lilyrachelcassidy

[lilyrachelcassidy]

officially upgrading this piece to one of my fav fics ever. you cannot even imagine how my fangirling ass devoured this work at 4am, which was two hours before my alarm for work. but this, this was so worth my sleeplessly dead state the following day.

please. more.

love love love this; love love love u

𝕏𝕆𝕏𝕆, 𝔽𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕩.

Felix Catton + fem!reader. Warnings : Cussing. Drugs. Long.

My other Felix fics, if you have the time.

happy v-day💌

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

Desc. : You don't want to fix him, but you do, anyway.

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Okay, okay, so he beat someone up on campus, so fucking what?

It's called being a good fucking person. Look, you do not let some utter chav get away with cat-calling a girl in the middle of the dining hall, and then a frat party, where she might have been roofied if she'd have been dumber (thank god she wasn't), and in a fucking library, just because she couldn't cause a scene. Three strikes and he was out.

But apparently, so was Felix.

"No, Sir, I'm telling you, he was--'

"Professor Walker."

Professor. Asshole. "Professor. I apologise. Professor, I'm telling you, he was being absolutely dodgy!"

"Mr. Catton, I'd advise you to stay calm--"

His fist slammed on the table, the pens on this useless waste of a PhD's desk bouncing, seemingly in tune with Felix's blood pressure. "YOU are a philosophy professor, yeah? Don't bloody talk about practical shite to me, and don't tell me what to do about what happens in the real world, when your whole career is telling people to overthink everything and keep their heads in the clouds!"

Uh, whoops.

His adrenaline shot down as fast as it had shot up and all of a sudden, he was acutely aware of his ranking in this shithole.

Student.

He's lucky he wasn't expelled.

Because the philosophy 'professor' said "young minds often reject new ideas".

Figures.

He got let off with a warning, an extremely disappointed voicemail from his mother (Felix, dear, you know philosophy was my major, that was a horrid joke to make), to sit in on one month's worth of philosophy lectures - surprisingly, without charge - and a mandatory weekly anger management session for the rest of the academic year.

That last bit was what he was most chagrined about.

He did not need a bloody shrink. GOD. He was fine. He just couldn't handle the philosophy 'professor' telling him to 'stay calm' when he was perfectly calm. Maybe he knew that would set him off. Any class with Felix in it is sure to get more listeners. So maybe it was this Professor Walker mooching off his campus-wide popularity.

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Having to miss classes wasn't exactly on your bucket list, but your body was far less used to Oxford winters than you'd expected, and so the flu decided to scrape a week off your lectures. You made up for it, though, being a swot on your first free week of Uni, and not needing to catch up on much.

However, there was definitely no chance your professor took too kindly to your absence, seeing as psychology was your major, and she expected you to be there, rain, hail or shine. Star student, you were not, but the only one taking it seriously, you were.

So here you were, sitting in front of her as she regarded you. "You need extra credit."

"Yes, Professor."

"Your career path?"

"Uh... undecided."

"Career focus?"

"Psychology.' That, you knew.

She hummed, shaking a packet of sugar before ripping the corner. You watched the tiny, crystalline cubes get engulfed by the brown of her coffee.

"You should try going into therapy."

For a moment, you almost chewed her head off.

"As a career.", she clarified, almost snorting as she saw your expression. "You interact well with people, and you have a good grasp on the subject." Ah. Say that properly, bitch.

"Here's what I'll do.", she declared, taking a large sip of her coffee - you were almost 90% sure she'd made it Irish earlier - before sliding a small, stapled pile of papers over to you. "I'll give you all the tools you'll need. See if you can get them memorized and come back for a solo quiz later this week. Then, you can begin conducting."

Conducting?

You skimmed your eyes over the stack of paper. Weekly mandatory anger management sessions. Split second, and you thought it was for you, because maybe she had heard you mentally call her a bitch.

"An extremely hardworking and well-scoring student recently got into an altercation on campus, on grounds.", she explained, and you nodded, your eyes not leaving the stack of paper.

'Conducted by' : blank. You supposed that's where you were supposed to sign.

"Although we have a strict policy against harrasment and conflict, none of the three parties involved has openly stated discrimination. The only solid thing the university has got is a confession from the initiator and witnesses from the side of the victim. But given his clean record so far, we have resorted to only this. Sessions to contain any such future outbursts."

Who even was this kid, and why was he your form of extra credit? "But I'd be using him as a lab rat, basically."

"Come again?"

"I'm not qualified or licensed to conduct these sessions, so I don't think--"

She waved you off, the bint. "It's a mere formality, no need to put stock into it. That's not to say you can slack off, half-arse it, either, but he's had no history of violence and is known to be a relatively good-tempered student."

Then why the fuck?

"We figure he can be let off easy - we'd never take sides, so this is off the record, but he was justified - and you can get extra credit, and the victim can be appeased. Quiet and a win-win-win."

The coffee now completely drained, she watched you think it over while staring blankly at the space in which you needed to sign your name. Inhaling deeply, she leaned over, gently prying it from you and flipping the page. "This bit, very important. Sort of like an NDA. No, maybe... an ANS. Agreement Not to Sue. But less official."

"This looks more like summat he should be signing. Basically, since I'm not a licensed therapist, if he doesn't get better, or gets more fucked, the Uni isn't to blame?"

"You need to sign it, too. You'll have to record the sessions, as well."

"So you know I'm not 'half-arsing' it?"

"So we know he's coming to them. But yeah. That too.", she smiled, tilting her head. "You in?"

Well, yeah, you kind of had to be, seeing as she cut marks for your absences out of sheer fucking spite.

You nodded and so did she. "Brilliant! Sign here."

Scrawling your sign - that you came up with in the eighth grade instead of fucking having fun like a kid - on the blank spots her manicured nail hovered over, you bit the inside of your cheek. Was it weird that they weren't telling you who it was?

Was it weird that the sheet had been blank when it was brought to you, meaning whoever this bloke was, he had no clue what was coming?

Uh huh. Yeah.

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"A student?! A first year fucking student? I'm getting a kid-shrink?"

"It's a mere formality. Given your record, we're sure you don't even require these sessions--"

"Professor! Come on! Can't we just say I took them?"

It's quite interesting how chill a philosophy professor can actually be once you get to know them personally. And Walker was cool, as Felix had come to find out in the past couple days of knowing him.

"Afraid not. But I'm sure she's been adequately trained by the psychology in-charge to handle these sessions."

"Why can't the in-charge do it? Would actually do summat!"

"She's busy."

He scoffed as he was handed a stapled stack of papers. "What's this, then?"

"Read it."

He did, for a while, before looking up at him with raised eyebrows. "What is this, a Liability Waiver for if she bollockses my mental health by accident?"

"More or less."

Sweet lord. "Oh, fantastic, so I'm a scapegoat, a trial for this first year, am I? See if counselling is her 'thing'?"

"You know, a more positive attitude towards this, and you might not have to go the whole year.'

"What, sayin' she'll give up?"

Walker looked almost amused, snorting. "No. I'm saying you might actually get a solution for your rage issues."

"I don't have--'

"You could learn a thing or two, Felix. Learn to calm your temper - no matter how non-existent you claim it to be - and learn how to be happier."

"Brilliant. A first year is going to teach me about the joys of non-reactivity, then? Brilliant. We'll see her keep her temper when a girl's being near groped in front of her, hm?"

"We'll need to have you sign there and there and twice on the last page, please."

"She got this before me?", he muttered, glaring at the signatures already present on the pages. "So she got to decide whether she wants to deal with me, not the other way around!? Unbelievable."

"Sign, please, Felix."

He grumbled under his breath, attempting to recall whether he'd ever even heard your name before, as he messily signed something that was probably not his signature, on each page. He has no clue what his signature is. He figured he'd sort it out when he takes over the family estate (or business), or whatever.

"None of these look the same."

"Well, this is hardly official is it? 'S long as my name's there, it's not a problem, yeah?"

"You're gonna give me a migraine before my first week as your student advisor.", he muttered, accepting the sheets back anyway. "Okay, good. Sessions start Saturday."

Fucking spectacular, now this girl was taking his weekends away.

WEEK 1

Your pen twirled between your fingers and the inside of your cheek practically split open with how frequently you'd been resorting to chewing on it lately.

You'd passed the solo quiz that your professor had set up for you, and she'd declared you 'adequately trained' to take these sessions.

Okay? And? What, were you supposed to jump in joy?

Late. This arsehole, 'Felix Catton' was his name. You just... try as you might, you couldn't place a face to the familiar name. And that face was almost ten minutes late.

But one thing you would not do is get up and leave until the hour was up. Work ethic. Wait till the last moment. With any luck, he wouldn't show up at all, and you could complain, and get extra credit some other way--

The door exploded open, and shuffling, throwing-off of a coat and grumbled-settling-down was heard, as you looked up from your notes.

"You're the first year, then?"

Oh, THIS GUY?! Whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, you remembered him!

You nodded. "Yes. Uh, just a second, Mr. Catton.", you muttered, angling the video camera right, ignoring the scoff it elicited from the junior.

"I'm two years older than you."

"What would you like me to call you?" That plug from the Christmas party who tried to overcharge me?

He watched you fiddling with the device for a bit before sitting up, one leg crossed over another as he huffed, playing with his rings. "Felix is fine."

"Felix it is, then.", you mumbled, finally getting the thing to work, before clearing your throat and sitting up. Here we go. "So, Felix.", you began, trying to smile off the awkwardness. "We're here to just go through these Uni-mandated sessions, so that you may have an insight into conflict resolution and--"

"Do you wanna know why I'm here in this bloody session?"

You glanced over to the camera for a second, feeling like you were in a fucking Office episode, before nodding, gesturing at him to continue. Fuck, if this shite went on the record and he said summat so unbelievably stupid you were at a loss for words, you could kiss your extra credit goodbye.

"I punched a lad. Hard, till his nose bled and he couldn't stand up without support."

You nodded, flicking through the file of information you'd received from some advisor of his, Professor Walker. Nice chap. "Yes, I see that. How does that make you feel? Did it make you feel powerful?"

"Mhm.", he hummed, nodding as he glared at you, a sort of smirk on his face, like he thought this would have you freaking out about his sadistic tendencies. It's funny he thought you cared.

"Happy?'

"Very."

"I see. But one thing that's conveniently missing from your file.", you replied, eyes flicking accusatorily to the camera before reaching his eyes once more. "Is why you did it.", you stated, your fingers intertwining as you looked at him with rapt attention.

This seemed to throw him for a loop, the self-satisfied grin fading for a moment.

"Why'd you want to know, sweetheart? So that you can record me confessing to the crime on tape?", he mused, gesturing at the camera before reclining back in his seat, his arms crossed. "Because I'm sorry to disappoint your wide-eyed, freshman dreams, but I've already said it, on the record."

You frowned, tilting your head softly for a moment. "No, I'm asking, because I truly don't know. They wouldn't give me your identity, let alone your case."

"Well, I hit a lad. For cat-calling a girl."

He observed your face almost twitch for a moment, and he figured you were about to throw the camera at him, but instead, you switched it off. "And they're punishing you for it?", you asked, leaning your forearms in front of him, basically whispering although the camera was off.

Huh. Whoa, maybe you were on his side.

"Yeah, isn't it mental?", he scoffed, leaning in, too. "I figured I should get some sort of medal, y'know? Maybe a commendation from the dean."

"I wouldn't go that far, but it's good, what you did.", you laughed, softly.

"Exactly!", he huffed, a genuine smile now on his face as he leaned back, rubbing his hands over his jaw. "Wow. I- sorry, love, but I didn't expect us to, like, agree."

"No, no, yeah, totally! I thought you were a hotheaded twat. I didn't expect...", you exclaimed, gesturing at him. "Reason."

"Right. Well, okay, great! Uh, phew, yeah?"

You nodded.

"So, yeah, this is cool. We'll just... you'll take care of it, won't ya? Thanks, you're a peach.", he grinned, standing up and not believing his bloody luck!

"Hey, hey, where are you going?"

Turning, he frowned. "Well, we agree. So you'll talk to your in-charge, and say I don't need it, yeah? Oh, oh, you want me to stay the hour so you can, like, log it in. Yeah, yeah, got it.", he mumbled, nodding eagerly.

"What? No." He was, uh... clearly not on the same page as you.

His smile faded slowly. "What?"

"We've got weeks left of this."

"Yeah, but. Wait, I thought you agreed with me."

"I do. It's bonkers to punish you, but, it's mandatory, so."

"'So'? So, go do summat about it, then!", he cried, gesturing at nothing in particular. "Tell 'em there's nothing to work on!"

