch yourself glancing at him more often than necessary, the comfort between you two building like slow-burning embers.

The storm finally breaks as you’re turning the key in the diner’s lock, the streets flooded with silver puddles. He’s already leaning against his truck, arms folded, hoodie pulled up, waiting for you like he always does.

“I told you I could walk,” you say, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself.

“Not in this.” He nods toward the rain now falling in a light drizzle. “Come on.”

You don’t argue. The cab of his truck is warm, smelling faintly of him — a mix of cologne and leather and rain. He cranks the heater, and you kick off your soaked shoes, tucking your feet up on the seat.

“You ever get tired of staring at me all night?” you tease, watching raindrops race each other down the window.

He glances at you, a soft smile tugging at his mouth.

“Not yet.”

You pretend your stomach doesn’t flip.

But instead of taking you straight home, he pulls into a neighboring 24-hour diner you’ve never been to.

You raise a brow.

“Let me guess — not really about the food?”

"Getting predictable, huh?”

You both slide into a booth, and it feels strange being on the other side of the counter for once. Strange, but nice.

He asks about your family — you shrug, tell him they’re busy, always gone, and you’re used to it.

He tells you about his. His dad, mostly. There’s something bitter underneath his words, a sharp edge he doesn’t explain, and you don’t push.

Instead, you swap stories. Stupid customers you’ve dealt with, the time you tripped carrying a tray and dumped a milkshake down a guy’s back, his terrible middle-school haircut that makes you laugh until your sides hurt.

You realize somewhere between shared fries and easy conversation that you haven’t felt this relaxed in a long time.

At one point, you catch him watching you — not with that intense stare that used to make you nervous, but softer now. Warmer.

“You’re easy to be around, you know that?” he says quietly, almost like it’s a confession.

You blink, caught off guard.

“Thanks… I think?”

“I mean it.”

You look down at your plate, cheeks warm, not knowing how to respond.

The night feels too short. He drives you home slowly, both of you reluctant to end it. He parks in front of your house but doesn’t cut the engine.

“I’ve got a game Friday night,” he says finally, voice quieter now, like he’s testing the waters.

You turn toward him, surprised.

“You should come. Wear my jersey.”

Your heart skips.

“I thought that was, like… a girlfriend thing?”

He smiles, slow and easy.

“People tend to think that, yeah.”

You bite your lip, unsure.

He leans in just a little, eyes dark and unreadable.

“I want you there.”

You feel yourself melting, your doubts softening under the weight of his gaze.

“I’ll bring it tomorrow,” he says softly, like he already knows your answer. “Just in case.”

Before you can respond, he reaches over, tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger for just a moment longer than they should.

“See you, sweetheart.”

Your chest tightens.

You barely make it inside before your knees feel like jelly, and you can’t stop thinking about the way his touch felt — light, deliberate, and leaving you wanting more.

The next day drags on like honey sliding down the side of a jar — slow, sticky, impossible to ignore.

You try to busy yourself with wiping down counters and refilling salt shakers, but your mind won’t shut up.

It keeps replaying last night on a loop.

The way his voice dipped low when he called you sweetheart.

The warmth in his eyes that felt like being seen in a way you weren’t sure anyone ever had before. And that flutter in your stomach? It still hasn’t left.

The diner’s unusually quiet, the soft hum of the overhead lights mixing with the occasional patter of rain against the windows.

You’re almost relieved for the silence — until the bell chimes.

That familiar sound that now sends your heart into a tailspin.

You turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat like you’re about to see something forbidden.

And there he is.

Leaning against the counter like it’s his throne, wearing that same smug confidence like a tailored jacket.

His hoodie’s damp, clinging to his arms in a way that only highlights how broad his shoulders are.

And in his hand — that dark green jersey with "JACOBS" and his player number stitched in bold, proud letters across the back.

“Told you I’d bring it.”

He tosses it onto the counter, and the fabric hits with more weight than cloth has any right to carry.

You stare down at it, nerves bunching up tight in your chest.

Your fingers hover just above the material, like touching it might seal something permanent.

“I… I don’t know if I should go,” you murmur, voice small.

Your eyes flick up to his face and then drop back down.

“I don’t even know anyone there.”

His expression shifts — just the tiniest flicker of something behind his eyes.

Not anger.

Something quieter. Darker. Almost possessive in a way that makes the air feel heavier.

He leans in slowly, forearms resting on the counter, voice dropping to a murmur meant only for you.

“You’ll know me.”

The words hit lower than your stomach.

You swallow hard, feeling your pulse in your ears.

“I’ll stand out,” you say, but the argument sounds weak even to you.

He shrugs, like it’s already decided.

“That’s the point.”

Simple. Certain. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You gnaw on your lip, anxiety curling in your chest. But before you can spin any more excuses, he lets out a soft sigh and tilts his head.

“Come here.”

The words are soft, but there’s a pull to them — like gravity, inevitable and impossible to resist.

Your body moves before your brain catches up.

You step out from behind the counter, your heart pounding so loud you wonder if he can hear it.

He meets you halfway, close enough that you can smell the rain on his clothes and the faint scent of his cologne — clean, sharp, and warm all at once.

He lifts a hand, hooks his finger gently under your chin, tilts your face up until your eyes meet his.

His gaze is steady, unreadable, like he’s looking through you and into something deeper.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, so soft it feels like silk brushing against your skin. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

The air between you crackles.

Your breath stutters, and for a moment you swear the world tilts just a little.

It’s not a threat.

But something about the way he says it makes you feel like saying no was never really an option.

Your head dips in a small nod before you even realize what you’re doing.

He exhales, just the barest breath, and his thumb brushes along your jaw — soft and slow, like he’s savoring the moment.

“There you go,” he whispers, like you’ve just done him a favor he really didn’t think he’d have to ask for twice.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you pick up the jersey, clutching it to your chest like a lifeline.

He starts to turn, but just before he does, you catch the words he mutters under his breath — low and rough.

“Good girl.”

Your face flushes so fast you think you might actually catch fire.

And when your gaze snaps up to him, his smirk is already there — lazy, satisfied, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“I’ll pick you up,” he adds easily, already halfway to the door.

Like that’s that.

You just stand there, breathless and burning, watching the door swing shut behind him with a soft jingle.

And then you look down at the jersey clutched in your hands — heavy, solid, real.

You swallow, heart still racing.

At some point between him walking in and walking out, you lost every ounce of control.

⋆⭒˚.⋆🏈⋆⭒˚.⋆

taglist!!

