#euphoria x you

[simkaswriting]

♡dating jacob elordi♡

[sukunasbow]

best friends, cassie howard and maddy perez.

summary: in which things heat up when cassie and maddy approach you at a party.

warnings: switch!reader, threesome, face riding, oral!

notes: enjoy this draft while i work on new things! promise to post something good in a bit! p.s, this is not proof read, sorry babes!

Cassie Howard and Maddy Perez have been close for a long time now. They are used to sharing things, like lots of friends do. From clothes to beds when Maddy sleeps over at Cassie’s place to escape the yelling in her house, and now, you.

When the two girls heard from BB that you were throwing a party, they immediately told you that they’d be attending, and then went home to pick what to wear, even if the party wasn’t for another week.

Now, it’s the night of the party and they enter your house, getting stared at by guys from school as they move through the crowd of drunk teenagers. It’s impossible not to notice the blonde and brunette duo, their matching outfits showing off their bodies. Cassie is, of course, wearing the pink set, while Maddy has on the same set in black.

“Do you see her?” Cassie attempts to ask her friend, her voice going unheard considering the loud music. She stops walking in the middle of the living room, Maddy following her lead.

“Hey, have you seen the host?” Maddy asks a random boy beside her.

“(Y/N)?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Cassie nods. The boy points towards the kitchen and Cassie quickly grabs her friend’s hand, leading her towards the kitchen. “There.” The blonde grins.

“Damn.” Maddy mumbles, watching as you’re lying down on the kitchen island as Jules does body shots on your stomach, a group of people cheering her on. “I’d kill to be Jules right now.” Maddy jokes, earning a laugh from her friend.

“Jules, come on, you’ve had enough.” You prop yourself up and off the counter, taking the bottle of liquor out of her hand before she pours another drink. Jules has been doing this for a while now, to the point that her best friend, Rue, gave up and walked away. “Jules, go find Rue and get a glass of water.” You sigh as the girl tries to take the bottle back.

“God, the two of you are so boring.” She huffs, however, still following your advice and walking out of the kitchen, the crowd slowly exiting as well.

Getting off the counter and tugging at your dress, you pull the tight fabric down your legs a little. You then place the bottle on the counter after taking a quick swig.

“Hey.” Maddy and Cassie smile in unison when they approach you.

You try to hold yourself back from gasping at the girls, looking them up and down. “I see the two of you went for the matching look.” You laugh.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Maddy rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue.

“Oh, it definitely was. You both look hot.” You grab two red solo cups from the counter, then taking the same bottle from earlier and pouring the two girls drinks.

“Thank you.” They take the cups and are quick to down them.

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” Cassie suggests, turning to look at Maddy, then back at you.

You bite your lip as the two girls stare at you in anticipation, copying your move from earlier and checking you out, admiring how your dress fits on you. “Let’s go, this party could use some fun.” You cave.

“For sure.” Maddy and Cassie are quick to lead you upstairs and towards your bedroom.

“Cute room.” Cassie sits down on the bed next to you and Maddy, looking around the room.

You start feeling increasingly anxious, unsure of what to do and say. However, you push through it and try to remain calm. “Thanks.” You smile.

“(Y/N), don’t be shy. Take off my shirt.” Cassie says, her soft voice encouraging you to comply. Your lips part as you carefully remove the thin pink fabric off of her body, revealing her breasts.

“You’re so beautiful.” You hum, leaning towards her and pressing gentle kisses on her neck, before stopping when Maddy interrupts.

“Awh, what about me?” The girl on the other side of your bed whines, her lips forming into a fake pout. Unlike Cassie, Maddy proves to be more dominant with her actions, grabbing your hands and guiding you to pull off her black top. She tosses her shirt on the floor, Cassie then doing the same. “Here.” Maddy quietly says, once again taking your hands and placing them on her breasts. Her nipples are hard, Maddy’s entire body begging for you to touch her. You carefully massage them, eager but quiet moans escaping from the girl.

Cassie then moves closer to you from behind, stopping you from continuing on with Maddy as the two girls work on taking your dress off, leaving you in nothing but your small thong.

Maddy gently moves you hair out of your face, “Lie down, baby.” She instructs you.

You do as she says, lying back on the bed, unsure of what the girls have planned. Cassie climbs towards you, leaning down and kissing you, before positioning yourself so her cunt is hovering about your mouth. Now, you understand what she wants. “Say please.” You change your tone, feeling more confident in yourself.

The blonde whines, “Please.”

“Good girl.” Maddy chimes in. She’s now starting to work on pleasuring you, kissing up your thighs, until she reaches your cunt. You can feel her breath, it’s as if she’s waiting for you to make the first move, so you do.

Cassie fully places her cunt on your mouth as you slowly lick one stripe up her folds. “Fuckkkk…” She moans, desperate for more and starting to grind against your tongue.