"I'm not just going to--"

"WHY?!"

You almost flinched. God. Maybe he did have anger issues.

"WHAT'S IN IT FOR YOU?!"

Oh, oh-- uh oh. He didn't even know why you were doing it, and you were sure he'd blow five gaskets if he did.

"Just finish it, stop causing unecessary problems!"

"No, seriously! What's in it for you?"

"SIT DOWN!"

For some reason, that, he listened to.

He slumped down.

"Shut up and do what you were instructed to do." Lord knows where you'd got the balls to talk to a junior like that.

Reaching over to turn the camera back on, you began again. "What would you like me to call you?", you repeated.

"How about I call you something and we can workshop sm'n out for me later?", he grumbled under his breath.

"Sorry? You weren't audible. What was that?"

"Nothing. Felix."

"Felix.", you echoed, nodding. "We're here to just go through these Uni-mandated sessions, so that you may have an insight into conflict resolution and live an overall, controlled and more fulfilling life and have a more fruitful experience here at Oxford.", you read off the script, jaw clenched, mirroring his dirty look.

"Yes, I'm aware, thank you, freshie."

"I'd like it if you adressed me by my name. You already know it from the sign-up form for the sessions, but I am happy to repeat it if you wish.'

"Sign-up form?", he scoffed, looking directly at the camera. "Is that what they're calling it on the record?"

"That is what it is."

"Sweet Lord, it's a Liabil-- hey.", he grimaced, narrowing his eyes at you as you kneed him from under the table.

"Right. Y/N. Am I supposed to call you 'Doctor', too, freshie?"

"Just my name is fine."

He rolled his eyes, his hands fiddling with his rings. "Let's begin with your recount of the incident."

How many bloody times?! He was about to explode.

~~

You ended the session at exactly one hour, because you couldn't take this moron anymore, for fuck's sake.

He didn't object.

Shutting off the camera, you wordlessly packed up your things, stuffing them into your bag.

"Are they payin' ya?"

You snorted, zipping up your bag before slinging it over your shoulder. "No."

"Fuckin' snake."

"How am I a snake, Felix?", you sighed, tapping an impatient foot on the floor.

"Pretending you're on my side and that. Was that just to get information for the therapy part of it? Because that was a bitch move."

"What? No, I genuinely think it's odd that they're punishing you for something like this."

"Then why?! What could they possibly offer a fresher? They wouldn't increase your scholarship for shite this petty, so-- wait. EXTRA CREDIT?!", he gasped, standing up startlingly quick. "You're doin' this for a couple points of extra credit ?! WHAT?!"

"So what if I am?", you asked, schooling your face and your voice to be the picture of calm. "Either way, these sessions are mandated if you don't want this to escalate. It'll be over before you know it."

"EXTRA CREDIT?!", he practically shrieked, as he followed you out the door. "How bloody pathetic! You're going against what you know is right for extra bloody credit?! Just fucking study!"

"It'll be over before you know it, Felix."

"For the rest of the academic year, I have to come to you every Saturday and listen to you blabbering on about how to 'take deep breaths and count to ten'.", he scoffed, incredulously, easily overtaking you and obstructing your path in more ways than one.

"Doesn't always have to be a Saturday."

Oh, he was about to actually get anger issues.

"This pisses you off, too! Come on, admit it, fresher! You don't like this any more than I do!", he declared, crossing his arms defiantly.

You sort of liked pissing him off. Gave you much more to work with, sadistically. Reaching into your bag, you handed him the tiny blue journal you'd bought. "Here."

"What is this?"

"It's for noting down your feelings. You will have to fill at least one page every day and bring it back to me during our sessions."

He gaped incredulously at you as you shouldered past him. You're giving him homework?!

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WEEK 5

"You're not taking off your helmet?"

"No. Bothers you?"

You glanced at the camera for a second, before shaking your head, the corners of your lips turned down in feigned and exaggerated indifference. "No."

"Because I'll keep it on, mud and all. I fell on the way here."

"You fell?"

"Yeah. Helmet's now my coping mechanism. Calms me, y'know?" That made no bloody sense!

"So you're keeping it on."

'You wouldn't deny me my coping mechanism, would you, Y/N?"

You sucked on your teeth, shaking your head once more. Dirt on the desk, dirt on your laptop, dirt-- FUCK!

"No, it's alright."

He grinned slyly, nodding, before sliding the journal over to you. "I filled it."

"Entirely?" It's only Week 5, what the hell?

"Yes, actually. I'm an overachiever."

You raised a brow, taking it from him and placing it next to his file.

"So. How are we doing today?", you asked, once again intertwining your fingers and placing them on the desk as you leaned closer to the imbecile.

"You're not readin' it?"

Oh, please, like you had no clue what was in there. "No, actually, I've got to directly submit this to both your advisor and my in-charge."

"What?"

"Yeah, protocol. That's why I said to take it one week at a time so we can monitor progress, but it seems you're an 'overachiever' - your words, not mine."

"Can I have it back?" His tone was almost nervous, and you were now even more certain what he'd actually bloody written in there.

You almost smirked before you remembered the presence of the camera. "You want it back, Felix?"

"Yeah, I think I, uh, used a couple of profanities."

"That's alright, I'm sure they'll understand."

"Can I please have it back?"

You shrugged, holding it out for him to take, letting him tug on it for a moment before you released it from your grasp. "Would you like another one? Since you've filled this one?"

"I'll buy my own."

"Very well. I ask again, how are you doing today?"

He huffed, momentarily looking like he was actually prepared to answer honestly. "Great."

"Great.", you echoed, your pen twirling between your fingers. "And define 'great' to you."

"Not shite.", he said through gritted teeth.

"In more elaborate, less crude terms, please, Mr. Felix.'

"I am doing well today. Not bad.", he mumbled, playing with the buckle of the helmet he'd so adamantly kept on that was now seeming a bit too bloody tight. But he couldn't take it off. Not when it was clearly bothering you. "Nothing particularly terrible or triggering has occurred."

"And is that always the standard you measure your experiences on? 'Not bad'? If nothing 'terrible or triggering' has happened, it's a 'great' day?", you asked offhandedly, noting it down. 'Not shite'.

His eyes darted up to you. "What?"

"I said, is that always the stand--"

"No, I heard you. Just... isn't that what everyone does?"

"Do you think it is? Do you think it's what everyone does? Have any of your friends told you it is what they do?"

"What do you do?"

"Me?" Were you allowed to answer this? Is that against some therapist rule? You weren't sure, and you couldn't really ask your textbook right now, could you?

He nodded, mildly intrigued.

"Personally, for me to count a day as 'great', there should be an equal balance of absence of bad things and presence of good things."

"Well, then, I fell off my bike, but I did well on a test. Is that, in your books, a 'great' day?"

"Depends. Which do you weigh more? Is falling off a bike worse than getting a bad grade, or is getting a good grade better than staying upright on a bike?"

"Getting a good grade."

"Well, then, I suppose, there's your answer."

Huh. This was an odd perspective he's never exactly... heard before. Wait, no! This shite is not working, fuck off, fresher!

"Whatever."

"Whatever indeed.", you nodded. "You seem to have a better attitude this week, to the session." He did not. But it would piss him off if he thought that you thought this was working.

"I do not."

"Oh, well, then, pardon me, my mistake. So, tell me. Why do you think it is, that you're not particularly interested in these sessions?"

"Because I don't have anger issues. If a bloke catcalls a girl once, it's whatever - still bad - but whatever. Happens. But if he keeps doin' it, almost roofies her at a party and constantly tailing her, and then tryin' to score in a fucking library, just because she can't yell out at him, that's, like... creep behaviour!"

You nodded. "Yes, you mentioned this, in the first session, and also to your student advisor, it seems.", you replied, tapping the tip of your pen at the bit of the file that mirrored what he was saying.

"And you think that that's a therapy-worthy answer."

"Why do you not think you're going to get anything out of these sessions, Felix? Even without anger issues, per se, everyone could use some guidance in controlling their emotions and resolving conflict peacefully, wouldn't you agree?"

"No, I would not agree. I think that if you're being an absolute prick , then no amount of peaceful talking is going to do anything. You need to get physical. Teach a lesson."

"I see. And you know this works because...?"

"Because he's shut up, hasn't he?"

"Right, but maybe he's still doing it. Perhaps not to that particular girl, but how do you know for sure you've 'taught him a lesson'?"

"Because- well.", he muttered. Shut up, fresher! "He's not that daft! He wouldn't risk another beating!"

"If he's daft enough to do it three times even after she expressed disinterest, Felix, I'm sure he might be 'daft' enough to 'risk another beating'."

He tsked, taking off the bloody tight fucking helmet, and running his hands through his hair. You watched the brown spill through the gaps of his fingers, before your eyes came back to his face. "You're frustrated?"

"Yes, I'm frustrated."

"What do you usually do, when you're frustrated?"

"Certainly not sit in a room with a fresher and 'talk about it'!"

"Right, I suppose you don't.", you replied, smiling. "So what is it you do?"

"I dunno, smoke?"

"Smoke?", you asked, tilting your head, noting it down. "You smoke?"

"Yeah, I smoke. What, you going to turn this into a cancer-awareness session?"

"I'm simply trying to understand you, Felix."

"What is this, like a first date, you learn shite about me, and see if I'm worth anything in your eyes?", he scoffed.

"Would that make it easier to open up?"

"No! God! What high school did you go to? Idiot."

"Oh, so we are going with the first date thing?"

"No- I- you're so stupid! I don't actually care what high school you went to! It was rhetoric!"

His outburst, oddly, was not followed by a calm and infuriating retort, in fact, you just looked back at him, disappointed, it looked like. But that was impossible, because that would mean you gave a crap, which, you couldn't. You did this for extra credit like a fuckin' try-hard, right?

The silence almost devours him whole as he looks into your eyes - why were they so... he didn't even know, that look you were giving him just... freaked him out.

"Time's up. You can leave."

What?! No, no, no, he just got here.

"Already?"

He heard the video camera shut off. "Time flies when you're actually working with me, Felix, y'know?"

"Don't get used to it, I had a shit day.'

You chuckled softly, nodding. "I won't. Have a nice rest o' your weekend, Catton."

WEEK 10

"Hello again, Felix."

"Hi."

"You seem cheery today."

"Yes, actually. I went out last night. Downed a couple pints with the lads. It was fun."

"I'm glad you had fun."

He nodded, pursing his lips as he rocked back and forth, awkwardly.

"Yes, so. If you don't mind, I'd just like to go back to some things that were left unfinished in some of the previous sessions. Let's circle back to your mention of what you do when you're frustrated. Smoke. Anything else?"

He sighed, rubbing his temple as he looked up at you. 'No. Well, if you're talking about last night, uh, drink, yeah, sometimes, but never to change my mood or whatever."

"I see. So that's all you do, when frustrated?"

"Yeah. Smoke."

"How about this. Next time you feel frustrated, instead of picking up a pack of cigarettes, pick up a pen."

"What, write down my feelings like a thirteen year old girl?"

"No, draw. On paper, on a desk, on your hand, who cares? Draw."

"Draw?"

"Yeah. It's worked for me, and you seem to be responding slightly better when I give you real life examples of what's worked and not worked for me, so."

"What, the bike thing from Session 5?! Because I-- Oh, please, you're not that bloody smart! Anyone could've said that, doesn't mean I'm 'responding better' just because you said it worked for you, you're a fuckin' fresher, everything you read in your stupid little psych textbooks would work for you!", he snapped. He didn't even know what half of that meant. He just wanted to say something.

"See, it seems that this is more what you do when you're frustrated, Felix, per my observation. You're free to correct me if I'm wrong, but since our previous sessions, this sort of insulting defensiveness is what I feel you resort to."

"'M not defensive. I just think this is pointless."

"Yes, you've made that quite apparent."

"Well, then how about you just declare me fixed?"

"It's not about declaring you, alright, it's about finishing the minimum duration provided to us by the University."

"Fine."

Silence. "So. I ask again. Why not draw?"

"Fine, I'll draw."

"Alright. Thank you, Felix. Time's up."

"What?!"

"Just kidding. You've only been here five minutes. How about... and humour me here...", you muttered, reaching under the desk and groping around until you pull out two sketchbooks. "We draw right now?"

"What, and then you analyse how fucked I am in the head?"

"Or we just draw. We don't even have to talk.", you replied, handing him the sketchbook. God, this better work. You'd had to draw info from child psych books for this guy.

~~

It took barely five minutes for him to begin talking again.

"What are these pencils?"

"Don't ask me, they're all Oxford-provided."