@yktayy9669 @idontknowwhyimhere33

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deanthomaswhore · 2 months ago

Text

ᴘᴇᴛᴛʏ // ɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴊᴀᴄᴏʙꜱ

My other Nate fics. If you have the time.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader.

Warnings : Cussing. Slight NSFW (non-explicit bc it's me). Long but (hopefully) worth it.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : Revenge is a dish best served cold-hearted.

════════════════════════════════════════════

Nate's never really been one for one night stands. Yeah, he knows that he seems like the type, but honestly, he was deathly scared of STDs and shit, and plus, he worried that if he didn't stay with the girl and give her a relationship, she might say some bullshit around about how bad he was in bed. It was pathetic, he knew it, but that's a really hard thing to discredit, because what would he even do? Fuck the entire female population in the district to prove her wrong?

That being said, he was only a man, at the end of the day. Alcohol and women, bro, lethal fucking combination.

So, when his hand finally stopped pressing the side of your face down into the pillow and he finally pulled out, his dread came faster than he did.

He flopped down onto the bed beside you, attempting to catch his breath while curiously watching your back still facing him. "You okay?" He seemed more confused than concerned. Like his dick was the fucking godfather of all dicks, and there was no reason for you not to be anything short of grateful.

You seemed to jerk out of your thoughts then, and turned to him, bunching the sheets up to your chest. "Yeah, no, yeah.", you replied, eyebrows twitching as if unsure whether they wanted to frown or furrow.

"What is it?", he asked, narrowing his eyes as he tossed you your clothes.

The corners of your lips turned down, and you shook your head. "Nothing."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?", he asked, sitting up and stretching for a single, peaceful moment, before he stalked over to his bathroom.

"Like what?"

He scoffed from inside, splashing water from the running tap onto his eyes, before glaring at himself in the mirror. "Like I just hit the second tower.", he called.

You didn't respond as he cleaned himself up, and he rolled his eyes. "What, too dark for you?"

Nate pulled on a fresh pair of boxers after he was done, and stuck his head out the door, gesturing that it was your turn. He stopped you as you passed by him, though, tilting his head down at you. "Did you not come?"

Fuck. You'd been under the impression that he was too drunk to have noticed that look on your face, and now he was just spot-on with the observation? "No, I just, uh..." Think, fuck! "...I feel like I recognize you, from somewhere.", you lied.

He let go of your elbow, letting you go in and clean yourself up as he settled on the edge of his bed, unlocking his phone. "From where?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, could he not just shut up? Alright, wait. You'd seen dumbbells in his room, meaning he was a gym-guy. So the gym would be a safe option to say, but then again, he had all the shit in his room, why would he pay for a membership? "Football.", you blurted out.

Silence. "Oh, yeah, I'm QB for East Highland."

Sheer, dumb luck. God couldn't help you out in exams, but would have your back with lying to a lousy hookup? Priorities, man, come on.

"Right, probably there."

"So, you from around here, then? Like, what's the deal? Haven't seen you before at my games."

You really wanted to stay in the fucking bathroom, because how fucking awkward was this shit gonna be when you got out? Walk of shame, questions from your Aunt Leslie, shit.

"No, I live in New York. I'm just visiting my cousins and my aunt for Christmas."

He leaned back against his headboard, his eyes illuminated by his phone screen as he typed your name into Instagram. How the hell did you have so many mutuals with him? "Oh. Cool.", he called, cursing under his breath. Of course your fucking profile was private. You had hardass written all over you.

You took a deep breath. It didn't fucking matter, you were drunk. Yeah. You were drunk, you didn't have sex, you were just drunk and roaming the streets. 'Sorry, Aunt L, I just didn't know my limits. Yeah, sorry. I won't do it again.' Good. Alibi prepped.

Biting your hair tie from your wrist and tugging it up to tie your hair, you were just about ready to— no.

A fucking hickey?! Was he a fucking dumbass?

You practically broke the door handle, with how aggressive you were, and you walked out the bathroom to the sweet release of AC. At least he wasn't that much of a dumbass.

He shut his phone off, scratching at his jaw and scrambling for small talk before the dreaded post-coital analysis that was sure to come. "So, who's your cousin?"

With his luck, it'd be Maddy.

"Uh, Rue and Gia Bennett, you know them?"

Whoa. Whoa, whoa, scratch that, his luck was fucking amazing tonight.

A smirk. A shift in the sheets, and he was entirely facing you. "Yeah?"

"You know her?"

"Small town."

You nodded, your fingers picking at the edge of your phonecase. "You close?"

"No."

Once more, you replied with a nod, switching on your phone. Okay, curfew was twelve for you, eleven for Rue, it was ten forty-five. So, you had ten minutes to get back to the party — wait, why had you even fucking left? Like you couldn't have hooked up at the party? God, alcohol should be banned around you, you'd just followed some guy back to his house to hook up, with nothing but a fucking name, and you'd just told him you weren't from here, who your family was— fuck! You were a danger to yourself with alcohol.

"How far is your house from the party?"

He raised a brow. "Like, two or three blocks."

Huh.

"Why?"

"I need to get back, pick up my cousin, take her home."

"Rue.", he said, maybe as a giddy little reminder to himself.

"Yeah, Rue. I can't let her stay unsupervised at a party. She's a recov—"

"Yeah, a recovering addict, I know. We all do. She OD'd, we thought she RIP'd."

"So did I. Scary."

He clicked his tongue, nodding offhandedly. "Uh-huh, yup. Tragic. Hey, did you actually come?"

"Come where?"

He raised a brow.

"Oh. Uh—"

"Don't lie to me. I'm not a jackass who doesn't know how to make a girl come."

Beg to differ.

"No, you know what, man, it's alright, I really gotta be—"

"We have to remedy that.", he declared, with a barely controlled chuckle of absolute exuberance. "So you can have at least one win tonight before you go babysit Cousin.", he grinned, leaning over to kiss at your forehead, your nose, cheek, and then, of course, your lips. "Don't we?", he murmured, covering your mouth as you attempted to protest. "Yeah, we do.", he continued, kissing down your chest, now, fingers skimming up your dress once again as his mouth lowered. But his eyes stayed on yours, a sort of quiet challenge in them. Amusement, too, if you squinted.

"You're so fucking hot.", he muttered, his teeth leaving another fucking hickey (you were about to stab him) on your inner thigh now. "Sorry I didn't make you come before. Happens sometimes, when I'm drunk. Let me make up for it."

And, to his credit, this time he actually did.

════════════════════════════════════════════

Fuck. Fuck. "Rue? Rue? Fuck, talk to me, Rue!"

"You're really fucking late.", she slurred.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that— don't pick up! It's your mom, neither of us wants her to hear you like this."