“Keep going.” Maddy tells you as she starts to do the same to you, instead thrusting her tongue into you, earning muffled moans from you as you move your tongue around Cassie’s folds, coaxing out juices as you make your way to her clit. More moans abrupt from you and Cassie. Maddy is teasing you, her tongue flicking slowly on your own clit, your legs slightly shaky. Your hands make their way up Cassie’s waist, sitting there for a moment and guiding her hips with the movement of your tongue on the swollen nub. Cassie has different plans, however, her mouth dropping in pleasure as she drags her hands to her tits, getting you to massage at her nipples, adding to the wave of pleasure going through her.

“Shit, (Y/N).” Cassie gasps, her eyes rolling back.

“Doing so good for Cass, hm?” Maddy muffles as she eats your pussy.

Like the two of you are in sync, you and Maddy thrust your tongues deeper, Cassie going silent, unable to even make a sound as she desperately cums on your face. Moments later, you do the same as Cassie, Maddy sending you over the edge. Your juices flow out of your cunt, Maddy pulling away and licking her lips. “You taste so good.” She smirks.

Cassie gets off of you, her chest rapidly moving up and down as she relaxes after her orgasm. “You’re so fucking good at that.” She praises you.

Meanwhile, Maddy slides your panties back onto you, then moving towards your face. “Mm, Let me clean you up.” She gently grabs your face with her hands and kisses you, the two of you exchanging Cassie’s juices. Next to the two of you on the bed, Cassie grins.

“We should seriously do this again.” Cassie catches your attention and you and Maddy stop kissing.

“Obviously.” Maddy laughs.

[etherealily]

𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃 // Nate Jacobs.

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

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

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

Desc.: You're needed. Now.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

It's not like you even knew Nate.

You knew of him, sure, quarterback and shit, but still, it was unlikely your paths would ever cross.

Until they did.

Until he started following you on Instagram.

That shit... was so unbelievably odd that you almost blocked him because you thought it was a fake account. But then you saw the mutuals. Holy shit. This was legit.

The fact that his account was private didn't surprise you. Yours was public because you had nothing to post and his was private because he had everything to hide.

You sent him a request. No biggie. I mean, he had to accept, right? He was the one who followed you first - it was only fair. And if it took too long, then you could always unsend it, yeah? Yeah.

It didn't take too long. It barely took three minutes.

Okay. Cool. Weird but cool.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you. An average social media interaction. Good.

--------

Come Friday evening, you decided that watching Maddy cheer was a little less important than your deadline and building your portfolio.

She absolutely supported you (rolled her eyes and said 'whatever, nerd. You still love me, right?') but was a little upset about it (pouted and called you a cunt).

Three hours went by, and you surprised yourself with the amount of work you were getting done. This is great. Friday evening well spent. Work a bit more, and then-

Nate Jacobs tagged you in a Close Friends story.

Close Friends? Tagged? NATE JACOBS?

Okay, one : no fucking way were you on his Close Friends.

Two : there were virtually zero pictures of the two of you, so tagging you was moot.

Three : there was supposed to be a game starting about fifteen minutes from now, Blackhawks versus whatever pretentious team they were going to beat, so why the fuck was he even online?

(Oh, yeah, the Blackhawks were absolutely fucking awesome.)

The story was only text. Text and nothing more.

Y/N, accept my message request. Now. I am not fucking around.

What message request? WHAT the fuck was going on?

You frowned, immediately scrolling over to messages. Shit. There was a request.

A picture, along with six other messages.

This was so strange. It was especially strange that he found the time to text you, when he was supposed to be practicing throwing the old pigskin around for the victory of his school. But text you he did. As if him following you wasn't enough to give you whiplash. "Yo."

"You're not here." No shit, Sherlock.

"You should be."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? This was the most excruciatingly awkward interaction you'd ever had.

"You should be here. Come."

Did he think he was super macho with all this mysterious, vague, one-word bullshit he was spewing? You know what, you'd actually bet your entire school tuition he did. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking why.

"U don't just send requests to random people. Don't act like you don't know me. Don't ignore my texts."

"I'm fucking losing it. Come now or else."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

This was the most random thing to ever happen to you. Nate Jacobs, some random jock you never even said one word to, was texting you as if you had been best friends since two years old and you had always been all rah-rah-go-team for him.

You were almost scared to open the picture. Instagram asked you if you were sure. Once, twice. You should have listened. But you didn't, and you were about to face the consequences.

Red. That was the first thing you saw, and the first thing that had ever grossed you out enough to physically throw your phone away.

So much red.

Above the red, concealed almost cruelly, was a black box with white text in it. For a moment, your eyes were overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with the monstrosity in front of you that you couldn't even begin to comprehend what the words meant. You picked your phone back up, squinting your eyes and blocking out the rest.

He must have noticed you accepted his request, because you saw 'Typing...' pop up way too fast for him not to have been waiting.

"I'll cut deeper if you don't show up."

Nate Jacobs was a cruel and manipulative bastard of a man who you would happily let die.

But not like this.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You glanced at the screen and then back at the road, from time to time. There was no indication that he was typing. The 'online' sign still stayed. Okay. So he either just threw his phone away while still on your chat or he was about to-

Nate Jacobs started an audio call.

Clearly tonight wasn't going to be the night you stayed in and finished all your assignments, like you'd decided.

"Pick up or I'll fucking kill you."