"What a joke. You know, when I was a fresher, I didn't even let myself think of borrowing anything from Uni, I got all my own shite, and even if I lost it, I'd ask it to be sent over from home."

"Really?" Fucking rich boy cunt.

"Mhm.", he hummed, the scratches of his incessant scribbling almost grating in the silent room, but also comfortable, somehow, blending in with the smooth swish sounds of your own, lazy strokes. "Only the best. Can't afford mistakes, can I?"

Can't afford? You'd researched him enough to know that little existed of the sort for him.

"I suppose you can't."

"Y'know, I fucking lost my shite third week of freshman year. How about you?"

"I'm handling it okay, thanks for asking." You were, in fact, not. Your assignments were all overdue by now, and you were having to pull all-nighters that bled steadily into mornings because of this new extra-credit task you'd taken on, and to top it all off, none of the other Professors seemed to care that the Uni was milking the two of you. Abusing your need to improve your grade - although you shouldn't fucking need it -and subjecting him to these sessions with none of his own volition.

"That's good to hear. How close are you to offing yourself, then?", he mused, raising a brow and licking the back of his molars as his eyes slowly reached yours. Fuck. He was onto you.

You tsked, reaching over and shutting off the camera. "You know I have better things to do than edit this to cut out your little quips, right? I really can't have you talking about offin' yourself."

"Oh, so you're also a drown-in-alcohol kind of person, I see."

What in the everloving fuck-- "God, get a fuckin' life, mate.", you muttered, reaching back up to switch the camera on after silently glaring and counting down from three.

"I'm handling it okay, thanks for asking.", you repeated.

"Huh. Really?"

"Yes. Why, is your school year not going okay?"

"No, it's going spectacular. My parents pay for an afternoon to go off once a week for a useless fresher to tell their son to meditate."

You chose not to respond to that, instead pursing your lips and continuing to draw. A flower, it seemed, your hands wished to create.

"Why do you even need extra credit?"

"I was sick, and I missed a couple classes."

"Oh, and you flunked the tests?", he asked, reaching over to grab your pencil out of your hands and use the eraser on the back of it, before tossing it back to you. Prick, and if that smirk was any indication, smug prick.

"No, actually, I'd already finished a good chunk of the syllabus content my first couple weeks so I did fine in my tests."

"So why?"

He looked genuinely curious. So genuinely curious, that you actually felt like this was a first date and he was an annoyingly inquisitive romantic candidate.

"She just didn't like the absences." Plus, everyone else just took Psych to slack off.

"That's not fair."

"Yeah, well, you beat up a creep for a girl and they're punishing you, so."

His eyes flicked over to the camera momentarily. "That's on the record."

"It should be."

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Normalcy is hard to achieve because it's never truly been attained.

Now, this kind of knowledge is only acquired when you take a philosophy class - like you - but since Felix was a PolSci-stuck-up-arsehole, it really didn't strike him that the life he'd lived before you had neither been normal nor happy.

Which is why when he found you and a couple of your friends hanging out by the lawn of a frat party, passing around a spliff, he just couldn't resist.

"Is this your coping mechanism, then?"

He reveled in the groan you replied with.

"Ladies, if you could excuse us?"

You rolled your eyes as all your mates nodded slyly before scrambling up. With hungry and suggestive looks at him and then you, they waved subtly. Spectacular. They already thought you were hooking up and now... fuck.

"Ah. I think we're gonna need that, if you will.", he called, winking as he grabbed the spliff from one of them, before settling down next to you. "See? I'm a celebrity. You should bring that up next time, see if you can't do anything with it."

"What?"

"Like, ask me about that. Incorporate it. 'How's it feel, Felix, being the life of the party, and the apple of everyone's eye?'"

"Incorp-- do you think this is a game? Like this is a play?!"

"Well, yeah. It's basicall--"

"GOD, you absolute prick! I'm here freakin' out about the syllabus, tests, and stayin' up to analyse and collate your bullshit and I have to submit it and study resources for it and--", you paused, catching your breath and glaring at him before taking a hit to calm your nerves. "And you think it's a story, like an improv session, where we add off each other.", you mumbled the last bit out.

"What are you, burnt-out from this shite?"

You didn't respond and he watched the smoke flow above the two of you. "God. You are. What sort of a freshman's burnt out by second term?"

"The kind that has to be a shrink to some anger-issued arsehole."

"Hey, c'mon, you-", he huffed, tilting his head at you. "You don't have to put too much effort into this, it's a formality."

"To you!", you yelled, sitting up in frustration, your elbow on your knee and your blunt in your fingers.

He sat up, too, sighing. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth."

"Worth nothing."

"Yeah, I can tell.", he muttered, hiding a scoff. "Gimme."

You rolled your eyes, but handed him the spliff nevertheless, which he grumbled as he took a drag of. Knees elevated to his chest, he exhaled the smoke. "This is good. Is it American?'

"How should I know?"

"You don't care what sort of weed you smoke? This actually is one of your coping methods?"

"For the love of-- lay off, man!"

"Whoa, whoa, it's a joke!"

"You're a joke!"

He almost laughed at that. Almost, because he'd had quite fucking enough of you. He didn't forget who he was just because you might have changed his perspective a little. He was still Felix motherfucking Catton, a motherfucking Upperclassman. And when he was a fresher, he had to treat his Upperclassmen with utmost respect- no, reverence - so he'll be damned if he's gonna let you sit here and call him a joke.

"Stand up."

"What?"

"Stand up."

"Why?"

"NOW, FRESHER, NOW!" Okay, the startle in your body language made him feel the tiniest bit bad, but still, it was exactly what had been done to him, and he wasn't all whiny about it.

"Okay, okay, I'm up, I'm up!", you mumbled, straightening out your shirt. "What?"

He had no clue what he wanted you to stand up for.

"So. The reason I had you shoot up..."

Think, Felix! Think!

"...Is actually quite simple, really. I'm sure you've already guessed."

"You want to get my mind off it or summat."

Sure. "Good. You're smart. And how will I be doing that?"

You shrugged. "Take me on a joyride on your stupid bicycle or summat.", you grumbled.

Sure. Let's go with that. Better than Felix's idea of making you do jumping jacks, like his seniors had done to him.

"Wow, maybe shrinks really can read minds. And at least you have one of your own.", he replied, flicking your forehead as he shepherded you over to the exit of the party. Yeah, he didn't think through how far you'd have to walk before you actually reached his bike. Oh, well. Better for him.

"So.", he began, arms swinging exaggeratedly at his side. "Have you heard anything from your in-charge yet? Walker won't tell me anything."

You shook your head. "It's all the same. 'Received tapes. Good work. Keep going.' Like I'm bloody angling for a gold star."

"Well, you're angling for the college equivalent of a gold star, which is a smidge of extra credit."

Shrugging, you seemed to agree. It was a pleasant sort of... stoned sort of quiet for the rest of the walk until his bike came into view. "There it is."

"That's the bike you fell off of after you aced your test?"

"Yeah."

"How?", you scoffed, buckling up the little helmet he offered you "Thing looks brand new."

"What, you were expecting some post-war, ancient bike?", he snorted, clambering onto the seat.

"Yeah, I thought it'd be some rusty, squeaky, rickety thing. How's this supposed to work? Where do I sit?"

"On your own bike's seat.", he replied, gesturing to the rest of the bicycle lot.

"I don't have a bloody bicycle! I'm normal! I walk to classes!"

"How close is your dorm?!"

"Quite."

"Well...", he huffed, taking off his helmet. 'Well, okay, so, just... take one."

"Take one?"

"Like... a random one. Borrow an unlocked one."

"Steal, you mean."

"Semantics."

"I'm not stealing."

He groaned. He had way too much of a heart to punish you like his seniors did.

═════════════════════════ ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ═══════════════════════

"Could you slow down?!"

He watched you grumble before you slowed down, allowing him to jog up next to you. "I'm going to hold onto the handlebar because I wouldn't put it past you to steal my bike and then ask me 'how did that make you feel?' in the next session."

You actually had to stop the bike to laugh for that one.

"Oh, she acts human.", he remarked, crossing his arms across his chest as he regarded you. "Alright, it's not... that funny."

But you just didn't stop laughing.

Well, until you started crying.

Maybe that weed was laced. Yeah, he was feelin' a bit off, himself. Shit.

"I mean, fuck, Felix, mate, you- you know I don't think you should be antagonized like this, yeah? You're... you, you're good, you- you helped a girl, and your anger issues are good!"

Okay, clearly the laced weed was hitting you both at the same time, somehow. Either it was causing him to mishear some sympathy from your end or causing you to express sympathy. Either way, somehow, you were both oddly on the same page.

"I don't have anger-bloody-issues.", he gritted out, tapping his fingers impatiently on the handlebar.

"No, mate, you do, but, like, they're good, you don't have to get all touchy about it. I like it, personally. Think it's good. You're stickin' it to the man and all that."

He scoffed as he shifted closer, flicking your - well, his - helmet back a bit. "You're on thin ice, 'mate'! I told you, I don't have anger iss--"

"You're yellin' at me right now!"

"I'm NOT--", he cut himself off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You're pissin' me off."

"Everything pisses you off! That's why they're called anger issues!', you retorted, and he swore he was close to pushing you off the bike and seeing how many minutes of meditation you'd employ not to uppercut him.

"I don't need your shrink bullshit, and you can't do it anyway! I don't get how you're burnt out, y'know? You half-arse everything!"

He barely knew you outside of these sessions. He was straight up lying, but he wanted to prove that it wasn't that easy to keep your calm when provoked. Especially not by some smart aleck swot-freshman who thinks her psych major means she can read his mind and give him lip.

Ow ow, ow. Fuck. He needed to sit. down. The 'weed' was definitely about to make him pop a blood vessel, because did he just see three stars in the sky run down in front of him? No. Can't be, yeah?

"D'you think...?", you groaned, hastily removing the helmet. "D'you think there was summat in the punch?"

"Think it was the weed."

"Weed doesn't-- oh."

He nodded, gently steering the bicycle to the nearest bench, which was barely a hundred paces away, observing your feet elevated and the pedals rotating on their own as he tugged it along.

Grunting lowly as he sat, he held out a hand for you after you leant the bicycle against a nearby streetlamp. You slumped down next to him. "This is why I don't take Donna's weed, but she swore it was clean."

"Some friend she is."

"Hey."

"Oh, please, come on. She lies to you, gives you laced weed because, what, she thought she knew best on what would calm you down? That's not what a friend does."

"What does a friend do? Take you on bicycle rides across campus?"

"I mean, sure. Why not?", he asked, gesturing around. "It's fresh air, yeah? We had some talkin' happening, as well, sorted out our differences and that, yeah?"

You chuckled, softly, shaking (and lightly clutching) your head. "And what did we sort out?"

"That you're a bit of a cunt. And I'm a twat."

"Second one is accurate."

"That statement just proved the first one.", he retorted, before scoffing and breaking into a fit of breathy giggles. "Fuck."

You watched the world spin for a while, a dizzying amalgamation of shapes and stars and colours and suddenly you were aware of the clothes on your body, the wind in your hair, the saliva on your tongue, the beat of your heart.

And that's when you did it. You weren't sure what you expected or why you did it, but you just ended up kissing him like it was summat you were meant to do next, like a script. Like clockwork.

He, to say the least, was surpised it was you who initiated it. Honestly. He'd always been a very daft person when it came to... well, boundaries, for one. Sane actions, for the other. However, there was something less daft and more... crazed about this drug-induced haze you were clouded in that rendered his self-awareness moot.

And so he kissed back.

Ravenously.

This, it seemed, according to the faux marijuana, was all he ever fucking needed. Poof, no anger issues. And for you? Poof, no stress.

It was wrong, to say the least. Not due to anything besides the fact that there was no logical person who'd put you two together. He groaned softly, almost reverently, as he gripped a couple locks of your hair, a wordless direction for you to get your idiotic arse over here. And you did. The kiss didn't break. You guys should get an award for that impressive feat.

But the real award should be for your desperate, bruising grip to sobriety, the one that eventually led to you pulling yourself away from his lips, breathlessly.

"I know what you're doing."

He wasn't one for biting his lip, so he bit down on yours, instead. "Yeah? What's that, babe?", he asked, fiddling with the button of your jeans.

"You're tryin' to get off the hook of these sessions by claiming conflict of interest 'cause of this."

Oh, fuck, he hadn't even thought of that. Would've been so fuckin' smart, and plus, he'd have got a lay out of it. But he didn't exactly feel like giving a premature end to these sessions that he'd - never fucking admit - grown sort of fond of.