"Is that a hickey?"

"Burned myself on the hair iron.", you replied, adjusting the rearview to focus your gaze on her twitching body.

"Yeah, sure.", she groaned out, shifting around in the backseat as though she were in pain.

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I've greened out before, it's not a big— fuck, pull over, pull over, pull over, pull FUCKING over, Y/N!"

The car screeched to a halt when you did, turning to watch her bang open the door to throw up into a nearby trashcan. You briefly wondered if this particular trashcan and her were acquainted, if she actually had greened out a lot of times before this.

"Why did you even smoke the weed?! You said you were just drinking!"

She gripped the bench near the trash can for a moment, before shaking her head and leaping back to retch again. You rolled your head back onto the headrest, running a hand over your jaw. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Rue? Rue, you okay back there?" You couldn't hide the fucking tremble in your voice, and she seemed to notice it, too.

"Yeah, fuck you, man, c'mon, I'm not a baby, I told you, I've greened out before. Drive."

"What if your mother drug-tests you?"

"She won't. Hide that "flat-iron-burn" from her and she'll think you were with me the whole time. Okay? I— wait, wait."

This was not the fucking time for her to be looking at her motherfucking phone.

"Scratch that alibi. Fuck that whole shit, tell her I was with Ali."

"Who the fuck is Ali?"

"My sponsor. She knows who he is. Just tell her he texted and we're fine, and drop me off at this, like diner or whatever. I'll tell you the way."

"Rue, it's Christmas Eve, you're not seriously gonna spend it without us, are you?"

"It's not even real fucking Christmas! Jesus!"

Silence. You grabbed the phone from her, placing it on the dashboard and letting the Maps do the talking for the rest of the drive.

Fuck this night.

════════════════════════════════════════════

Fuck. Fuck. He was trying to zoom into your profile picture, not fucking request you like a goddamn loser! He'd never requested anyone in his life, save for Maddy, after she removed him that one time. He groaned, running his hands over his face. Yeah, sure he could have un-requested, but shit, he'd show up in the 'people you might know' list, anyway, and the notification might have already— and there it was. You'd accepted. Fucking great.

You followed him, as well. Actually great.

Almost greedily, he clicked on the one post you had.

He scoffed, practically throwing his phone on the bed.

It's always the bitches who post sunsets that you can't get out of your head.

Fine. Whatever. He wasn't interested in your bullshit sunset post and two story highlights full of music or your friends (all girls, good), anyway. He was interested in how you had so many mutuals with him, seriously. Thankfully, with the exception of Lexi Howard (he figured that was a through-Rue-friendship), there weren't any other liabilities. He liked this.

He didn't, however, like the amount of his teammates who sat in that Mutuals tab. Did you just go through football players like fucking tissues? Did he just get a second-hand dicking down?

Okay. Backing up. He didn't know anything about you, for real, he had to chill out.

A little more sleuthing, and he figured it out. Daughter of a college scout. No fucking wonder. The guys on his team were shameless. Wasn't the college he wanted, but hey, he'd use the excuse of a career to stay in your followers list.

What did you fucking think about him? He's sure Rue must have got into your head about him — he doubts you've even told her, though.

Either way, the urge to find out was getting stronger.

Since his break up with Maddy at the winter formal, he really had been on one. He wanted to fuck some shit up, do something that didn't revolve fixing shit that was broken ; relationship, family, reputation. He was sick of it.

And hence.

Hey.

Nate from Christmas Eve.

Oh, hi.

Mall 2morrow? U + me?

Idk. Idk u that well.

Okay, fair. You were sober, and being rational, not wanting to go out with some guy just because you'd hooked up with him once. Smart. He didn't like you sober, though.

Public place. I'll leave you alone the second you tell me. Promise.

Idk man.

I'll buy u an Xmas/New Year's gift.

For what?

I can't stop thinking about you. I'll be there @ 1 if u change ur mind.

You had hoped with all your heart that you wouldn't run into him when you were dropping Gia off at the mall to hang with her friends, but of course, the universe thought your life was a big fucking joke.

So, you were grabbing an iced coffee to go, and there the fuck he was.

"Look who made it. The path to every girl's heart is a gift, I guess."

Did he think leaning against the counter like a cheap James Dean knockoff was going to have you rushing to get in bed with him again?

"I was doing something else. I'm not here for your 'Christmas-slash-New Year's gift'. "

"Yeah, dropping baby Bennett off, I know, I saw. Why'd you stay, though?"

"What, I'm not allowed to stay anywhere now?"

"Yeah, you are."

A pause as he inconspiciously swatted your hand away, offering the barista his card.

"But staying here with me? That's risky, isn't it?"

"Why?"

Huh. So you hadn't told Rue. Good to know.

He shrugged, taking the card back. "'Cause you know I'm about to spoil you fucking rotten.", he grinned, waving the card in front of your face.

"Yeah.", you scoffed, handing him the money you were supposed to pay the barista before you collected your iced coffee. "No thanks."

He pouted. "Yo. I'm being for real. I had a really good time. And I'm sure you did, too."

You opened your mouth to protest, and probably bring up his worst moment, so he shut you up by wrapping an arm around your shoulder and steering you out of the store. "The second time, at least. Cut me some slack, I was drunk."

"That is a comfort to no one but you."

He glared. "I'm not that bad in bed."

"I'll see you around, Nate."

A scoff. A very publicly inappropriate kiss.

And then, he's towing you to the mall restrooms.

════════════════════════════════════════════

TWO DAYS LATER.

You could never for the life of you understand why there had to be so many different types of fucking laundry detergent, and evidently, neither could Rue. But, then again. Rue wasn't quite there, to particularly understand it.

A low, mildly-surprised whistle, and both of you turned.

Nate pretended to busy himself and act like he was admiring the bottle of alcohol he was turning around meticulously in his hand, but you knew better.

"Fucking prick."

"What? Who?"

"The guy across the store who just pretended he didn't whistle at your ass. That guy."

"Who is he?"

"Nate Jacobs. Jock, so you know, that's the prick part."

"What? You're gonna give me the big-sister talk and warn me to stay away from him 'cause he's bad news?", you scoffed, allowing her to lead you the fuck away from this liability of a quarterback, to where a new array of indistinguishable laundry detergents sat.

"You just gave yourself that talk. Did she say Ultra Oxi or Ultra Matic?", she asked, screwing open the lid to take a sneaky whiff.

"What's the difference?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know? Okay, you know what? You ask her, and I'll go get Gia's soda and the baking powder for her birthday cake, yeah?"

You nodded, reaching into your pocket for your phone and looking down at it, rubbing the nape of your neck as you tried to get some signal.