Yup, that sounded about right.

You laughed, incredulously. The genuine threat wasn't lost on you, but what else does one do in this situation besides laugh at the absurdity of it all?

Better safe than sorry. You swiped up.

"Y/N, please just come."

It felt so weird to hear him say your name. It felt even weirder to hear him say 'please'.

"Why?"

"You need to be here." His voice was unwavering.

"Look, Jacobs, I'm sorry, but I have projects and assignments to work on. Not to mention, my portfolio-"

You wanted to see how far you could take it. He couldn't hear your car's sounds, and he couldn't possibly track your location, so according to him, you were still sitting at home, petulantly.

If he was joking, he'd just cuss you out drunkenly. If he wasn't, he'd... keep begging.

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, just come!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Keeping your calm was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself, the greatest form of self-care you could give yourself, because Nate Jacobs sensing nervousness was like sharks smelling blood in the water. Quick and bad.

"I have important shit, too, you know? Scouts are here, Y/N, please!"

"Look-"

"Coach, I know, just five more minutes - FUCK, Y/N, you gotta come.", he pleaded, his tone becoming far too pathetic to brush off.

"Why?"

"Why? Whaddayamean why?", he huffed out, frustrated, as if you were supposed to know this already.

2 + 2. What galaxy we live in. The colour of the sky. Why you were needed at the game. According to this asshole, all these things were common knowledge.

"I will cut deeper."

"Stop bullshitting, Jacobs."

You hoped to god that your voice didn't betray your bewilderment. This better be a sick fucking joke.

"I'm cutting."

"Stop."

"Coach says the five minutes are up, but I won't play without you here."

A video. SHIT. FUCK.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Actually, no. This better not just be a joke, because if the entire school was in on this shit, you would end up cutting him.

The grunts of pain and sharp inhales from his side of the call got more and more grotesque as you pulled into the school parking lot.

The school had an unsettling vibrancy to it after hours, and this was only exacerbated by the fact that you were supposedly the cause for a boy to slice through his own skin. It shouldn't have seemed this vibrant, this overwhelming, this vivid, this.... bright, but it did. The world moved at an eerily quick pace, like a carnival ride on LSD.

As you ran across the parking lot and gripped the gate to the stadium and basically swung right past it, you finally realized how fucking loud a crowd could be.

It was like they knew that their QB might be bleeding out because of you, because they seemed to scream loud enough to torture you for eternity.

Immediately manhandled by Chris McKay -another jock you had absolutely no connection to, but who seemed to have a very personal grudge against you-, you were pushed out of the locker rooms as quickly as you came in. Fuck's sake.

"Let me go , McKay!"

"Coach is trying to calm him down, and if he sees you, we got no idea what he might do, okay? OKAY?", he ordered, sternly, through clenched teeth as he shook your shoulders.

He was earnestly trying to be calm and gentle, but his fingers gripping harder and harder into your arms did jackshit to help his case.

"Okay."

He nodded, sighing in some emotion that seemed oddly like relief.

What, did he expect more of a fight? Did he expect you to be all 'no, I gotta see him now?'

You had no clue who the hell this bastard was, let alone what he wanted. No way were you going to kick and shout for him.

"What the fuck is his problem?", you asked, sighing against McKay's chest, exhausted.

He shrugged, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "He's stressed about the game."

"So he cuts himself in my name? We don't even know each other, dude!"

"Okay, he isn't exactly the one you go to for rationality, alright?"

"Yo, the fuck's going on, man? The game was supposed to start-"

The other team's captain.

"Yeah, we're just, uh, dealing with a situation over here.", assured McKay, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from going ballistic at Nate. Or you. Most likely Nate. But even more likely you. "Tell your coach we're so sorry, and we'll be out in a minute, tops."

The other guy scoffed, grumbling as he stomped away, glaring more at you than McKay. What, did everyone know now?

"He thinks we're trying to hook up before the game.", explained McKay, patiently, almost embarrassed. "It's a thing some athletes do, 'for luck'."

Jocks were the weirdest fucking aliens to ever exist.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Crimson traced paths through the blinding white of the bandages wrapped tightly like dependent vines around his palm. Noticing the lack of uniformity of white, Coach tsked. "We need more. McKay!"

"Yes, Coach?"

"One more, then you can send her in."

"She came?" Nate's voice, though feeble and exhausted - and now, hopeful - was heard through the tiny gap in the door that McKay made sure would remain tiny as he passed the last bandage to him, and you didn't want to admit it, but it broke your heart.

Ew. Nate Jacobs was breaking your heart?

Coach finished wrapping Nate up, and McKay guided you in, with both measured aggression and protectiveness.

Nate's eyes lifted and brightened up immensely, a feat you'd only thought possible by a lone spark igniting and breaching every inch of a dry leaf.

"You came."

"Son, I don't know what the hell you were thinking-"

"No, no, Coach, she's here, we can play."

Everyone stopped breathing at that moment. What the hell did the self-wounding quarterback asshole just say?

"What'd you just say, Jacobs?"

"We can play. Y/N's here. This isn't my good palm, anyway, so it's fine. Let's go."