"Or maybe, I'm trying to get off, period.", he whispered, kissing at your cheek.

"Yeah, right."

"Trust issues much?", he murmured, his hand gently sliding into the front of your jeans. "Maybe next session, we should work on that, sweetheart."

Fuck.

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No one ever tells you this - lest you experience some form of joy in life - but waking up to good smells rather than any form of sound is heaps better, calmer, lovelier.

And you woke up, not to the sound of your alarm, but to the smell of goddamn butter and toast. Like, fuck, okay. Damn. This is what life should feel like, then?

You groaned, almost ready to scream at how at peace you were, before getting out of bed, rubbing your face. You shot right back in, though. Right. You were starkers.

"Felix?!"

God, you hoped it was actually him and you hadn't had some sort of adventure after him last night.

He practically left skid marks, the way he rushed to the bedroom doorway. "Uh huh?"

"Where the fuck are my clothes?"

"Oh, I put them in the wash."

"Felix--"

"Just kidding. They're in that drawer, there." Across the room.

"Could you get them for me?"

He smirked. 'Yeah."

"'Yeah' as in you will, or 'yeah' as in you could, but you won't?"

His smirk dissolved into an almost fond simper. "You know me so well."

"I'm not walkin' out naked."

"See, what is it with you girls, gosh! As if I didn't see everything last night, now you're suddenly all coy?", he teased, yanking the drawer open and tossing you your clothes, rolling his eyes before turning around so you could change. "Last night count as a breach of, uh, what is it...?"

"Not breach. But Conflict of Interest. Yeah. So, I'm guessing you're free, now. No more sessions."

"Mm. Shame, that. I had some really interesting things written in there.", he replied, pointing to a blue notebook on the bedside table.

"Like what?"

"Like... me realising I'm falling in love with you.", he whispered, softly, hand on his heart. He paused long enough for you to begin to question whether this was dedication to his joke or an actual, sincere fuckin' confession.

"Fuck! Wow! Gullible much? I'm joking, obviously! What, you think I'd have some, like, ten lines written every day, like 'Oh, my love, oh, my love, XOXO, Felix!', or summat?"

"Well, I don't bloody know! Your'e scarily good at the poker face, y'know?"

"Why, thank you, thank you very much.", he preened, tipping an invisible hat in your direction.

"Makin' French Toast. You vegetarian? Or vegan? Nah, I don't care, you're eatin' this."

Groaning, you got up, took his offer of an unused toothbrush, and let him escort you to the bathroom. "These rich-kid-dorm-suites, I swear--"

"Jealous much?"

"I swear to fucking god, you better stop saying 'much' after everything and thinkin' it's funny!"

"Anger issues much?"

"Arsehole much?!"

He giggled, waving at you before scrambling over to the kitchen to make sure his French toast was stil intact. Not before he grabbed your imaginary 'flipping-off' from the air and brought it to his heart, as if you'd blown him a kiss, instead.

Fucking hell. You had to now spend a. money, on Ibuprofen, b. time on coming up with an explanation as to how this happened and why you still deserve that extra credit, and c. energy on having to deal with this Felix Catton guy who you'd apparently come to be relatively fond of.

Spitting out your paste and gargling the remnants out, you walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen, where Felix had laid out the toast on crappy paper plates. "Left over from a party, figured I'd use 'em."

"Thanks.", you nodded, sitting down and biting a bit off one. "It's good."

"Thanks.", he parroted, dropping the last onto his plate before turning off the stove and sitting opposite you. "So, it just violates it all? Just 'cause we shagged, you can't 'fix me' anymore?", he asked, gulping down a sip of orange juice.

"Yeah, summat like that. I might, like, be more inclined to let you off the hook or whatever."

"Mm. What about your extra credit, then? Why don't you just act like this never happened?"

"Couldn't. In good conscience."

"But then you'll be extremely stressed. Might go back to Donna and her laced weed.", he pointed out, taking a bite. "Over the summer, you'll have to catch up on your missing assignments, yeah?"

"Yeah. Fuck. Oh, yeah, I do.", you whined, your forehead on the heel of your palm.

"Come to Saltburn, then."

"What?" What was he talking about?

"My family estate. Come to Saltburn. It's a change of scenery, and it works wonders, I swear. You'll finish everything by first week of summer vacation, and the next month or so, it's all just you-time."

"Why would I come to Saltburn?"

"I just told you."

You sighed. Logically, yes, it did make sense for a change of view. But. You didn't exactly want to get dragged into whatever a normal day for Felix Catton (and Farleigh Start - his cousin, apparently!) looked like.

"It's full of old shite, though, like, ancient stuff. Cobwebs, dusty, grimy, stuffy-- hey! Stuffy and boring. You'll fit right in.", he grinned cheekily, winking as he continued to chew.

Well, fuck.

"Suspicious much?"

'Much'. You were going to strangle this guy in his own mansion, you're sure.

"Seriously, think about it, just us, ice-cream, the sea, summer. Who knows, you could go in a loser and come out with a boyfriend. Moi."

"Oh, please.", you snickered, and he followed suit.

"I just might tell you what's in that diary. XOXO, Felix, yeah, but what'd I write before it? A confession of my love? A death threat? A riddle? Poetry? Secrets?", he mused, waggling his fingers as if to spook you. "Ooh."

You scoffed, shaking your head in amusement as you took a sip of the orange juice.

"Come on. Come to Saltburn. Worth your while, I promise."

Well, fuck.

[lilyrachelcassidy]

if I had to be executed and choose my last meal, this would literally be my food. it is only the first chapter and yet you ate so hard 😭😭 pls give us more

ᴄᴏɴꜱᴄɪᴇɴᴄᴇ [1] // ɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴊᴀᴄᴏʙꜱ

This was from my poll . This is Part 1.

Special thanks to @milesdrift for pushing me to pump this draft out in this ask.

Nate Jacobs + fem!reader. SFW, but discretion advised. Dark. Mature themes.

My other Nate fics. If you have the time.

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

Desc. : Not your circus, but yeah, your monkey.

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Aaron Jacobs. Absolute worst ex to fucking have. And you would've actually scoffed and rolled your eyes and ignored him had his brother not been there at the restaurant you and your family were having an actually pleasant dinner at that night.

But rumours in West Highland about some EH QB who'd choked some girl had been circulating, though, and you were about 90% sure Nate was QB. I mean, Aaron had said that his brother was QB of the East Highland team, and, like. That doesn't change every year, does it? Hell if you knew.

To be honest, and perfectly fair, you hadn't really interacted much with Nate Jacobs after your breakup with Aaron (dodging rumours and taunts that you'd been groomed just because Aaron was a senior when you were a sophomore was difficult), and you'd stopped accompanying your father to the country club where you'd first been introduced to the Jacobs family. Because who the fuck would want to see an asshole like Aaron Jacobs again?

Seeing Nate standing there, though? He looked absolutely fucked. Depressed, even. You tried to turn your eyes back to your family, but a table next to you began whispering, and then another, and then soon enough, there was a complaint being raised, and the manager was squaring up to Cal Jacobs.

And that's when, for reasons that you can't explain without using the words "canon event", you stupidly followed the Jacobs family out.

"Hey."

Too quiet.

"Hey!"

"Oh, hey, dear, it's been ages, how are you?"

"Good, Mr. Jacobs.", you smiled, biting the inside of your cheek as you shook his hand. Yeah, he was pissed, and you knew you had to tread lightly, no matter how good he was at being cordial.

"You've grown into a beautiful young lady. You here to acquiesce to Aaron's request for another shot?"

"Uh, no?"

"Good. You deserve better.", he grinned, ruffling up your hair, before leaning closer. "Listen, dear, we don't need your sympathy. We'll remember this. How this establishment—"

"Oh, no, no, it isn't like that. Um, EH has a scrimmage against us next week, so I was just about to talk to Nate about it."

He licked the back of his teeth, before nodding, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "Make it quick."

And then, unfortunately, Nate turned back to you. "What?"

"I just, I saw you, I don't know, I just wanted to come check on you."

"Why?"

"It's just fucked up. What happened in there.", you said, thumbing behind you at the restaurant.

"Yeah, well, he lost really fucking good business. Why are you actually out here? You gonna tell me I'm a pig? Huh? Is that what you want? A domestic abuser? 'Cause I've heard it all, alright?"

He ran his palm over his face, glaring at a security guard gawking at the two of you. "Just fuck off, alright?", he hissed under his breath.

"Whoa, no, man, I really don't know why you're being like this—"

"You know the "rumours" and shit they say about you? Hm?", he scoffed, sucking on his teeth at your narrowed eyes. "You know what, forget it. You'll probably just prove them all right."

You knew exactly what he was talking about. Rumours that you were groomed by his brother. Rumours that you were easy. Bets running around school to see who could 'groom' you again. Guys in your DMs 24/7.

"You're gonna play dumb? The cute, innocent act?", he scoffed, his arm around your shoulders to turn you back to the restaurant. "You know the manager in there, the one that just kicked us out?", he inquired, voice haunting right next to your ear. "Maybe you'll go suck his cock, let him groom you, huh? I mean, if you really think what he did to our family is unfair, you'll try to help us back in, right?"

Wow! Oh, fuck this guy to hell!

"What?"

"Nothing.", he muttered, patting your shoulder before shoving his hands into his pockets and stalking back to his car.

Not without a couple "fuck you!"'s from you and a middle finger from him.

Teach you to fucking try to comfort a Jacobs. Give them an inch and they'll take a fucking mile. And then some.

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See, Nate's not a particularly evil person, he wouldn't say. He's no saint, he accepts that. But he'd never wish ill on you. God, you? Not you! Unheard of! You were his best-kept secret ; he'd go around blabbing about his Dad before he told anyone about you.

Well, okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. You weren't exactly a secret ; he's making it sound like a clandestine love affair.

No, you probably barely remembered him, but he's known you for God knows how long, and he's liked you for longer.

Actually. He's pretty sure, with the amount of times he's stalked your account online, there's probably a warrant out for his arrest. Well, another one, he should say.

But seriously. You're what he needed. Someone who didn't have some preconcieved notion about him, someone who didn't have Maddy at her ear 24/7 saying he wasn't worth shit.

All this to say... he really regretted how it went down that night.

This is Nate. I was drunk. Sorry.

You were sober. Fuck off.

Ok, but I was pissed. Sorry.

What were you supposed to do, in his mind? Accept wholeheartedly?

Do you still come around the club?

No.

Not since the breakup?

Fuck him.

There was no logical reason for him to have your number, for real. You'd changed your number about two months after the breakup, so he couldn't have got it from Aaron, and you didn't know a single person from EH (no one from WH would ever associate with them, it's a territory thing) so he couldn't have had a connect.

Okay, fuck. Whatever. Social media existed, you supposed.

No.

Can you come Sunday? I'll buy you lunch.

It took you a very long time to stop scoffing, and a little longer for him to follow up.

And dessert. And coffee. Or whatever.

Honestly, you weren't fucking sure what to do. You weren't into the idea of hanging out with that prick again, but it'd be like kicking a man when he's down. For real.

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"I didn't think you'd show.", he remarked, accepting your hug before leading you into the clubhouse restaurant, holding a chair out for you. "Like, honest, I thought you'd flake."

"Why's that?"

He shrugged, sitting across from you, a hand over the back of his chair like he owned the place — basically did. Lifetime member. "'Cause it'd kill your rep at your school. Or, like, make it worse for the rumours about being groomed and shit — that I'm sorry for bringing up, by the way."

"Sorry about bringing up yours. I didn't know it was, like, that triggering."

He picked at the corner of the table for a moment, the scraping almost turning you homicidal.

"You know I had a fucking dream about it?"

"The strangling?"

"Uh-huh. Like, the guy who actually did it was, like, dancing around me and I was in a jail cell."

You snorted, shaking your head as you did. "Dark."

Chuckling at your laughs, he shook his head. When the fuck had you become so pretty?

He smiled at you for a little while, his eyes on your lips, before he sighed, his fingers rapping on the table. "Okay, I gotta ask.", he mumbled, and you raised a brow, setting the cup down.

"How does one such as you date... one such as my brother?", he asked, in the most sarcastically polite tone he could.

"Trust me, I ask myself that every day.", you laughed, finally getting to work on your cookie, before looking up at him. "How are you, Nate?"

He rolled his eyes. "You asked me this outside the restaurant. I'm fine. It's just fucked up. Some guy assaults my girl and then the world thinks it's me."

"I didn't actually get to ask you this outs—"

"Do you drink?"