"'Scuse me." A whisper. A lewd, firm squeeze of your waist (so tight it was impossible that no one else had noticed) as he moved behind you, pressing his chest against your spine.

You froze, and you were pretty sure he smirked.

Matter-of-factly, he flicked his index finger twice at the label "Ultra Oxi", before winking over his shoulder. "Make good choices, alright? You've been on a roll recently."

Fuck. Fuck. He'd remembered to taunt you, with your apparently Nate-Jacobs-hating cousin right there.

You moved back to Rue, a couple aisles over, your eyes glazed over.

Did you just get... groped? The aisles were small, maybe he really did need to hold you to move past you?

"I'm wingin' it.", you mutter.

She snorted. "Brave. But I was serious, that guy? He's a headcase." She nodded over to Nate again, who was across the store at the counter, reaching into his pocket to produce an ID from his wallet, presumably.

She said it like it's gossip, common sense, and a Pentagon-level secret all at the same time, and you're not sure how she's managing to achieve that.

"Why?"

"Where do I fucking start? He strangled his girlfriend."

"He fucking what?!"

The detergent nearly dropped from your hand, and she got a funny look on her face, like you were doing a little too much. "Yeah. Maddy Perez. I mean, she's fine, and the case was dropped 'cause someone else confessed, and there was an eyewitness, but h—"

"Rue!", you hissed. "Fuck, that's some mad unreliable storytelling, you know that? Fuck, I thought he did it."

"He did! He got someone to cover up for him, a whole fuckin' alibi, and shit.", she shrugged, giving the Chosen Baking Powder a triumphant, confirmatory tap. There was more she wasn't saying, and you were gonna prod it out of her.

"If the police accepted it, it's probably not without investigation.", you tried, but she just scoffed.

"He catfished my friend."

Uh-oh. It really must be bad if he got Rue to mention Train-Girl.

Sometimes, you wondered whether she was on more than just weed.

You thought this, then mentally shook it off, like... this was Rue you were talking about. Why would she even fucking lie to you?

She sniffed. "And then he blackmailed Jules with the nudes she sent him to testify as an eyewitness."

Jules? Oh, Jules. Train-Girl, aka, Jules.

"He's a fucking plague. I swear, I should get fucking gun and just go apeshit on his psycho ass."

'That won't bring Jules back', you don't say.

"Violent.", you remarked.

"Yeah, he is."

════════════════════════════════════════════

TWO DAYS LATER.

"Where the fuck were you, Rue?! You scared me half to fucking death!"

"I was at... the mall.", she groans from the passenger seat. You slap her face to bring her back a couple times, but it doesn't seem like it's fent that she's on. Thankfully.

"The mall or behind it with the trapper-junkies?", you mutter, slamming your hand down on the horn and flipping the guy off as you passed by him. "Stopping in the middle of the fucking road?! Are you fucking brainless?!"

Rue giggles from next to you and you're sure you're two seconds away from an aneurysm. "What's so fucking funny, Rue?! You're high on god-knows-what! You know how fucking dangerous that is?!"

"Who keeps texting you? It's like ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-"

You rap your fingers along the steering wheel. "Focus, Rue, fuck! How long does it take to wear off?"

"Like... five hours."

"FIVE HOURS?! We have lunch with our family, Rue, fuck! What are you gonna do?"

She continues giggling.

"Fuck, okay, uh...", you mumble, pressing a couple buttons on the car screen.

"Hello?"

"Lexi, I need you to do me a huge favour. Uh... can you man the phones at your place? If my aunt calls just say we're at lunch with you?"

"Uh, is everything o—"

"Yeah, yeah, just— please just do it, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

"Thanks."

You shut the phone off before glaring at her, still giggling next to you. "You fucking happy? Everyone doing your fucking dirty work to cover for your ass?!"

"Please, this is just you relapsing on your stupid I'm-the-nice-sweet-cousin bullshit! You probably hope I flatline so you have a sob story to tell."

"What? I do care, Rue!"

"I thought you grew out of your obsessed-with-me-all-the-fucking-time-phase from when you were six! I don't fucking like you, and really, neither do Mom or Gia! They just need a babysitter for me! Fuck, you can't be related to people without them clinging onto you!"

You glare at her. Oh, fuck her.

"You mean that? Or are you just high?"

"High words are sober thoughts, lil' sis. Gimme a fucking break."

Silence.

"Alright, get the fuck out. Get the fuck out. Go call your fucking sponsor. Go."

"You're such a baby!"

You scoff, driving away for a moment before you actually called Ali. You're not that cruel. "Hello, um, Rue's—"

"Yeah, I know. I saw. I was driving by. I got her, she's in my car right now."

"Thank you."

You groan, your forehead on the steering wheel. You really shouldn't be this sensitive, the world will eat you up alive, but when someone you look up to— fuck! She was right, who the fuck keeps texting you?

Picking up your phone, you squint to look at whatever fucking notifications you were receiving, that were apparently life threatening, seeing their frequency.

Nate.

🔗?

You're about to - about to - just block him and throw your phone out the car with how frustrated you are, but then an evil thought permeates through your brain.

Evil, and petty.

Rue thinks you're constantly seeking her approval? Clinging onto her?

Oh, you'll be clinging onto her worst enemy's dick, alright.

════════════════════════════════════════════

The ding comes as Nate pants in your ear for what's the third time in this whole week, you might have a serious problem with how far you take your pettiness, but that's a conversation for another time , and his arm immediately shoots out to pin your wrist to the bed, his other hand's grip faltering on your calf as it slips from his hip. "No, no. Don't even think about it.", he grumbles, trying to shut you up with speed instead of words.

A follow-up ding.

"It could be Rue.", you reason, and he shakes his head, covering your mouth as he keeps going.

"Come on, Nate.", you mumble out from beneath his palm.

He huffs, but finally relents, continuing his kissing at your shoulder. "Rue's such a fucking cockblock, I swear.", he grumbles against your skin, among other things, most of which you don't hear thanks to your focus on your screen.

Pick up

It's about Rue

Unknown number.

"Hey, hey— one sec, man, I need to make a phone call."

"Are you fucking kidding me?", he scoffs, rolling off you to let you sit up and bunch the covers over your chest with one hand as you type out a 'K'.

A phone call almost instantaneously.

You pick up immediately, pressing the phone desperately to your ear. "Hello?"

"Yo, uh, I'm Fezco, you don't know me. Look, your cousin's been — I don't even know where, but she's coming here in about a half hour, and you need to come pick her up right now, alright? I'm not shitting you."

"Is she okay?"