And just like that, Nate was back. The amount of theses that could be written on this sheer anomaly of a man, the amount of studies that could be conducted, the amount of shock anyone else in this situation would go through- all unheard of.

No one else could handle it, though, besides all the people right there in the room. The best friend : self-taught and well-versed in handling him, the Coach : the authority figure that could calm him down with a bunch of fatherly words and....

And you : no one knew what the fuck you brought to the table. But something told you no one else would have survived in your shoes.

"Alright... then...?" Even Coach was absolutely speechless.

Nate nodded briskly, shooting up with a sudden burst of energy as he smiled at you.

Smiled.

Ladies and gentlemen : Nate Jacobs was on crack, confirmed.

He drew you in against his chest with an extremely unprecedented jerk, and you locked eyes with McKay behind him as he did so.

Not crack. Probably fent.

Your questioning gaze- which obviously said 'what in the everloving fuck is he doing?' - was met with a shrug and a look which suggested he barely even recognized his best friend right now.

"Okay, let's go WIN this motherfucker!", shouted Nate, patting your shoulder and loudly clapping his hands together before sprinting out of the locker rooms into the cheering football field.

It was dressed entirely in Blackhawk colours and bathed in a fluorescent, sickeningly pale light that you had to now spend an hour and a half in. Ugh.

Whiplash or not, you were about to throw up.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You know those moments after a surreal event? When you just... sit. Stare into space and... ruminate.

You were having one of those in your car. The game had ended, really well, too, with the Blackhawks winning by a landslide. Your windshield had never held such secrets before. You stared through it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bang.

You turned. Nate Jacobs' fist fell on your window more times than you thought was necessary. 'Unlock the door, Y/N.'

You shook your head. Not a fucking chance in hell.

"'Y/N, don't be difficult, unlock the fucking door."

Something in you told you that that would be the worst mistake of your entire life.

"I'm sorry, I just want to talk, yeah?"

You had no idea if he deliberately made it a point to rest his bandaged palm on the window in full display to manipulate you, or if it was just a coincidence.

Just a coincidence, right?

You sighed, nodding your head in the direction of the passenger's seat as you unlocked it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He slid in, grinning as he shut the door.

"You catch the touchdown?"

"Yeah. I did."

"What'd you think? Smoothest match yet?"

"Sure."

His grin gave way to a lour as he scoffed. "Why are you so cold? Our school won."

"Why am I so cold? Why am I so cold? You asshole, you just cut yourself to make me show up!"

"Because you didn't show up when I asked nicely!"

"You're a psychopath." The effect of this word on him was oddly intriguing. He seemed to both be offended by it and seemed to get off on it.

"Can I just explain?", he sighed, sucking on his teeth for a moment as he watched other students, cheering, whistling, hooting and drinking, through your windshield.

You gestured at him to continue. He wasn't worthy enough of your words.

"You know athletes have...", he trailed off, searching desperately for the right word of vindication.

"Small dicks?"

"Okay, deserved.", he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Look, we have, like... superstitions, sometimes. For luck."

"Like the hooking up thing."

"How do you know about that?"

"McKay told me."

He scoffed, shaking his head as if his friend had divulged the biggest secret, as if he had broken some moral code.

"Alright, fine, whatever. But, uh, I pretend like it's not something I do, but I kinda have them too."

If he was about to say what you thought he was going to, you were about to press into the wound just to watch him bleed again. How dare he.

"My, um, my first game, I bumped into you on my way to the locker rooms.", he admitted, clearing his throat as if to clear space for whatever he was going to say - because it was so obviously the solution to String Theory, like he was making it out to be.

But oh, shit. He actually was going to say it.

"And we won. The next game, I did the same again, by accident. Y'know, just, this time, I fist-bumped you."

"When the fuck did you-"

"You were drunk, and you were cheering all of us on with your friends. You went for McKay's fist, but I did it instead. Uh, yeah, anyway. So, from the... maybe fourth? Yeah, the fourth game, I made it a point to at least brush my arm past you. Haven't lost a game since."

Your touch was his good luck charm? Was he clinically insane? Or was he just a massive loser?

"What's next? Our rising signs are aligned?"

"It's not a fucking joke, Y/N!", he snapped, his fist clenching.

"Really? Because it's pretty fucking hilarious."

"You know how hard it was for me to even admit I had superstitions, let alone about some random nobody girl I've never even talked to?"

No, no, he was not trying to make you feel bad, no goddamn way.

"You know how hard it was for me to see some random nobody guy bleeding out because of me?"

"It wasn't that deep." The pun was intended. It was so evidently intended that you wanted to slap the smirk off his lips.

"Yeah, okay, get out."

"Okay. You better show up to the next one, babygirl, or I'll have to take more drastic measures."

The audacious son of a bitch ruffled your hair and winked before he left.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"C'mon, Y/N, don't be a cunt. Just do it. High five me. Fist bump me. Hug me. Whatever. Just do it, I've got a game to get to. And... everyone's watching."

The very next weekend, there was another game. Last game of the season. And you were supposed to be there, of course, because Nate's 'entire life depended on it.' And what's worse? He'd dragged you there, from your internship.