"Do I— yeah, I drink. Why?"

~~~~

He pulled out his phone as he offered you the vape again. "Won't kill you, you know?

"Might."

"Try it.", he mumbled, running his hand over his chin as he waited for the app you'd suggested for him to download to keep his chats with Maddy secure. 'Signal'. "Seriously. One hit isn't giving you cancer."

You scoffed, puffed, and coughed. "Fuck you, man.", you scoffed.

A moment washes by.

"So, did you do it?", you asked, shifting your elbow to rest on your knee as you looked back out at the pool, squinting at the sky, then back down to the flask, glinting in the sunlight.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. I heard it, didn't really believe it."

"Didn't 'really' believe it implies you kinda did.", he said, typing in the name of the app and scrolling past the ten million other fucking apps with that same generic ass name.

"Well, logically - statistically - you can't confidently rule anyone out. I mean, there's probably billions of girls whose boyfriends did strangle them, and they didn't see it coming, and they knew them a whole lot better than I knew you."

"You've known me since you were a freshman.", he muttered, clicking 'Install'. "Hey, could you ask your Dad to hook me up with a motel room for a couple nights? We just can't meet up in town, in public."

"Yeah, no, for sure. I'll tell him to leave a room open for you. Just one night, right? Or, like, how long?"

"I dunno, can I tell you? I mean, I'm good for it, if that's what you're worried about."

You nodded. "Sure. But I'm taking this shit as collateral.", you declared, rattling the pocket flask in his face, grinning as he guffawed. "It's cool as shit."

"That's my grandpa's."

"Bullshit.", you snorted, and he hit his shoulder against yours. "You can't come up with a story to guilt me into giving you your cool-as-shit flask back."

It took him a while to admit to himself that he hadn't laughed that much since this whole fucked up police investigation began.

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Two Weeks Later.

Just like any good horror movie, the doorbell rang through the house like the fucking Purge siren, at fucking midnight, when you were home alone. And you had absolutely no delusions about being the final girl, no, you'd call the fucking police right the fuck away.

Well, that's until your phone rang, scaring the actual life out of you.

Caller ID showed Nate Jacobs.

You picked up.

"Hey, I'm outside."

Okay, you were ready to actually shoot this asshole within an inch of his life. "It's midnight."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, just— I'm sorry, I just need you to open the door."

You sighed, ending the call as you unlocked the door. This really could still be some serial killer with a gun against Nate's head, making him say—

"Hey."

Oh. Oh. He looked pathetic. "Maddy and I aren't... like, together. If that's any consolation."

You leaned against the doorway, watching the rain frame the back of his head. "Consolation for what?"

He licked his lips, looking over your shoulder and then back at your eyes. "Me being here."

Crossing your arms, you bit the inside of your cheek. You had no idea where you were supposed to go from here, because he looked about two conversations away from offing himself, and you really didn't need that on your conscience. "And, uh...", you trailed off, exhaling before looking back at his eyes - those fucking detached eyes - "Why are you here?"

He clenched his jaw, practically clinging to the doorframe. "I don't know."

"Are you high?"

He shook his head.

"Drunk?"

He shook his head. Droplets of rainfall landed on your doorframe.

"Sad?"

He shook his head.

"Angry?"

He thought for a moment, actually thought, before shaking his head.

"Scared?" Ugh, you couldn't be standing here all night naming every character from Inside Out.

His eyes shot across your face, every corner of it, like object balls across a billiards table. He nodded.

"The purple guy, huh?", you muttered, under your breath, before rubbing the side of your temples and moving to press your back against your door. He walked in through the space you'd given him, and you closed the door.

"I just, uh... I wanted to thank you. You know, for the motel and the app."

You shook your head, sitting down. "It's nothing, man. Least I could do."

He slumped down next to you, his foot bouncing as his eyes glazed over the TV, blues and reds and purples from the screen reflecting in them.

"Maybe if you, like, talked about it?"

He scoffed - or laughed, you could never tell with him - before he shook his head. "Do your parents lock their liquor cabinet?"

~~~~

Silent movies were the fucking best.

To watch. Not so much when you have company that's really not into laughing at Chaplin's antics, and more interested in dragging his fingers up your ankle to your knee in alcohol-induced stupor.

"Why doesn't he just fucking get through that door?", he slurred, pointing at the screen as he rubbed his half-lidded, heavy-gazed eyes aggressively, probably to get himself to wake the fuck up.

"The tiny door in the wall?"

"Mm. It's a way out of the fucking lion cage. He's just too dense to see it? That's the joke?"

"Wait for it."

"I'm not good at that."

You shushed him, and he scowled, biting at your finger.

"It's a silent fucking movie! 'Shh' could be the title.", he laughed, yanking you to him, thumbing at your shoulder.

"Oh, he found it!"

Charlie Chaplin opened the hatch and came face to face with a fucking tiger. He chortled, resting his forehead on your shoulder in amused exasperation. "No, man, you're absolutely right, this is peak comedy."

"It is. You're laughing.", you giggled.

"Out of cringe. Shit is childish."

He licked his lips as you turned away, your eyes back on the screen as you took another sip of the vodka.

The bullshit began all at once, swift, sudden and striking. (You'd eventually learn that's how it'd always be with Nate.)

"Do you realise, I could... fuck, I could lose everything? Like, I...", he mumbled, grabbing your hand and pressing the heel of your palm to his forehead as he grimaced. "I'll lose my shot at college." His face contorted in what actually looked like raw fucking worry, before he rested his chin on your palm, then his lips, too, just gentle enough that you didn't notice it. His knee bounced faster. Your palm turned in his hand and his lips grazed your knuckles. "I won't be able to get a job. I'll, like... I'll get on some list."

Your eyebrows pressed together, and you pursed your lips. You'd never seen Nate - well, anyone - like this before. Hysterical wasn't the right way to put it, but he was definitely not as calm and composed as you'd been used to seeing him, back when you were kids.

"Nate, you'll get out of this."

"But, like, what if I don't?"

"The truth will win. It always does."

He snorted, kissing up your wrist with soft, barely-there presses that were more comforting to him than to you. "Reality's gonna be a bitch to you, you know? It's the worst for the pretty ones with no clue."

"What?"

"Nothing. It's...", he sighed. "I'm fucked up, okay? Just don't pay me any mind. I just feel like... no one like... fully believes me, you know?"

"I'm sure Maddy does, I mean, she knows it wasn't you."

"Yeah, no, I'm not talking about Maddy, she's going through her own shit, I just feel like it's... this is fucked up to say, but my shit's worse than hers."

You raised a brow, scoffing as you leaned your head back against the couch. "Yeah? How'd you figure?"

"Don't get all psycho-feminist on me. I'm just saying, she went through it. I'm going through it."

"See, that makes sense in theory, but —"

"But nothing.", he laughed, and suddenly, the same eyes, once detached, were now closer than you'd ever thought they could be. Your forehead was pressed against his, your cheeks twitching at the feel of his knuckles against them.

And then, he leaned in.

And you leaned away.

"What?", he murmured, one of his hands fiddling with your earring. "What's wrong?"

"You're really upset, you're not exactly the most reasonable, or, like, stable right now."

He frowned for a moment, his head tilting just a smidge, before he scoffed, his hands off you faster than they'd latched on, and thrown up in mock surrender. "I see."

"What?"

"You're scared of me. You're scared of me, huh? You afraid I'll strangle you? Leave you with bruises on your neck that you're gonna have to explain at school on Monday?"

"Whoa, hey, where are you getting this from? I didn't say any of that !"

"I can see it in your fucking eyes." he replied, moving back towards your face and breathing in against your cheek.

"I'm not!"

"No?"

"No."

"Then don't fucking sit there all stiff and trembling like I'm about to fucking choke you. Yeah? We good?"

You nodded. Last thing you wanted was to accuse him when the entire district was probably doing that and much worse.

He sucked on his teeth, staring at you for a moment, before it seemed his mind had come to the absolutely demented conclusion that kissing you was his only way out of the awkward quiet that had once again graced both of you with its presence.

"Hey—"

Tilting his head, he looked up at you earnestly, his fingers pinching your chin to have you stay still. "You said you weren't scared of me."

"I'm not."

"Hey.", he mumbled, sliding his hands down your jeans. "Hey. Come on. We know each other, right?", he asked, kissing at your cheek. "And we fuck with each other, right?" His kisses migrated to your jaw and then clavicle. "So why can't we fuck each other?"

Okay, in his defense, he really did fucking need this. He met Maddy every Friday night at the motel, and it really was the best part of his week, 100%. He was a good fucking boyfriend. But he needed to feel normal, to know that he was talking to someone who didn't either pity him, hate him, or love him to the point of lying to the police.

He needed to not be a fucking victim, for a night.

For some weird reason, you still froze against the onslaught of his lips. He'd figured that logic was sound.

He was pretty sure he was ready to actually choke you, but, being the rational individual he is, he took a deep breath, resting back on his heels. "You think I'm innocent?"

"I think you're innocent."

"You're just saying that 'cause you're scared I'll kill you if you say otherwise.", he mumbled, under his breath.

"No! Nate, seriously."

"Yeah? Doesn't look like it."

He'd have felt guilty for this manipulation, had you not kissed him then, to prove that you were a good friend, a good person. Hey, if it works, it works.

And then he started to blabber. He hated doing that shit, but alcohol seemed to get some sort of amusement out of making him an actual fucking idiot.

"I always hated, like, when you were fucking my brother.", he groaned out, helping you out of your jeans. "You had to have known that."

You shook your head. That wasn't news, in reality. Jacobs men were not subtle.

"No, like, for fucking real, I thought you could've done so much better. I'm closer to your age, too, you know? Absolute crime against humanity, us not doing this befor— yeah, that feels good, huh?", he asked, amused at your breathless state.

You nodded in response, and he tugged down on your bottom lip, with his teeth. "Yeah, just keep still for me, it's about to feel a whole lot fucking better."

You had a nasty, clawing feeling that that would not be the case all the time, because your experience with Jacobs men had suggested otherwise.

And boy, will you be proven right, time and time again.

For now? Just enjoy this. At least the sex is good.

Nothing else will be.

But more on that later.

[lilyrachelcassidy]

bro im beyond honored that Obsessed inspired you to read Conscience 😭😭 imma go and read it RIGHT NOW

love ya xo

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.

Yo

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?

[lilyrachelcassidy]

the way im so so so obsessed with this, im not even joking.

I took like a super long hiatus from Tumblr and reading fanfiction, and this is the first thing im reading after coming back? im so glad I had a couple of reads from you to catch up on now cuz honestly I couldn't have had a better comeback.

atp im not even surprised this is SO good but gosh how refreshing it is to take a break from reading my medieval literature shit from uni and read something that I actually enjoy

I love love this, cant wait to read more of ur stuff (and maybe, finally, see the reader and Nate in a relationship?? *awkward grin*)

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.

Yo

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?

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Officially going to the Lana del Rey concert in London and omg how cool is that?!? I had to brag, thank u for ur attention 👁️👄👁️

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Thank u @etherealily for the tag!! Also why oh WHY do you eat watermelon rinds, I’m scared.

Last song: liar liar by cris cab

Fav colour: bottle green

Last film: let them all talk

Last show: Suits

Sweet/spicy/savoury: savoury

last Google search: eels sex life (please don’t ask, my lecturer starting talking about it during one of his lectures. For the context, I’m an English lit major which makes the whole thing quite weird)

Tags (no pressure tho!): @eltanin-malfoy @runnning-outof-time @theshelbyslimited @yesimwriting @silentexplorer18 @drawlfoy

GET TO KNOW YOUR MUTUALS

Tagged by @bird-prince-art (THANK YOUUUUU SO SO MUCH <3)

💫 last song: Passerine by The Oh Hellos

💫 favorite color: Pastel yellow

💫 last film: Revenge of the Sith in theaters, The Breakfast Club at home (I say I watch it for the plot, the plot is Anakin and Allison respectively okay)

💫 last show: Better Call Saul!! I love my cunty lawyer show

💫 sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet with savory as a close second. But nothing. nothing beats sweet. give me the cavities

💫 last google search: "hurricane delta 2020" (research project purposes)

Tagging @cringekind @forceghostobikin @geospiral @billwasnot @spleenmuncher but no pressure as always of course <3 and anyone else who wasn't tagged but sees this and wants to join absolutely should!

[lilyrachelcassidy]

send this to ten other bloggers you think are wonderful. keep the game going!! 💗

Ditto<3

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Thank u for the tag love!!