"I don't know, man, she just told me she's on her way, I don't— I don't know. You're her emergency number, I think? She said sm'n like that to me a couple weeks ago."

"Alright, can you text me the address?"

"Yeah. Hey, man, look, half an hour, alright? You come earlier, she'll figure out something's off and bolt."

"Yeah, I know. Thank you."

The call ends, and your hands drop your phone to your lap, in favor of pressing the heels of your palms onto your eyes. "Fuckfuckfuck.", you mumble.

"What? Yo, hey, what happened? She okay?"

You flop back onto the bed with a slight thud, burying your face in your hands as you shook your head. "She snuck out. I thought she was home. Some guy just called me to come pick her up, but he doesn't even know where she's coming from."

You had to go?! Leaving him here with a fucking semi? Oh, Rue was fucking up his life even when she didn't know it. Fuck.

"But wait! Wait, but you're going?"

You scoff, reaching for your shirt to yank over your bra, gesturing at him for the rest of your clothes. He almost looks like he's going to withhold it, but by some stroke of luck, he hands it over to you.

"You're going to an address sent to you by some guy you don't know, because he says your cousin might be there? Ted Bundy woulda loved your ass."

See, what had started as a drunk hookup to a sort of poetic justice type thing against Rue ended with him genuinely liking your company. And that's what scared him. Because everytime he got close with a girl? Bam. Brainwashed to hate him. Like, what was up with that?

Thankfully, though, although it was evident Rue'd said some shit to you that day in the grocery store, you didn't seem to - at least to his knowledge - have taken that to heart. So... yay?

"If I go missing, you know some Fezco guy is the reason.", you snort, as you tug on your socks.

"Fezco? Oh. Oh, he's legit, don't worry." He inhales, rubbing a hand over his face for a minute before nodding. "He's a dealer."

"Of course he is."

════════════════════════════════════════════

30th of December.

"You—", he cuts himself off with a scoff of incredulity, cocking his head and furrowing his brows at you in such a cartoonish way, you almost laugh. He stops running his knuckles down your elbow for a moment, shaking his head. "What the fuck do you mean you won't be here for New Year's?"

"I just won't. I have school, don't I? Gotta get back home? And of course, Times Square New Year's is the best."

"You gonna tell me what happened? Is she good?"

"Like you care if she's good. You two hate each other."

"Mm.", he hums, gnawing on his lower lip, before kissing your wrist. "You guys are close, huh?"

"Oh, fuck off."

He grins. He knew you'd be onto him in a flash.

Laughing, he tugs you closer, into his chest. "Opening up to me isn't going to magically make us 'a thing', if that's what you're worried about. In fact, this is like you venting to a wall with ears. And a big dick. I'll throw in a 'mm, that sucks' every two minutes, too, if you want."

You chuckle tiredly, and he nudges your shoulder. "Come on."

"I just, y'know, she's not sober. Not even nearly, and I feel like a cunt for not telling Aunt Leslie, but it's just gonna cause a blow-up, and I don't wan—"

"You don't wanna cause a rift."

"Exactly! And I also, like, looked up to her a ton or whatever, growing up, and um... she's, like. She doesn't like me even a quarter as much as I like her, and it feels like we're not..."

"Not what?"

"Like, not even familly. Like I'm a personal assistant or, like, an afterthought, basically."

He sighs, moving some hair off your shoulder so he could nuzzle his nose into it. "So what are you going to do?"

"Nothing. Keep fucking her mortal enemy, I guess."

"Good choice."

A pause.

"Rue's a nice girl.", he says.

He's actively formulating a response to the fucking allegations Rue told you about him, and he figures he should play it how she'd least expect it. Instead of fuelling your annoyance at her and using it to his advantage (predictable and boring) , make himself seem like the bigger person. "She just... gets carried away sometimes."

"What?"

"Like, with what she said to you. About me.", he mutters, kissing up your cheek.

"You didn't strangle your girlfriend?"

"No. And there's police records to prove it. The guy turned himself in."

"Yeah, she said you blackmailed her friend Jules—"

"Oh, fuck. Jules? Look, again... we don't know each other that well, but she seems... she's a liar, alright? She likes to play the victim, and maybe there's a psychological reason for that, I dunno."

Well, fair, you reckon. That couldn't be too far from the truth, because this bitch had told Rue she'd loved her and she'd be there for her, then taken off in a train and left her to relapse.

He sees you mulling this over. Fucking score. Gently turning you to face him, he raises a brow. "What?"

"She said you catfished Jules and used her nudes to blackmail her into being an eyewitness."

He tries his best to scoff at that and maintain a hurt expression on his face, and he hopes he hasn't overdone it. "I was dating my ex, Maddy the whole time that was even supposedly "happening ". I had no dating apps, and you can check my phone, my drawers, and even my brain. I've never catfished anyone."

Technically, that's true. Catfishing implies that he used a face that wasn't his, or described himself different to what he actually was. He technically didn't show a face and didn't do the latter, either.

"It's all bullshit?"

"Yeah. Jules is... she's troubled. Y'know? First time I met her, she tried to cut me with a kitchen knife, then cut herself and stormed off. I don't even fucking know why."

"She what?!"

He smiles, sadly. "Yeah. Weird, right? I asked her who she was, because this party was my best friend's, and we're not going to have randos come in and fuck up his home. And she just went batshit."

He likes how this is going. He looks like the bigger person, and Jules gets shit on. "And Rue just trusts too easily. So, when Jules found her, I guess... she found someone willing to listen to her bullshit."

Rage consumes you. Fuck Train-Girl.

"I like you. You're willing to listen to both sides of the story. It's rare."

That's his final play. Make you look like the bigger person, too. So you're both 'bigger people' and you subconsciously look at the two of you as a team, and— fuck, he was so happy right now.

"What did Fezco say about me?"

You raise an incredulous brow. "Nothing. Wh— do you have beef with everyone?"

He laughs at that, his cheek resting on your shoulder, now. "Nah, nah, I got no beef. I'm a Nobel Peace prize candidate, on god."

You roll your eyes, aimlessly scrolling on your phone. He watches your feed roll by. More sunsets. More memes.

"We should date." It's not even a statement, let alone a question. It's a declaration, and it unnerves you. "I'm serious. I like you, genuinely. We're similar. The sex is phenomenal."

"And plus, it's fate. Right?" He's scrolling on your phone for you, now, chin in the crook of your neck as your relatively lame social media feed runs past his eyes.

"Listen, if you want a scholarship, you can just ask, I can give my Dad your tapes—"

"Oh, please, I could get into that college with my grades alone. I'm just saying. We're compatible. People fuck us over and we fuck them over back.", he retorts, moving to your camera roll and leaving little to no room for protest, with the way he's firing these words at you.