That's right. He'd basically come to your place of work, interrupted a conversation with your boss, and tugged you along with him because of his borderline insane obsession with having to touch you for luck.

He could have gotten away with it, too, if his 'good luck charm' theory hadn't involved you having to make contact with him right before the game.

And now you were out there on the field. Backing away from him. Refusing.

"Y/N, please."

"Fine."

You slapped him across the face, as hard as you possibly could.

The entire football field gasped.

He'd fucked up your week with the picture of the blade carving into his skin, and now, he was fucking up your career by costing you your internship. And what's worse, he didn't even care.

"Go. Play now."

He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes to suppress his rage before he opened them again. "That's not how it works. It has to be mutual. Like a fist bump. Or bumping into each other."

"Oh, okay.", you shrugged, grabbing his wrist before using it to uppercut him. "NOW go. PLAY."

You didn't know if you were being 'whoo'd or 'boo'd by the crowd, but at this point, the only thing you could hear was the red hot fury in your boiling blood.

He bit his lip as you let go of his hand, and before he jogged out onto the field, you could have sworn he said something that, if you'd heard it right, could cut through your entire soul and ruin your self-perception for years - something absolutely, shatteringly degrading.

You hoped you'd heard wrong.

Taking your seat in the stands, you scrolled on your phone, ignoring the entire fucking game. As expected, text from your team leader.

Gone. Internship gone. LoR gone. Nate Jacobs? About to be gone.

-------

He won.

He. Fucking. Won.

And that smirk that he gave you before blowing you a kiss that immediately morphed into flipping you the bird made you want to genuinely ask him to recreate that video once again.

You hated yourself for it, but yes.

You wanted him dead.

All the trauma he'd given you the past week couldn't be left unpunished.

Oh, to knock him off his pedestal. OH, to be the one to make him scream in pain instead of arrogant mirth.

"Whoo! Nate FUCKING Jacobs, baby!", he cheered in your ear as you gritted your teeth, walking back to your car. "And, of course, you."

You threw your bags into your car, ignoring him as you get in, starting the engine. He thumped on the hood of the car. "Come on, you can't still be mad! Your boss was looking down your shirt, anyway!"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?", you scoffed.

"That's right, baby, chivalry ain't dead."

"No, but you're about to be. Get the fuck out of my way."

"Hey, I need a ride. Gimme a lift."

"No chance in hell, Jacobs."

"Stop wounding me. Let me in."

"Or what?"

"I'll break your window.", he shrugged, casually. Normal things. The sun will rise tomorrow. Seasons will change. He'll break your window.

"I wouldn't be letting you in if I didn't think you were psychotic enough to actually do that."

He chuckled, sitting as he rested his duffle bag on his lap. A couple moments later, he looked up at you. "What? What are you waiting for?"

"Tell me where to go."

"You don't know where I live?"

"Okay, let me explain this to you, slowly. I didn't know jackshit about you till, like, a week ago. I didn't know your age or what kind of car you drove, or even what classes we shared, much less where the hell you live!"

"All this shit just proves that you don't observe people around you. You only care about yourself."

"If I only cared about myself, you'd have bled out last week."

He sighed playfully, resting his feet on your dashboard because he very evidently knew you would have a neurotic breakdown. "I, for one, know your age, the kind of car you drive, all the classes you have, plus your favourite colour and food."

"The first two are moot.", you replied, ignoring his silent mockery of the word 'moot'. "Next, you know I'm in all of Maddy's classes. And the rest you can find on my account. Account stalker."

"Account stalker. God, sweetheart, you're such a child. You don't want your account stalked, don't have a public one."

"I barely even post anything!"

"Oh, yeah, what about last month?"

He was looking at your profile last month? "I'd gone to France. It was a photo dump."

"It was unnecessary."

"Okay, you know what this is?"

He raised a brow.

"This is post-game audacity, is what I call it. You won. You're Mr. Big Shot, so you think you can just-"

And that's when Nate Jacobs kissed you.

To call it the worst fucking moment of your life would be a massive understatement. "Drive."

"You did not just fucking kiss me."

"You want me to do it again?"

"NO."

"Then drive."

This motherfucking bastard of a man!

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"You wanna come in?"

No way in hell were you going into Nate Jacobs' house. Especially when there was a party going strong.

"I'm good."

He rolled his eyes, his arm leaning on the top of the window as he leaned in. "I don't bite. Initially."

"Ooh, you don't bite initially, oh, please let me come in right now! Shut up and get in, Jacobs."

"You've earned the right to call me Nate. Congrats. Begin using it."

"Why? We're never talking after this."

He scoff-snickered. "Oh. OH, so that's how it is.", he nodded, amused.

"Yeah, yeah, that's how it is."

He guffawed, banging on the hood of your car. "This ain't funny anymore. Come in."

"What? No."

"Is there really only one way to ask you to do something?"

"No, Jacobs, don't you dar-"

But he didn't listen. When did he ever? His fingers emerged from his pocket with his knife in tow. NOT AGAIN. This was the most cunning, calculating, manipulative, Machiavellian-

"I'm cutting. This time, my wrist."