Tagssssss: anyone plsssss feel welcome 🫶🫶

new tag game!!!

find a picture of your favorite actress/actor, city, and a book on your tbr list. ready, set, go!!!

tags: @angelinloove @lydiasfalling @cupidsremedy @haeerizm @caramelmiacchiato @cowboylikemily @xoxorory @anneberrieess @jjsblueberry @catacombspooks @noflowerwithoutrain @m3hlia39 @anyssaa @nanamoonnight @amrplastique @poetryinthesea @fwrails @blvndscr @shootingstargirl2001 @mia-is-delulu @jokerandthethief + anyone else who wants to do it

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Tysm for the tag babes

Such a fun thingy, won’t be tagging anyone but pls feel free to participate!!

you are going on a blind date that pinterest set up for you, find out who will be the lucky one and how the evening will end 💌

on pinterest search the following topics and post the first pin that will show up in each category

fictional character. date night. gift. outfit. dessert. love quote.

tysm lyssy for the tag this is so pretty!! @bloodstainedsapphic

Npt 🏷️@moonpascal @thatdammchickennugget @obsessedwithceleste @acourtofchaos @leona-hawthorne @gibsluv @ur-local-wizard @riddlesrizzler @dearmisshoney @musingsofahufflepuff

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Loving my Australian vogue so much cuz which other country is gonna produce the Jacob Elordi cover for this month 😭😭🫠🫠

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Lovie, thank u so much for tagging me 🫶🫶 all my love to u

Okay:

-favourite color: green

-currently reading: multiple books cuz of the uni — Ulysses, Society and Its Discontents, and Hamlet

-last song: The Lure (Main Theme) by the weeknd and MIKE DEAN

-last movie: The Hangover (rewatching for 10000000…th time)

-last series: Suits

-sweet, savoury or salty: same as my lovely friend above, I don’t pay much attention to food, as long as I’m full and exist lol; but should I choose, I would probably settle for sweet

-craving: sleep and a tall boyfriend THANK U

-tea or coffee: both!! Can we also add matcha to the equation??

-current WIP: huh that’s funny — multiple essays for the uni (yay 🤠🔫) and once done would probably return to the series Obsessed…

Spreading the love and tagging: @ecrisparfois @runnning-outof-time @theshelbyslimited @yesimwriting @justjacob-elordi @drawlfoy @zablife @burntsaltsblog @manicpixiefelix

nine people i want to get to know better

thank u for the tag @moonshapedbox <3

favourite colour: black n pink!

currently reading: aces of spades by faridah àbíké-ĺyímídé!

last song: a house in nebraska

last movie: the matrix revolutions (2003)

last series: the crow girl (2025)

sweet, savoury, salty: hmm.. depends!

craving: fries!

tea/coffee: tea!!

currently working on: college assignments... and part two of a fanfic!

🏷 - @wildflowerdoeeyed @dollaches @maggierheesgirl @necktattooed @pinescent-and-gingerbread @red-doll-face @zloshy

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Bestie,

How are your writings so stellar, comic, and cute every single time. I loved the idea of friendship between Nate and the reader, it felt really realistic, yet still a bit twisted which is kinda self-explanatory cuz yk Nate was involved lmao. Anyways, enjoyed this SO MUCH, a lovely take on a less psychotic version of Nate Jacobs hah

<33

🄱🄻🄸🄽🄳🄵🄾🄻🄳🄴🄳 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. SFW, but discretion advised. Drugs.

⚠ Not entirely happy with this, so when I'm back online, I'll probably edit it. ⚠

But here, check out my other Nate fics. If you have the time.

(HC : Head Cheer. QB: Quarterback. EH : East Highland.)

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

Desc. : His day one.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

June 2014, Freshman Year.

Nate had been pretty fucking sure he'd ace the tryouts for the football team. He was good and everyone fucking knew it. Him. His dad. Now, the issue was that East Highland was pretty fucking strict on their rule about no freshmen on the team unless they were Tom fucking Brady.

So, yeah. Last thirty minutes before the tryouts, he might have had a tiny fucking panic attack in the boys' locker rooms, palms in his face, strands of hair spewing between his fingers, knee bouncing - the whole shebang. No biggie.

And, of course he was careful not to create a rep around school that he was a pussy, or whatever, because he knew that no one else was as dedicated as he was to football (well, except that sophomore, McKay, who was already a shoo-in, and wouldn't come because the whole sophomore class was on some field trip) and hence, he'd be alone thirty whole minutes before tryouts.

That being said, he hadn't really done a Doctor Strange and calculated all the possibilities for stupid ass shit that could happen, seeing as you walked the fuck in, pom-poms and all, aggressively tapping on your phone, the dial tone on speaker as you looked up at the ceiling in frustration. "Pick the fuck up, pick the fuck up.", you'd been muttering under your breath. Voicemail.

"FUCK!"

The clang echoed throughout the lockers, intertwined with your yell.

You'd kicked the goddamn lockers. Something Nate would have only expected of himself. He jumped, and you finally noticed him. "How long you been fucking sitting there, creep?"

"Creep? You're the bitch in the boys' locker rooms!"

"You gonna kick me out?"

Okay, he was close to hyperventilating, a smartass lippy girl was the last thing he needed right now.

Scoffing, shook his head. "No. Knock yourself out. Literally. Keel over and die and shut up."

You'd flipped him off, he knew that, but he couldn't care right now.

"Wait, I fucking know you. Homeroom with Smith.", you mumbled, offhandedly.

"Well, fucking ace for you, man. Could you shut the fuck up?!"

You did, and he looked up, half-expecting you to have been looking at him hurt or tearing up, but you were back on your phone. That's when he noticed you were fucking trembling. Your phone was this close to falling.

"Yo, you good?", he asked, more out of annoyance than concern, but hey. He was being nice.

"How about you shut the fuck up?!", you retorted, the dial tone buzzing throughout the desolate locker room once more.

And, uh, yup, those were tremors. You were basically short-circuiting. "Uh, you really gotta sit down or something, you're two seconds away from blacking out or falling over."

Huffing, you plopped down opposite him, setting your phone down so hard, it was a miracle it didn't crack. Your knee bounced just like his, and you chewed on the inside of your bottom lip.

Clearly, he had to be the chill one here. Ugh.

Willing himself to look out at the window, the sun, the brightness, the birds-singing and all that bullshit to calm him down, he cleared his throat. "Homeroom with Smith, huh?" His voice was way more unsure than he'd wanted it to be.

Your eyes slowly moved from the fluorescent lights above him to his face. You nodded. "Bumped into you first day of school. Embarassing as hell."

Weird, what girls remember. He's tripped on air some twenty times in one day and you don't see him sitting here ages later, mortified about it.

"It's chill. My name's Nate."

"I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you.", he said, leaning over and extending his arm with exaggerated grunts of pain to make you laugh and chill the fuck out, and you met him halfway. "Likewise."

"I'm trying out for the football team. Being a rebel and whatnot."

"Oh, same. Not- not the football team. Cheer team. They don't accept freshmen, either, but I've, like, won gymnastics awards, so.", you shrugged.

"That's cool. I've been this jacked since I was twelve, so.", he grinned, mirroring your shrug. "Plus, I love football."

"I love cheer."

He curled his bottom lip down in acknowledgement. "Chill."

"They've all been here for an hour, intimidation-stretching, or whatever."

He raised both eyebrows in sheer surprise at that, thumbing behind him at the door. "The girls?" An hour?

You nodded. "Yeah. They're bitches."

"The fuck's intimidation-stretching?"

"Y'know, showing off their moves while, like, maintaining intense-eye-contact. To psych you out, or whatever."

"Oh, is that why you're so pressed? You're psyched out?"

"No. But they were outright makin' fun of me. So."

"Why, 'cause you're a freshman? That's bullshit. I doubt they even know how to spell gymnastics. Most of 'em are probably repeating twelfth grade.", he scoffed.

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. "So, are they all excluding you, too, or...?", you asked, glancing around at the empty locker room.

"Boys and girls are different. Your competition's been there for an hour. Mine won't be here till half a minute before the actual fucking tryouts."

"Wouldn't that make you a shoo-in? More dedication?"

He shook his head, bringing his knee onto the bench next to him, turning over to fix the laces on his cleats. "Doesn't work like that."

"Should."

He shrugged. "Lots of 'shoulds', y'know. None of them actually ever happen."

"What, like world peace?"

"Yeah, nah, fuck world peace."

"Careful, the UN will put a hit on you."

"I'll bomb 'em."

You snorted. "Sick."

He didn't exactly know what kind of 'sick' you meant, but something told him it was the kind that proved you shared his humour, maybe a bit.

Your phone dinged. "Fuck. Hey, our tryouts start in five, so."

"Chill. Break a leg."

"What?"

"Y'know, like good luck."

"That's for actors and musicians and shit. You and I better hope we don't break a leg.", you replied, accepting his fist-bump.

"Do well, then. You will. Good luck."

"You, too!", you called. "Thanks!"

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, now he had to go back to calming himself down without the diversion task of calming someone else down, too. Great.

~~

"Holy shit, Nate, holy shit, holy shit, holy--", you yelled, scampering hurriedly down the bleachers as he sprinted to you, catching you as you reached the last step, spinning you around. "Holy shit!"

"I know, I know, right?! They just let me in!", he exclaimed, setting you down. Neither of you had any idea what the fuck had just happened (panic-attack-trauma-bonding), but he didn't fucking care, too fucking exhilarated from his achievement to even think.

"Just? Dude, you were fucking bomb out there! You were like, fuckin' whizzing on the field, man!", you declared, punching his chest.

"How'd yours go?", he asked, trying to catch his breath from both the tryouts and the rush to the bleachers.

You zipped open your duffle, and he peered over into it. A flash of aquamarine. A fucking cheer uniform. "Let's fucking go!", he cheered, dapping you up. "What happened to the intimidation-stretching bitches?"

Thumbing to the other side of the field, you shrugged. "I'm definitely getting cyberbullied or something." Holy shit, those were some pissed off juniors.

"Yeah? That's how you know you won.", he laughed, rapping his fingers on his helmet, his eyes darting from it to you. "So, we're officially the coolest fucking freshmen ever."

"Yeah, it's like, officially EH lore now, for real."

"I'll see you out on the field, then? Once the season starts, in August?", he asked, slinging his bag onto his shoulder as you did the same with yours.

"Yeah, for sure. See you around, man."

He held out his fist, grinning when it met your own. "See you around."

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January 2016, last semester of Sophomore Year.

It was around this time that he'd met Maddy.

And he'd really fucking liked her.

His first ever girlfriend, and first ever love.

Or was she his first ever love? No, I mean, he loved her, but was she his first? Nah, you know what, no time for this bullcrap. You're not here for a psychoanalysis, no, you're here to watch his stupid decisions one by one by motherfucking one, like a cinema reel.

And sophomore year was one.

Look, he knew that to be a good boyfriend, kissing other girls was probably not a good idea. Loyalty and all that. It's the principle. But he couldn't just stop making out with you, I mean, you needed practice before going on your first date, and it's not like you could ask anyone else in this godforsaken school, now could you ( you didn't ask, but whatever. Irrelevant) ? No, he was the closest thing you had to a guy friend.

How'd it go, HC? Did you suck face?

No. He said he wants to go on a second date before all that.

He's a fairy.

What? Fuck you, man. Maybe he's just a gentleman.

Or maybe he just likes (gentle) men.

Put that wordplay into your English essays and maybe you'll beat me one day.

You bring up grades every time you lose an argument, it's fucking annoying.

Whatever, I got to get up and go to school tomorrow. Conduct cheer tryouts and whatever.

Night, HC.

Good night, QB.

See? It was actually weird how scared he was of Maddy finding his phone. Was it even flirting if he was just insulting you and letting you 'win' arguments half the time? No. It wasn't, so why was he worried Maddy might think it was? Maybe he was paranoid.

And yes, he could've just acquiesced once, instead of continuing to text you because he'd 'learnt a new move Maddy seemed to like', but it's the fucking considerate thing to do. What if the guy you were going out with whipped out some weird new thing with his tongue and you looked like an idiot? It's called friendship.

~~

"Oh, hey, I wanted to ask, you and Mads on or off again?", you asked, standing up to stretch, and then go on the same tour you always did around his room, when you were there for your blunt-sessions. His bedside, his dumbbells, his closet, his mirror, then back to him.

He scoffed as he lay down, patting the space next to him, that you thankfully filled. Gently stroking the hair on your forehead, he sighed, before taking a long drag of the joint. "Why? You need help? He's trying to take things to the next level or sm'n?"

"Yeah, but, like, Maddy's my friend now, you sure you can help me without it being weird?"

He didn't know why, but he didn't like the thought of his day-one calling someone else her friend. Rubbed him the wrong fucking way.