He's satisfied, relieved, even, with the contents of your camera roll. Flowers and sunsets and you and your family, some girlfriends, no nudes. Not bad.

"How do you figure?", you ask, turning to frown at him to show him how fucking peeved this invasion of privacy made you, but he pays you no mind, as he grabs your jaw, thumb navigating to the camera app.

"We're both technically fucking to get back at Rue."

He kisses your cheek and takes a photo.

"Yeah, but— hey, whoa."

"Would you angry-fuck me if I just...?", he muses, holding your phone out of reach as he makes a show of hovering his thumb dangerously close to Rue's contact.

"No! Nate, I'm not fucking with you! Stop!"

He just chuckles as he shakes his head, safely navigating to his own contact before pressing send.

Fuck. He sure knew how to terrify people to their fucking bones.

"Date me.", he has the audacity to suggest.

"You're an asshole."

"Date me anyway."

"Are you crazy?"

"Hey, you fucked me. Why not make it a regular thing? Exclusive, too, if you behave.", he teases.

You snort. "You're a trip."

"Is that a yes?"

"No, fuck you."

"Oh, come on. Date me, why not? Is it the long-distance? Is it the football player / daughter of a college scout thing? 'Cause, as I said, I don't care about that second-rate college. No offence."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not gonna—"

"No? You're not gonna date me?", he questions, tilting his head almost pitifully.

"I just... I don't think I'm at the right... like, place for it." Okay, he was starting to freak you out just a little bit.

"Mm." It was an 'mm' of derision. Like he didn't quite believe you, or worse. Like he believed you, but it wasn't satisfactory enough for him. Disappointing. Not emotional enough. Not enough of a reason.

"What?"

He raises a brow, as if giving you a chance to reconsider. "You sure?"

"That I'm not at the right place for a relationship- yeah, I am." Alright, he sounded scary now, not freaky. What the fuck was he...?

He shakes his head, sighing. "God.", he tuts, holding you tighter against his chest. You don't notice this at first, but one of his arms is enough to restrict both of yours. And then, he's scrolling his phone, periodically checking to see that your gaze was following his movements.

"This is our chat.", he informs, like you don't have fucking eyes. "And this is my favourite picture of us."

"Favourite and only."

"Yeah.", he nods, his lips now glued to your temple, forceful enough to slightly push at your head a little. "Will you date me?"

"I just told you I can't really— you okay, man? You— I'm not trying to make you mad."

"I'm not mad, I'm kissing you, how can I be mad?"

Okay, yeah, that tracks. You nod.

The picture's downloaded. He sprints over to his camera roll to check that it is. And then, he moves to SMS. And there's only one person you can think of that's blocked him everywhere but SMS.

And then, you're struggling to move from his grasp, but his hand just presses your arms further into your own chest as he sends it.

"NO! What the FUCK?!"

He grins as your phone immediately dings with about twenty fucking notifications. "It could be Rue.", he parrots, the exact same tone as when you'd said it before the whole Fezco ordeal.

He's a fucking bastard. Of course it's fucking Rue.

"How are you ever gonna look Rue in the eye again?", he asks with mock concern, and it's a valid question.

How were you gonna look her in the eye again?

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deanthomaswhore · 2 months ago

Text

SPLIT | JJK

banner by the gorgeous @runariya <3

[pairing] baby daddy jk x ex gf reader

[teaser content] sfw, 1.5k words, 26 jk | 25 yn (i think? haven't read back in a while, will fix this later if i'm wrong), separated parents w shared custody, they’re still besties, but jk wants the resties, jk comes over to pickup baby, cursing, a tiny argument, they're cute i promise

[6:59PM] You Kook, Ji is reallyy sleepy already Is it okay if I give her a nap before you get here or do you want me to keep her awake?

[7:01PM] JK Hi love, I’m around the corner. Let her sleep. I’ll stay for a bit before I take her home? Sent with Siri

You rolled your eyes as you read his response, but you weren’t surprised. The agreed pick-up time for Jiyeon was 8pm on weekdays, but somehow Jungkook kept showing up earlier and earlier. You’d offered to adjust the time if 8 o’clock was too late, considering you had Jiyeon all to yourself for four and a bit days of the week while he barely got three. But he always declined, and you still weren’t sure why.

“Come on, baby girl. You can lay down in your bed for a bit, huh?” you cooed, gently poking Jiyeon’s tummy. Her sleepy eyes, which had just fluttered shut, snapped open with a tired whine. She turned further into the couch, trying to go back to sleep. You chuckled at your pouty girl before scooping her up, letting her snuggle into your neck.

“Appa will be here soon. You can have a little rest until then, hm?” you whispered softly. Jiyeon nodded, her little face burrowing deeper into the crook of your neck. By the time you reached her room, her breathing had already evened out.

You gently tucked Jiyeon into her bed, brushing a stray hair from her face and kissing her soft forehead before flicking on her night light and turning off the main room light. The door creaked quietly as you closed it most of the way, careful not to let it click shut — she didn’t like that. You padded back to the living room, spotting the scattered teddies on the floor. You quickly scooped them up, plopping them onto the couch before flopping down yourself.

Grabbing the remote, you turned the TV volume down low, flicking through Netflix until you settled on an episode of Modern Family. You were just about to press play when the familiar sound of keys rattling in the doorknob caught your attention.

Jungkook slipped in quietly, toeing off his shoes by the mat before locking the door behind him. Your head tilted as you took in his outfit — Adidas shorts and a jogger jacket, his hair still slightly damp from a shower or maybe sweat.

"Did you run here?" you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips.

He just rolled his eyes, closing the distance between you. You leaned your head back against the couch, fully expecting it, and he planted a kiss on your forehead, as usual. Then, cheekily, he dipped down to press a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away too fast for you to swat at him.

"What happened to ‘hi, baby, how are you?’" he sighed dramatically, heading toward Jiyeon’s room.

"Hmm, I think that greeting got revoked when we ended things two years ago? Not sure though..." you replied sarcastically, pulling your knees up onto the couch and resuming your episode of Modern Family.

Jungkook came back into the living room after giving Jiyeon’s chubby cheeks a dozen kisses. “You mean when you ended things?” He narrowed his eyes playfully as he flopped down beside you, twisting your body around and pulling your legs to rest over his lap. You didn’t flinch, still focused on Cam and Mitchell’s argument on screen.

When you didn’t respond, he pouted, his fingers drumming lightly on your bare thighs, toying with the hem of your pajama shorts. That got your attention.