"You're so fucking dumb, y'know that? You're psychopathic."

The grin on his face showed that you were wrong. He wasn't offended. He was 100% getting off on it.

Drops of blood reached the floor, and you realized you couldn't just drive off and leave this guy here - he'd probably still be cutting just to prove a point.

"I hope you die.", you mumbled, getting out of your car and slamming the door.

"I'm trying, dude!", he laughed, pointing at his wrist. Oh, this sick bastard.

"Not dressing that wound?"

"C'mon, blood is sexy. Badass."

Nate Jacobs was about to see how 'badass' blood could really get.

And when you were done beating the everloving shit out of him, you kissed him. Because he deserved to know how infuriating that shit was, too.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you.He didn't seem to care about the fact that you hit him so hard he almost had a concussion. An average social media interaction. Good.

How it should be.

But then he texted you.

Fuck.

[annwrites]

⸻ exactly what he needs. part six. ⸻

· pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: nate brings you breakfast to help w/ your hangover & then you have your first time. · tw: eating, lying, major manipulative move on nate’s part, sex · word count: 4,577 · a/n: i messed up a few posts ago when i put that the writing on the back of the pic that nate stole said ‘05. he was born in 2001. so, they, for one, wouldn’t have been in kindergarten yet, and, for two, wouldn’t have been 7-8 yrs old. i was thinking about myself, who was born in ‘98 when doing that math. please ignore lol.

When you wake, your headache has dissipated marginally. Nate’s strong, warm body is still wound around yours, and the TV against the wall is on low volume, some action movie playing.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, wishing you could remember the events of last night.

You’d had strange dreams. You’d been in the bathroom with Cassie again, and had woken with a jolt at one point at the sound of something shattering, someone trying to beat down the door, screaming your name. You’d felt trapped in there, you and Cassie staring at each other in terror. Only when the door opened did you hear the sound of glass breaking and wake.

You’d fallen back asleep again after that and had dreams of you and Nate in the pool. You’d been naked—skinny dipping—and only when you had lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him, did his features shift into something menacing—something terrifying—and he shoved your head under the water.

You were drowning.

Suffocating.

You couldn’t breathe.

You’d woken again, heart pounding, but relaxed at the feeling of his arms around you, knowing you were safe.

You told yourself the bad dreams were just a result of the alcohol. Nothing more.

You slowly sit up, Nate’s hand sliding down your side, onto your bare thigh. He sits up with you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Morning, angel.”

You press a small kiss to his nose, making him smile before you get up, padding into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind you.

Once you’ve relieved yourself, you hear a light knock on the door. “Are you okay, do you need my help?”

“No, thank you. I just need a few minutes.”

He hesitates for a moment before finally stepping away.

Once you’ve showered, brushed your teeth—thoroughly—and ripped through the tangles in your hair, do you emerge from his bathroom with a towel wrapped around you.

You find him lying back on the bed, eyes now on you, watching as you select a plain gray t-shirt from his closet, sliding it onto your torso.

You then walk over to the bed, climbing into his lap, resting your head against his shoulder while he holds you.

“How do you feel?” He asks, lips against your hair.

You shrug. “A little better.”

He slips one of his hands under the shirt, rubbing up and down against your bare back. “Are you hungry?”

You groan. “I don’t know if eating is a good idea.”

He chuckles. “It’ll help soak up whatever alcohol is left in your system. And your stomach is on empty right now.”

He gently moves you off of him, deciding for you.

“Just stay up here and relax.” He hands you the TV remote. “You can watch whatever you like. I’ll go make you something to eat.”

He pulls on a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt before stepping over to the door. He turns back to you after opening it. “Any special requests?”

You shake your head. “Whatever you want to make is fine. Thank you,” you say with a sweet smile.

He nods, heading downstairs.

You lie back on his bed, opening Netflix to find something more preferable to your tastes to watch.

When Nate enters the kitchen, his mom is just heading in from outside, hair tied back as she removes her gardening hat, tossing it onto the kitchen island.

“Someone is a late riser today.”

He walks over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of Powerade. “Y/N is.” He seats himself at the island, unscrewing the lid. “Hungover.”

Her eyes widen. “Getting her drunk already, sweetie? Or is that just the way she is?”

She hopes not. She’d thought her a good girl.

He rolls his eyes, taking a drink. “I fucked up. Took her to a party last night that someone like her had no business being at in the first place.”

She feels relieved to hear it.

She pulls the Britta out of the fridge, retrieving a glass and pouring. “Trying to corrupt her already, huh?”

He slams his bottle down. “Jesus fucking Christ, why am I always the villain?”

She puts the Britta away, raising her hands. “Jeez, sorry, don’t bite my head off. Just trying to joke with you.”

She takes a sip of her water. “Has she eaten yet?”

He shakes his head.

“Would you like for me to make her some lunch?”

He leans forward, forearms resting on the countertop. “I’d appreciate it.”

She turns around, retrieving a pan. “How does grilled cheese and tomato soup sound? Would she like that, or should I make something else?”