"Uh huh." He waved you off, putting it out. "It's cool. We're on a break, anyway. Okay, so second base.", he said, clapping his palms together as he sat up, gazing down at you, softly pushing you to lay back down. "Usually, he'll do a little something like - move your hair to the side for me, yeah, there we go - something like this...", he murmured, his lips dancing gently across your jugular vein before he seamlessly began lowering them to your clavicle. "And he'll probably get a little bit of this action.", he added, his hand fondling your breast over your clothes. "He might unclasp your bra if he's feeling confident, but that's more third base stuff, so I wouldn't worry about it."

"What if he does, though?"

"You can say 'stop'. As long as he isn't a rapist creep, then you're solid."

"He isn't. He's really nice."

"Ew, bro, are you blushing?", he mock-gagged, tossing a pillow at your face and sitting back on his heels as he lit up another doobie.

"Look, he's really nice, like, gentleman-type. I'm just grateful my first-ever boyfriend isn't a total dickwad."

He leaned over and nudged your foot with his elbow, watching you chuckle from the opposite edge of the bed. "No, seriously, why not just become official, if you're fine letting him feel you up? Is he someone super ugly? Like, social-suicide-level-ugly? Come on, who is it?"

"Shut up, I'm not telling you."

"Wow, okay, yeah, no, for sure. Not like I've been your best fucking friend since freshman fucking year.", he scoffed, doing his best to look hurt as he reached for his phone.

"Hey, hey, that's not fair!"

His phone buzzed. "Yo, that's probably Maddy, you should--"

"Don't change the fucking subject."

His phone rang, this time.

"Did your voice just go deeper?", you giggled, after he was done. Yeah, the weed was definitely hitting you like a freight train. He wasn't too far behind.

"Oh, fuck off.", he snorted, tossing another pillow at you.

And that was pretty much it. You never spoke of it again.

In fact, weirdly, you never spoke again, for rest of the year.

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June 2016, First Semester of Junior Year.

There comes a time in every girl's life where the guys in her life just do a full 180 and become absolute dicks in every sense of the word. They ghost you, or they bully you, or they start being overtly sexist around and to you. Now, the issue was that Nate was really fucking classy about it. So he wasn't uncouth or rude or anything, but the texts stopped.

With him now being official with Maddy, it had seemed the best way to ease his own conscience and make sure both of you had a smooth junior and senior year.

Now, the two of you had never been all BFF-goals during the first two years of school, aside from the sporadic text message you'd exchanged off the field. So, no, you didn't really care that the texts stopped - hell, you barely noticed. You had your own shit going on. Mutinies in the squad, favoritism from Coach to you, rumours of favoritism from you - the head cheer - to certain members, it was all confusion.

And, to top it all off, first home game of the season? You got sick.

A little rundown of EH football tradition. Home games are the best. Home games mean pep rallies. Pep rallies mean running through the cafeteria, jumping on tables while the cheerleaders hype them up. Slight problem. Nate had been under the impression that cheering couldn't happen without the head cheer.

Again, you couldn't particularly call him a friend in public because you'd get branded a slut quicker than you could shake your little pom-poms and if he called you a friend, he'd 100% lose face in front of the whole school quicker than he'd usurped the previous team captain in his freshman fucking year.

That being said, he wasn't one for unfairness.

And that's why he frowned when Coach asked him why in the hell he was getting his lunch instead of huddling up with the team for the pep rally. "Isn't that tomorrow?"

"When the hell did I tell you it was tomorrow, son, huh?"

"The head cheer's not here."

"So? Her deputy's there. What do I care if she isn't here? Go on, get."

Sure, games happen without the captain of the team, but they're usually crappy, and Coaches tend to postpone them. He'd figured that would be the same for a cheer squad, but apparently you being sick hadn't meant shit to the rest of your "team"?!

He thought that was bullshit, honestly. It was probably Christmas morning for the people you'd beat out and then graciously allowed into the squad this year. And then, Nate did something real fuckin' stupid. He listened to himself.

And somehow, his thoughts had led him to the grave conclusion that they'd been behind your sick leave of absence that day. Coughing on you or something, how should he know, he wasn't a fucking doctor.

And so, yeah, he may have tripped the bitches - whosever face he remembered, at least - who'd made fun of you and then somehow induced your illness, in the middle of the cafeteria.

"What the fuck, Jacobs?!"

"What? That shit was an accident! Like we don't have it worse out on the field. Suck it up, cheer, honestly."

Yeah, he'd gotten benched from that weekend's home game. Not for long, though, the team was dying without him, so Coach pulled him in barely two plays after benching him, which was fucking great.

What wasn't fucking great was that now Coach - and subsequently, the rest of the team - knew that he cared about who the fuck you were. None of the other guys here even knew there was a head cheer, much less who she was and why she was absent.

And now, you were unnecessarily on every one of his teammate's radars. The EH football team operated on a if-she-fucked-one-of-us-we're-all-her-type-basis.

What's worse, no one even told you about what Nate had done.

So, to recap, you didn't know why you were suddenly getting attention from the football team, and you also didn't know why Nate was suddenly watching you in the hallways, scrutinizing every interaction of yours.

You didn't know anything.

You were going into this blindfolded.

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December 2016, Last Semester of Junior Year

"Yo, HC!"

No fucking way!

Your head whipped around, and he was there, grinning, all teeth and chewing gum with his arms out wide as if you were supposed to jump into them. Hopping off the bus-stand-bench, you jogged over to him (not jumped, jogged), dropping your bags before he wrapped his arm around your shoulder so he could scratch his knuckles on your scalp.

He practically squeezed you, spinning you around the same way as the bleachers after your joint-crowning as the coolest fucking freshmen ever. "It's been, like, decades !"

"What are you doing here?"

"Maddy wanted me to pick her up - she had to stay after-school for something, I dunno - but she changed her mind last minute, she's going home with Cassie. So I'm just here. Walkin' around. Lookin' for the coolest junior HC in EH lore."

You laughed, and he squinted up at the sky, then down at his watch. "You need a ride? A real fucking ride, not some ten year old's wet dream of a joyride.", he scoffed, glaring at the bus-stand.

'Ride' being code for either E or blow.

You were wiped. Cheer tryouts take a lot out of you, especially when it's hot as fuck and some extremely untalented people start beef with you because they think you've rejected them just to be a bitch. Since morning, you've been sitting with Coach, working through batch after batch. And the new kids - they were the fucking worst.

And so, yeah, you abandoned your stupid ass bus ticket to go do weed with the QB of the team you cheered for.

Who wouldn't?

~~

"So why did Maddy just ditch you?"

"She didn't ditch me.", he reminded, watching you take a long drag of the blunt from his peripheral. "She said she forgot she had a sleepover at Cassie's."

"Yeah, I figured she might wanna celebrate with her, first.", you muttered, offhandedly. Nate almost screamed.

"Celebrate what?" As far as he knew, it was nowhere close to either Maddy's or Cassie's birthday.

"She didn't text you yet?", you asked, sitting up and resting your elbows on your knees.

"About what?"

"She made the cheer squad today. They both did."

He had to sit up for that one. "She tried out for the cheer squad?"

He vividly remembered telling her not to. He didn't like extraneous variables, and you and her being in close proximity definitely was one.

"She made the cheer squad."

"You approved it? What, as, like, a favour to me, or some shit?"

You snorted, leaning over to place the blunt on his lips which he took a drag of, before tapping your nose and taking the whole thing from you. He was gonna need a couple more puffs, that was for sure. "I approved it because she's really fucking good."

"Uh huh."

"I'm serious."

"Yeah?", he grumbled, blowing a bubble with his gum before chewing it again.

"She didn't tell you she was trying out? Fuck, maybe she wanted it to be a surprise, and I fucked it up."

"No, she's just a bitch when she wants to be."

"Lay off her, man, you know she's too good for you."

He really couldn't argue with that. But he'd sure as fuck try. "In what way? We're soulmates or whatever."

"Aren't soulmates supposed to give you peace?"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he flicked your forehead. "How's it going with you and fairy-guy?"

"Good, weirdly. He's sweet. And that wasn't a line, he really did want to get to know me before any of the first base stuff."

"So you're, like, you guys are a thing now?", he asked, smoke enveloping his view of the ceiling.

"Why's your room so boring, bro? Like, it's... it's all one colour."

"Uh, no, there's grey, there's white, there's black.", he retorted, clearing his throat as he crossed his legs, watching you run your finger over his dumbbells. "No, seriously, you guys fucked yet?"

"Nate!"

"What?", he chuckled, shrugging as he grunted, getting up to kneel on the bed. "I'm just saying. On-and-off be damned. You can't just stop at second base. You gotta let him in you."

"You're gross.", you muttered, moving to his closet before he stopped you. "Gross? Gross?", he scoffed, grabbing your arm and pulling you to kneel on the bed with him. "You're a prude. I bet you don't even know how it works.", he said, blowing some smoke - and some wisps of your hair away - at your face.

"I do, too, know how it works."

"Sure, the mechanics. What goes where. But if I asked you how it felt?"

"I know how it feels."

"I swear to god, man, you're gonna start listing off the hormones involved in sex and I'm going to get a fucking aneurysm.", he replied, brushing the hair he'd just blown out of place back into place.

"Fine, then you tell me how it feels. Mister-Seventeen-Year-Old-Sex-Expert--"

If there was a camera like in The Office, he'd have smirked into it. It's funny you thought you would get to finish that sentence with how fucking blitzed he was. Naïve, more like.

"Maddy really fucking loved this one.", he groaned against your lips, sitting back on the bed and bringing you down on top of him. "You should try it with fairy-guy."

"Which one?"

"The thing I'm about to do with my tongue. Just wait."

See, tiny problem. He'd been so focused on actually getting you to agree to make out with him for the first time in a fucking long time (so much for ignoring you out of guilt) that he hadn't exactly thought of what 'new thing' he was going to show you when he did.

"Hey! Whoa!"

"What? This is still second base!", he murmured, his lips now on your collarbone, his hand gently unclasping your bra.

"I thought third base was, like, French-kissing."

"Any kind of kissing is first base. God, I have so much to teach you, young Padawan."

His phone buzzed. Ugh. "Yo, Nate, that's probably Maddy, you should-- Nate. Come on. We're high.", you reminded, and he nearly fucking hit you, rolling his eyes as he watched you get off his lap and hand him his phone.

"What, Maddy? Uh-huh, yeah, I know, I heard. I bumped into Y/N, and she told me. Yeah. We're gonna talk about this shit later. Yeah, I'm real fucking happy for you, did you forget what we talked about? I said don't try out for- yeah? Then why the fuck--? No, no, don't make this into some feminist issue-- right, okay, listen, I'm out right now, I'll call you later."

He sighed as he set his phone down and looked at you, a fucking vision. Yeah, probably not the best idea, fucking you right now.

He had to do that fully conscious.

"Who is fairy-guy? You realise he's basically your Maddy, right? On-and-off, pushing you to your fucking limit?"

You rolled your eyes, flipping him off as you stretched.

"Come on. Who am I gonna tell?"

"Everyone!"

He guffawed, rolling his eyes and pressing his lips to your temple as he busied his fingers with your hair again. "C'mon."

"You're not gonna tell anyone, alright?"

"Cross my heart."

"Say the next part."

"Jeez- cross my heart and hope to die. You want a pinky promise next?"

"Yeah, actually. We're keeping it low-key, and I can't have you spreading it all around."

Huffing magnanimously, he gripped your pinky with his, both of you kissing your own fists as you did. "Alright. This guy better be the Pope or some shit."

"It's Christopher McKay."

If he hadn't already been sitting down, he'd have fainted. "What the fuck?! McKay!?"

"Yeah, why? You regret the whole fairy-guy comment now, don't you?"

"I mean, he isn't a fairy, definitely not. But, y'know, I- nah, never mind. Whatever. Good for you guys.", he muttered, pulling your face into his chest as he squeezed you tighter.

Okay, maybe that was the tiniest bit manipulative. No one gives a shit, shut up. Three, two, one...

"But what?"

There it is. He smiled against the top of your hair.

"But nothing. He's my homie. I can't fuck this up for him."

"And what? I'm not?", you asked, pulling away from his chest. "Tell me!" He had to hold your wrists together to make sure you didn't accidentally uppercut him.

"It's just... y'know, he's like, nice and all.", he cleared his throat. He was such an asshole. He shouldn't be talking his friend down. Fuck! "The nice guys are usually the fake ones. The ones that only want one thing."

"You're telling me McKay's like that?"