You turned your head to him slowly, blinking. He was staring at your thighs, clearly feeling your gaze but refusing to look up, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t start this again, J,” you warned, eyes narrowing. “Or you can go sit in the hall until 8 o’clock.”

"Done it before," he shrugged, unbothered, catching your foot with his hand when you tried to poke him with it, rubbing his thumbs over your heel in slow, firm circles.

Your body instantly relaxed, a soft grunt slipping from your lips as his long fingers massaged into your skin. “Nevermind, keep doing that, and you can stay,” you sighed, your head falling to the side to rest into the couch.

Jungkook smiled in satisfaction, his hand sliding up to your thigh to tug you down a bit more, adjusting you so you could use the armrest as a pillow while he had more access to your feet. His thumbs pressed into the arch of your foot, working out the tension, and you couldn’t help but hum in approval.

"Always finding reasons for me to stay, huh?" he teased, his eyes flicking to yours briefly before focusing back on your legs. His touch softened, more deliberate, as his thumbs moved over your skin. You rolled your eyes, but the soft smile tugging at your lips didn’t go unnoticed.

For a few peaceful minutes, you watched his tattooed hands gently rub over your right foot, the tension slowly fading under his careful attention. When he switched to your left foot, you broke the silence. "What are you guys going to do tomorrow?"

Jungkook just chuckled softly, continuing his ministrations. You waited, but when he didn’t respond, your eyebrows furrowed. "What?" you asked.

His hands faltered for a moment, and he looked up at you, his dark eyes scanning your face before his brows knitted together. "What?" he echoed, clearly confused.

You blinked, now just as confused. "Why are you being weird? What are you guys doing tomorrow?" A small, uncertain laugh slipped out of you.

Jungkook let your foot fall into his lap as his lips pulled to the side, eyes drifting to the floor for a second before flicking back to you. "The beach? Like we planned? Me, you, and Ji?"

You immediately sat up, your eyes widening. "Uh, what?" You huffed, trying to keep your voice low but failing. "No, that's Sunday. You told me Sunday, Jungkook."

His face pulled back, a mix of disbelief and annoyance flashing in his eyes. "No, I didn't," he scoffed, a hand lifting to run through his hair. "I told you Saturday because Sunday Jiyeon and I are going over to my mom's."

You shook your head in disbelief, letting out a frustrated scoff as you searched for your phone. You spotted it half under his butt, yanking it out from beneath him and hastily unlocking it. "What's the big deal?" Jungkook sighed, watching you scroll through your messages. "Can't we just do it tomorrow?"

"No, Jungkook," you snapped, shooting him a glare. "I have plans. I've cancelled three weeks in a row already, I can’t do that again—"

"Jesus." Jungkook let out a dry, humorless laugh, rolling his eyes as his head dropped back against the couch. "Of course you're ditching the day with us for that fucking loser from work."

Your fingers froze over the screen, your head snapping toward him, fury flaring in your eyes. "Excuse me?" you said, your laugh sharp with disbelief. "Ditch the day with you? Did you miss the part where I said I've cancelled three weeks in a row already? For you?! And he's not a loser, you asshole. He's a nice guy—"

"Yeah, real nice guy who’s been trying to be Jiyeon’s step-daddy for over a year," Jungkook scoffed.

"My god, you’re such an asshole," you muttered, shaking your head as you unlocked your phone and started scrolling through your texts again.

"Said that already," he mumbled, leaning his head back against the couch, watching you patiently.

"Shut the—" You froze mid-sentence, your eyes landing on the texts from last week.

Mother fucker.

[9:47PM] JK Yeah she’s asleep now love. So cutee she wanted a double scoop and she was doing so well

[9:48PM] You Doing so well until...?

[9:48PM] JK Until she threw up all over Jimin hyung lolll it was fucking adorable

[9:49PM] You Hahahahah oh my goddd did you take any photos??

[9:49PM] JK No, I was pissing myself hahaha fuckk

[9:50PM] You 💔💔💔

[9:51PM] JK Love, we walked past the beach on our way home, and it was getting dark, but Ji really wanted to go Only way I could get her to stop pouting was to tell her we’d go back with you next week

[9:52PM] You Stop pimping me out or I’m going to start charging you

[9:52PM] JK How much??

[9:53PM] You Shut up What day?

[9:53PM] JK Saturday xx I'll make us a cute lunch

[9:54PM] You Kimbap?

[9:54PM] JK Uh huh

[9:54PM] You Kay Can you and Ji facetime me in the morning?

[9:55PM] JK We can

[9:55PM] You Thank youu Going to sleep now love you

[9:56PM] JK Love you more baby, sleep well xx

taglist

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deanthomaswhore · 2 months ago

Text

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . pov!jk . ۫ ꣑ৎ . — [ 6 . ] green eyed boy

series m.list // taglist unavailable

friends to ???

slow burn

slight jealousy vibes, (ft jaemin,, everyone say hi to jaemin), misa is suspicious

note: jus vibes lol

misa has a theory.

she doesn’t say it out loud—not in so many words—but you feel it in the way she keeps watching you. like she’s collecting data.. which is probably why you’re currently slumped over a too-bright brunch table, nursing a hangover, while she bats her lashes across from you with jin beside her and a stranger sitting in the seat misa very intentionally didn’t let you choose.

he’s cute, sure.

he has kind eyes and a nice voice. he tells you he works in design, and you nod politely while trying not to throw up your mimosa. misa keeps shooting you encouraging glances. it’s subtle, but it’s there—the way she leans in when the guy asks about your weekend, like she’s waiting to see if you’ll say jungkook’s name.

you don’t.

you barely get two sips into your drink before the bell over the café door jingles.

you don’t look up.you don’t have to.

you hear him first—his laugh, low and familiar. then, a second voice:

“damn. she is on a date.”

when you do look, jungkook’s already halfway to your table, a bottle of painkillers in hand. he drops it in front of you casually, like he just remembered.

“figured you’d forget,” he says, not even glancing at misa’s new recruit. “you always forget when you drink tequila.”

your headache pulses in time with your heartbeat… most of all, you hate how much softer it feels just having him here.

“you’re welcome, by the way,” misa says, narrowing her eyes as jungkook slides into the seat beside you. “for the company.”

“oh, we came for the show,” taehyung says as he drops into a chair. hoseok follows, grinning, mouthing hot girl brunch at you like a curse. meanwhile, jungkook just shrugs. there’s not much written on his face and it irks misa. although, she misses the way his arm brushes yours when he leans back.

“so this is the guy you’ve been dodging for a month?”

you shoot misa a look. she blinks innocently.

jin tries not to laugh into his juice.