“That’s fine.”

Once Marsha has retrieved the required cookware and ingredients, she turns her back to him, facing the stove. “So, I know I’m about to be a mom, but bear with me.” She’s quiet for a moment and Nate braces himself for whatever nonsense might be about to come out of her mouth. “I know it’s still a little early, but: do you have feelings for her?”

He takes another drink. “Yes.”

She nods. “And does she have feelings for you?”

He thinks about how you’d had your naked body pressed to his all night for comfort and security. About the way you look at and touch him. “Yes.”

She smiles to herself.

“I don’t want you to think that I was eavesdropping, because I wasn’t,” his back immediately stiffens. “But I heard the two of you in the kitchen yesterday morning. The things she said to you.”

She stirs the tomato soup, glancing to him over her shoulder. “I really, really like this one, Nate. She’s good for you. I know I once said that I liked Cassie, too. But that was before I heard her ranting and raving in your room one night screaming about how crazy she is. Y/N seems…different. Mature, sweet, good-hearted, even…” She trails off for a moment. “Unless she turns out to be insane, too. I mean, clearly I know how to pick ‘em.”

She briefly wonders if he inherited his poor taste in romantic partners from her. Not that Cal is all bad. But sometimes…sometimes when she looks at him all she sees is a stranger.

Not the man she had once adored with her entire heart. Not the man who she sometimes spent entire weekends in her bed with as a teenager. Not the man she had married.

Not the man who she had made two children with.

“She’s nothing like Cassie. Honestly, she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” He looks at the back of her head. “You do realize I’ve known her since kindergarten, right?”

Her brows furrow. “Really?”

“Mhm. We were just never really friends before now.”

She slides the sandwich onto a plate, then dumps the soup into a bowl.

“What changed?” She asks, retrieving a spoon and a napkin, setting it all onto a small portable tray, sliding it in front of him.

“I finally realized what I needed, instead of what I thought I wanted.”

When Nate returns to his room, you’re lying on the bed, pillow bunched up underneath your head, arms wrapped around it. Your left leg is bent far enough up that your pussy is on full display for him; your right leg stretched out straight as you watch the TV with interest. Some fantasy movie, of course, playing.

He kicks the door shut behind him and you sit up then, taking the tray from him once he’s at the side of the bed, with an appreciative smile.

He pushes some hair from your face with his hand, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. “Just try not to get anything on the bed.”

You nod. “I won’t.”

He never eats in bed himself, the thought of rolling around in crumbs makes his skin crawl.

Before you take a bite of your sandwich, you look up to him. “Did…did you make this?”

He nods. “I’ve never cooked for anyone else before today.”

You feel warmth bloom in your chest at that. You smile shyly. “Between this and letting me drive your truck I’m starting to feel like a special exception.”

That’s the reason I did it, he thinks. He looks at you with a smile. “You are, baby.”

As you eat, Nate picks up his room, throwing your laundry and his both into his hamper, straightening up here and there, even if his room stays organized enough that it’s not really needed. But he hates any sort of disorderliness.

It was one of the first things he came to appreciate about you when it came to seeing your house: everything was clean and tidy and in its place.

He hates slovenly people.

Finally, he sits in his computer chair, leaning back, watching as you eat.

You take small bites, sipping at your soup, occasionally taking a drink of water.

“How is it?” He asks.

You nod, swallow, then reply. “Really good. It’s one of my favorites, actually. Thank you.”

He smiles. “You’re welcome. I just feel like shit for letting you get so loaded.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. Don’t worry: I never plan to drink ever again,” you say with a small laugh.

He smirks. “That’s what we all say until the opportunity inevitably presents itself again.”

You take another sip of your soup, licking your lips. “Not me.”

Once you’ve finished eating, you stand, picking up the tray from his bed and heading to the door.

He stands as well. “I can get that.”

You smile. “It’s okay.” You shift from one foot to the other. “I was actually thinking… Since you’ve gone through my room, and I haven’t really looked around yours very much,” not that there seems to be much to it in terms of personalization to begin with, you think. “Maybe I can browse a bit when I come back up?”

Just the fucking opportunity I need, he thinks with excitement. “Yeah, sure.”

You head downstairs and he panickedly looks around his room. “Fuck, fuck where is it? Where the fuck did I put it?”

He throws himself on the floor, looking under his bed, which is spotless.

He stands, ready to pull his goddamn hair out from frustration, until his head jerks toward his hamper, which hasn’t been emptied in awhile. How the fuck could he have forgotten to take it out?

He digs through the dirty laundry, until he’s nearly reached the bottom and he wrenches out a pair of jeans, digging through all the pockets, until he finally finds it in the last one he looks in.

He quickly walks over to his desk, grabbing a roll of scotch tape and sticking the object to his bedroom mirror.

He then sits down, heart hammering, and he waits.

When you come back upstairs, you’re grateful no one had seen you wandering down to the kitchen in just one of Nate’s t-shirts…again.

You shut the door behind you and wander over to his bench press first, looking at the weights. You look back to him then, where he’s now sitting on the edge of his bed, watching you intently. “How many pounds do you normally lift?”