"I mean, he could've changed, but that's... we can't judge people on their worst mistakes."

He was going to hell.

You shifted, biting your lip unsurely as you sat up to put out the blunt, and then stared at his wall in thought, your arms around your knees.

"What? You're giving him the benefit of doubt?"

You shrugged. "I don't--"

"Wow. Right. Noted. Okay."

Shaking your head, you sat up, looking down at him. "Don't do that."

"Do what?", he grumbled.

"Take everything so personal."

"How else am I fucking supposed to take it when you're basically choosing McKay's words over mine?"

"One year, man, a whole year, and he hasn't done anything--"

"Three years, and I haven't done anything to hurt you!"

You went silent at that, and he shuffled up onto his elbows, moving some hair to nestle behind your ear. "Have I?"

Please don't bring up the ghosting, please don't bring up the ghosting.

"Well... no."

"You need to talk about this shit beforehand, man. Maddy and I did."

"Right, like your relationship isn't the 10th circle."

"I know you and I know him. Who's better to mediate? Next time we're all together, we'll talk this shit out, okay?"

Shut up, alright? Maybe he's changed. Maybe he really wanted to fix you and McKay up!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

January 2017, New Year's, last semester of Junior Year.

The door slammed, and you flinched, closing your eyes momentarily.

"Yo, you wanna explain that shit out there?"

"What?"

"He just fucking kissed you."

"That's what boyfriends do. Go do some of that with Maddy, your relationship issues will be solved."

"I'm just saying, maybe you should hold off on the PDA until you sort shit out between yourself. Isn't that why I'm here? Ignoring the fact you didn't even trust me enough to tell me McKay was fairy-guy!"

"And how does Maddy feel about that? Does she even know?"

"Like McKay knows we're friends?"

"Yeah, he does! I got nothing to hide!"

Silence. Then, "That's why he glared at me when he kissed you."

"He didn't do shit, you're delusional! Alright?! Not every fucking thing is about you! It's always about you! God, you don't deserve her, you know?"

"You shut the fuck up about Maddy and me, okay?!", he cried, taking a swig from his bottle before placing it with a clink on the counter.

He was growing louder and coming closer. Oh, this absolute brotard!

"Then you shut the fuck up about McKay and me!"

He glared at you for a minute. "You're pissing me off! Fuck! You've been doing this shit all season, I came to this stupid fucking party to chill out, and here you are, messing with me again!"

"How the fuck am I messing with you, fucktard?! We haven't even spoken in--"

"You know, you're really fucking with me right now?! Really fucking getting on my last goddamn nerve!", he continued, jaw clenched as his fingers grabbed your jaw, digging into your cheeks.

"You're gonna have to leave me the fuck alone, from now, okay?!"

"And what's with unfollowing me? What- loyalty to your boyfriend? What the fuck's that bullshit about?!", he scoffed, ignoring you completely, blatantly. "After everything I've done for you?!"

"Like what?! Teaching me how to kiss?! Huh? Or feeling me up and pretending like that was you helping me?"

Oh, fuck. McKay had been telling you the same shit about Nate as Nate had about McKay. Fair. Karma.

"Hey, fuck you, that was me helping you! You think I'd want to feel you up, huh? Or fuck you?!", he screamed, and you were pretty sure with how hard his thumbs were pressing, you'd wake up with dimples the next morning.

"Yeah, actually! I think you're a fucking creep, yeah, I think you'd want to, 100%!"

His glare shifted almost imperceptibly from your eyes, pooled with rage and a mild hint of fear, to your lips, and before you noticed it, he'd already come crashing down on them.

One thing was clear from the kiss. Nate Jacobs no longer thought you were a good friend. In fact, he probably fucking hated you. This was a hate-kiss, and usually, they're far, far better than the ones given by people who you love (and who love you).

It was now your turn to grip his jaw, and you had to pry him off you. You glared at him for a moment, breathless and pissed, before you shook your head. "Get your shit together, Jacobs! I really like McKay."

He nodded, earnestly. "And I really love Maddy."

And then he was on you again, hands unsure where the fuck to go, but sure that they had to hold you right fucking there. So one of them was on your shoulder, grip so tight you'd be close to buckling if the other one hadn't been on your rear, gluing you to him.

"Yeah, Maddy! She's one of my best friends!", you yelled, and he shrugged.

"McKay's one of my best friends."

Simple as that. You had no fucking idea what that was supposed to prove, or state, but there he was, on your lips again, yanking you back against him as his fingers groped for the doorknob behind him.

Click.

No fucking way this piece-of-shit-disgrace-to-humanity thought you were gonna fuck him in a party bathroom.

"I don't think so!", you scoffed, shoving him away. "Fuck off, Nate, seriously! You have got to stop drinking, man."

"Would you break up with McKay if I broke up with Maddy?"

"Huh- what, no!"

"If I promised to love and cherish you and all that bullshit, would you?"

"Are you jealous?"

It's a quiet question, because raising your voice when asking him something that accusatory is a death sentence. You're lucky you stepped back, because he'd have lunged at you, right then, right there.

"Of what? Fucking you? You and McKay? No, you pansies deserve each other!"

"Could you put that shit down, for fuck's sake?!", you screamed, and he nodded, taking the last swig before throwing it on the floor, where it rattled weakly by your feet. "Alright, listen, you're switching up on me, Nate, real fast, and it's confusing. You wanna love and cherish me one second, and I'm a pansy the next?"

"Listen, I'm hammered, yeah? Don't- don't put too much stock into what I say."

Was he... was he trembling?

"Okay. You wanna… you want some space, to like, recover? Can I go?"

"Could you not?"

Fuck. You'd hoped he'd kick you out.

"Please?"

"Yeah, okay, okay, chill, I'll stick around."

"Thank you." Ew, that was so foreign out of his mouth, you had to do a double-take.

And then he did something devastatingly worse than kissing you. He hugged you, the same way he'd hugged you when you two were fourteen and coming fresh off the accomplishment of breaking East Highland's no-freshman-on-any-team-rule. His nose in your hair, his arms around your back, your hands in the back of his hair. Yeah, it was an extremely cheap replica of that moment. No bleachers, a goddamn party bathroom.

He breathed against your ear, the rate of it increasing as he tugged you closer, doing his best to merge himself to you. "You're gonna have to stop being nice to me, or I'm going to leave my girlfriend for you." It came out as a whisper, an afterthought, an uncertainty.

You snorted, stroking the hair at his nape once more. "Yeah, sure, I'll just be a cunt."

"You can't do that, either. You seen me and Maddy? Pisses me off. And anger just turns me on, clearly. "

"Indifference, then? That's what you want from me?"

"I just want you to be there, okay?"

"What, like a backup? You and Maddy are on a break, and you get to stick your tongue in my throat?"

"You'd keep me in check, y'know?", he grumbled, kissing your cheek in the most genuinely friendly way possible. "I wouldn't go around fucking random whores."

"Only you, Nate, could justify this shit."

"Come on, HC, you know you love me."

You did not love Nate. You just couldn't love him when he was here so pathetically, clinging onto you like he'd made nothing but a series of mistakes in his whole life, and you were the only thing that wasn't one of them.

"You need me to help you sober up? I could get you water. Bread, to soak up the liquor."

"I just need you."

Great, he was being cute, now. Fucking ace.

Ugh. What a disgusting thing to say. After ghosting you, acting like he was better than you?

But then, he was muttering things that, if you'd heard them right, almost sounded like he was saying he'd missed you, and you weren't so sure.

"Hey, whoa, Nate--"

And then you felt like a cunt, because his face looked like the first time you'd seen him. In fact, it was exactly the same as the first time you'd seen him. Jesus. He wasn't panic-attacking on you, was he? He trembled once more, and then you realised, yes, he was.

Not just on you.

About you.

Which was just fucking great.

"Homeroom with Smith, huh?", you mumbled against his temple.

He nodded. "I bumped into you. Embarrassing as hell."

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September 2018, Senior Year.

By your senior year, McKay had moved on to college (and Cassie Howard), and you were actually kind of enjoying life. Sure, the odd jock who thought you'd fucked both Nate and McKay asked you out, but hey. You were still free to say no. What could he do? Blackmail you with nudes you'd never given out, or sex tapes you'd never filmed?

"Thank you, girl, fuck!", squealed Taylor, a freshman (who, like you, had also won gymnastics awards, making you feel a very fucking full-circle, Disney-movie-type-feeling) hugging you as tight as possible without you ending up asphyxiated. "I didn't think I'd make it!"

"You're really fucking good, freshie, c'mon. You'd have made it, either way. Welcome to the squad.", you laughed, handing her the cheer uniform.

"I'm gonna look so fucking sexy in this."

"Yeah, you probably will, yeah.", you nodded, chuckling as she waved.

Your cheer coach high-fived you as you shut the gymnasium doors and took down the sign for 'Cheer Tryouts'. "So, we got, what, three new girls? That's good. Great, even."

"Whoa, no, we got two. Taylor Kingsley and Carmen Adams, this year."

"Oh. We need one more. The formation we have planned for this year needs an overall even number."

"Wildcard? Call one of the graduated cheerleaders? Someone from, uh, Chris McKay's batch, maybe?"

"Could work.", she muttered, thoughtfully. "I'll see if we can change it up or add an extra base or flyer in the middle or something. We'll get back to you. Stay online, okay?"

"Yes, Coach."

You slung your bag onto your shoulders as you trudged out to the bus-stand in front of the school. The late, 4-O'clock- sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the nostalgic feeling that comes with being a senior was ringing through you.

And you should have just gone straight home from there. But, uh. Something came up.

Long time, HC. How you been?

Yeah, good, QB. You?

I'm fine. 🍃? My place in 5?

Fuck. First thing this guy texts you in a whole two academic years and it's asking you to get wasted. Fucking hell. It was so unbelievably Nate, you had to laugh.

Can't in 5. Maybe in 10. Need to get home and change.

Bet. See you.

Did you even really wanna go was the question. You were wiped, once again. You'd had back-to-back double gym in the morning, then two pop quizzes and then cheer practice, then you and Coach had to conduct cheer tryouts.

Wait, did you just give yourself reasons to go get high with your day-one? Yeah. Fuck.

Talk about full-circle.

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Hi babyyyy I finally reactivated my main so I can message you 💗💗

First off, I love you and I grin so huge when I see you on my dash

And second, I'm going to be the annoying one who reminds you that you owe us all a part 2 of Obsessed because... 😵‍💫 (take ur time tho)

I love you!

-V

GURL I LOVE YOU.

Thank you so much for checking in<3

YESSS, I do remember I still have to post obsessed, I plan it to be a whole mini series, but so much is going on in my life rn that I simply don't have time to attend to that *sigh*

Once my semester is done for, which would be probably early June, imma start writing again cuz I miss y'all and I feel like an asshole for leaving u hanging like that:( But the work is my drafts so don't worry

all love<3

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Omg, NAURRR. The way I would die for that to happen 🥹🥹

❝ CLOUD NINE ❞

fluff. Jacob Elordi x Reader.

Jacob was obsessed with you.

Not in the creepy, stalkerish way, no, he was obsessed in the way that made his heart race whenever you laughed. In the way that had him stealing glances at you when you weren’t looking, smiling to himself like a complete fool. In the way that turned him into a giant, 6’5 lovesick puppy whenever you were around.

And right now, he was being the biggest sap imaginable.

You were sitting on the couch, wrapped up in one of his hoodies (which practically swallowed you whole), scrolling on your phone. You weren’t even doing anything special, but Jacob was staring at you like you’d just invented the sun.

“You’re staring,” you murmured without looking up.

Jacob grinned, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Can’t help it. You’re cute.”

A laugh bubbled out of you as you turned to face him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you, yeah.”

Your face warmed, but before you could protest, Jacob was already attacking you with kisses, peppering them all over your face, your nose, your forehead, anywhere he could reach.

“Jacob!” you squealed, giggling as you tried to squirm away.

“Nope,” he said, wrapping his arms around you like a koala. “You’re stuck with me, sorry.”

You huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but the way you melted into his hold gave you away. “You’re such a golden retriever boyfriend.”

“Damn right,” he said proudly. “And you love it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the fond smile on your lips betrayed you. “Yeah. I do.”

Jacob beamed, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before pulling you even closer.

And as he held you, breathing you in, he realized, this was it.

His favorite place in the whole world. Right here. With you.

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Doing it just in case BUT I’m currently applying for the jobs so I can just hope it works

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Jacob Elordi | Bottega Veneta fashion show during the Milan Womenswear Spring/Summer 2025 | September 21, 2024

[lilyrachelcassidy]