“he’s nice,” you say, which isn’t untrue. just… incomplete.

you try to listen while the guy talks—he’s telling jungkook something about his job, asking about you, the normal things. but your head is throbbing and your coffee tastes wrong. you grimace after the first sip and set it back down.

jungkook notices.

without a word, he nudges his drink toward you and pulls yours toward him instead. when you blink at him, he doesn’t even look up.

“no hot coffee after a night out,” he says. “makes you nauseous.”

“right,” you murmur. you try not to feel anything about that.

the guy across from you is still smiling, still trying. he’s sweet.

you feel kind of bad. but when your food arrives and you reach for your hashbrowns, jungkook plucks them off your plate and swaps them with the fruit bowl from his.

“what the heck,” you say, mouth half-full. “i need that grease.”

he finally looks at you then—really looks. eyes still tired from the night before, hair tucked into a hoodie like he couldn’t be bothered to brush it.

“you’ll feel sick all day,” he says, quiet. “eat your fruit.”

you pout. “you owe me hashbrowns.”

he shrugs. “sure. okay.”

misa stares at both of you like she’s trying to read subtitles only she can see. when you glance at her, she’s already looking away.

the brunch lasts forever.

people finish their food. someone brings up a new movie. you feel jungkook’s knee bump yours once, then again. you don’t move. eventually, everyone makes plans to watch a movie. you opt out due to your hangover. jungkook doesn’t say anything and misa slumps as his silence confuses her more than it confuses you. once the bill is paid and everyone is getting their outerwear on, he offers to walk you home.

there’s a beat.

you glance at jungkook.

he doesn’t say anything right away. just leans back in his chair and looks at you like he already knows the answer.

“i can drive her.”

your breath catches. misa’s eyes ping between the two of you like she’s watching a tennis match. her face lights up, loving the way jungkook stepped in. what will he do next? confess? have a jealous fit? will his brown eyes turn green?

you blink at him.

and before you even realize it, you’re declining jungkook’s offer.

maybe it’s because everyone is watching. maybe it’s because you don’t want to embarrass jaemin… and maybe—quietly, selfishly—it’s because jungkook is still jungkook.

“i think i’ll walk,” you say, carefully. “fresh air sounds nice.”

there’s a brief pause. not long enough to be awkward, but long enough for jungkook to hear what you don’t say.

with that, jaemin says his goodbyes kindly, shaking hands with jin, thanking misa. he even tells the others it was nice to meet them, and it doesn’t come off as forced. you offer a small smile when he gently places a hand on the small of your back as you move to leave.

he shakes jungkook’s hand last. and jungkook—because he’s jungkook—gives nothing away. his expression is unreadable, his grip firm and short.

you don’t look back.

not at him. not at misa.

and that, misa thinks, that should be the end of it. either way, she wins, right? she set you up with someone…

but something makes her glance toward jungkook.

he’s still in his seat. doesn’t move. doesn’t speak. there’s no shift in his body. no clench of the jaw. no sigh. nothing notable.except—

his eyes.

they’re still on the door.

they linger.

misa swallows, suddenly uncertain.

all this time—every glance, every quiet moment, every excuse to stand next to each other, the way jungkook always knew when to step in, to tease, to pull you aside—had it been… something?

or was she just imagining it?

she chews the inside of her cheek. watches jungkook finally look away, lift his glass like nothing happened.

defeated, misa sighs.

her theory?

inconclusive.

still—something pulls at her.

if there’s something between you and jungkook, it’s not a fire. not yet.

it’s sunlight. low and steady. the kind that settles into your skin before you realize it’s been too long.

misa’s not sure what scares her more—that you don’t feel it yet or that you do.

a sunburn.

as jaemin walks you home, you realize he’s actually pretty charming. he’s funny in ways you didn’t expect him to be. it’s not enough to get you to laugh, but he earns a few chuckles out of you. jaemin is simple and clear. once you two reach your place, you give him a tight hug.

jaemin leaves with a wave and a ‘text me sometime,’ which you probably won’t.

… and he knows that too.

you sigh, feeling a weight being lifted off your shoulders the minute he turns the corner and is out of sight. for a moment, you think that’s it—until you spot the car parked across the street from your building.

jungkook’s leaning against the driver’s side door like he’s anchoring himself there—hoodie up, hands in his pockets, jaw tight. he looks up as you approach, eyes meeting yours through the low light, and something in his expression falters.

just for a second.

you stop in front of him.

his posture doesn’t change, but the way he looks at you does—he takes you in like he’s been holding his breath. like maybe he regrets letting you walk away at all. then he straightens, slow, steps forward like he’s moving through water. his hands find your waist—tentative, warm. not a grab. just a quiet hold, like he’s trying to steady himself.

or maybe you.

“how was your walk?” he asks, voice low and strained.

your lip quirks. “good. lacked the beach view and some romantic music playing in the background, but hey… there’s always next time, right?”

his grip tightens just slightly. not enough to hurt, just enough to say something. his eyes flicker—not quite a glare, but not relaxed either.

“you want romantic now?”

his tone is light, but it doesn’t sound like a joke. it sounds like something sharp, buried in softness.

you roll your eyes, deflecting the tension like it’s second nature. “wasn’t aware i had options.”

that lands.

his jaw ticks.

you almost miss it.

the silence stretches thin between you. neither of you move. but after a moment or two, you finally step back, and he lets you go—reluctantly. his hands drop to his sides, fingers twitching like they don’t know what to do now.

you walk toward your door. you don’t look back.

he follows anyway.

you glance over your shoulder, voice quiet. “what are you doing here?”

you expect a smirk, a joke, something stupid and evasive… but jungkook just stands there, blinking like you hit him in the chest.

a moment passes and it’s filled with silence. you turn to face him fully.

lifting his head, he looks at you like he’s trying to figure it out himself. like he didn’t plan to be here. like he saw you walk away with someone else and followed without thinking. like his body made the decision before his brain could stop it.

and you—god, you don’t know what to do with him like this. with this version of him. unsure. unscripted. undone, almost.

he exhales through his nose. runs a hand over his mouth.

“i wasn’t crazy about him taking you home. didn’t know what it meant to you.”

you stare. for a split second, you swear his brown eyes turn green.

you push it. you push him—your green eyed boy.

“what does it matter if it means something to me?”

“it matters.”

“and this?”

you pause.

“what about this?”

“you.”

“what about me?” jungkook tilts his head at you, trying to play it off as confusion... but he isn't confused. at least, not right now.

your fingers tighten around your keys as you unlock the door. holding it open, you ask him;

“what does this mean to you?”

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