He nods toward the barbell. “That one is two-hundred and twenty pounds.”

You flush, liking that response. So strong, you think.

You sit down on it and position your legs under the leg lift and try to push…and fail miserably.

He looks at you with an amused smirk. “Having trouble?”

You push again and then promptly give up. If anything, it just makes heat pool between your legs when you think of how easy it had been for him to do it.

You stand then. “I was just warming up.”

He chuckles.

You walk over to his desktop setup. “Do you ever play games?”

Not that kind, he thinks. “Not really. I mostly use it for schoolwork.”

You nod, refraining from going through the cabinets to the side.

You then look at his fancy stereo system, then the basket beside it, which houses a couple footballs and a basketball.

You glance at the storage at the foot of his bed, which is full of Nikes, then come to stand in front of his dresser and look at him over your shoulder with a raised brow before opening the top drawer.

He smirks, watching you imitate how he looked through your top drawer yesterday.

And you find nothing of interest, just some boxers, briefs, socks, and some wife-beaters. You shut the drawer then.

You look at the picture of the F-16, which hangs behind his bed. “Is being a pilot something you sometimes think about?”

“My mom is the one who decorated in here.”

Explains the monogrammed pillows, you think.

Besides the photo and a jersey which hangs on the wall, you finally realize just how minimalist and non-personal his room really is. You wonder why there’s no knick-knacks or décor of any kind. Then again, he seems to be a bit of a neat-freak, and sometimes despising clutter comes with the territory.

You look at the mirror against the wall and your brows furrow.

You step over to it, pulling at the Polaroid stuck to it, taking a closer look.

And your heart stops.

The one personal thing he does have—the only thing—is a photo of the two of you from when you were little.

Tears sting your eyes. “Where…where did you get this?” You ask in a whisper.

“Found it a few months ago in a box of old stuff I had. Decided to hang it up. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I did. Just…I just like looking at it for some reason.”

You look at him.

“Maddy fucking hated it. Cassie acted jealous, even if we were only a few years old in it and we weren’t even talking at the time when she and I were…doing whatever the fuck we were doing.”

You look back down to the picture, turning it over, looking at the writing on the back, then looking at the picture again.

“Do…do you remember that day?”

He stays silent, hoping to fucking God if he does, you’ll continue, and give him some clue as to when it was taken exactly. So he can try and fill in blanks to pretend like it’s a day he could never forget.

You look at him.

“You do, too?” He asks.

You nod, looking at it. “It was the last day of kindergarten. And my birthday. My…” You swallow, throat tightening. “The bear on my bed was your gift to me.”

Nate’s jaw drops, just slightly. He didn’t remember any of it. And he’s sure the gift was most-likely selected by his mom, but it was the fact you’d kept it—something that had come from him so long ago—it meant…he’s not sure what it means. Just that whatever it is: it means a lot of it.

“I wasn’t sure if it looked familiar or not.”

You let out a teary laugh.

“The cake was good, though.” He adds, hoping there was a fucking cake.

“Ice cream. We got so messy.”

“Vanilla, right?”

Your heart melts that he remembers. “Yes.”

“Do you remember that we fed some to each other? Well, kind of shoved it in each other’s faces. After your mom cleaned us up, my dad took this picture.”

He comes to stand beside you. “Maybe it sounds stupid, but it was one of the best days of my life.”

You press the picture back against the mirror, then look up to him. “I-”

You stop, shutting your mouth. And then you do it. Say it. Because you mean it. “I love you.”

His heart swells with pride. He’d done it—it’d fucking worked. And you’d believed every lie, every word, that left his mouth so easily.

He leans down, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“I know it may seem soon. Really soon. And-”

“I love you, too,” he replies softly, the look in his eyes only further confirming that he truly means it.

He presses his lips to yours then and kisses you so achingly soft. He doesn’t use tongue, doesn’t deepen it, just…kisses you, pouring his heart into it.

When he pulls away, the way he looks at you…no one has ever looked at you like that before. Not even him. Not before this moment.

“I feel like we were meant to find our ways back to each other,” he whispers, brushing the pad of his thumb against your lower lip and you see his eyes grow glassy and you know he’s fighting back tears.

And one slips from your own, which he wipes away.

“Nate, do you-” You pause for a moment, heart pounding. And then you continue. “Do you have any condoms?”

He studies you for a moment—his mind practically fucking exploding from excitement that this had played out exactly as he’d hoped.

God, you really are a sentimental creature.

He nods. “Baby, are you sure about this?” He hates questioning it, but hopes that doing so will only draw you in closer. That instead of him running across the room to grab one, he’s instead more concerned for you, ensuring that this is what you truly want.

You reach up, running your fingers through his soft brown hair. “Yes.”

He considers you for a moment—rather, pretends to—before pressing a soft, loving kiss to your forehead and stepping away, taking your hand in his as he leads you over to the bed.

He reaches down, slipping his t-shirt from you, before looking over your naked body. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Do you even understand how beautiful you are?”

He cups one of your cheeks again, his other hand holding your hip, rubbing his thumb against it.

You only look at him.

He pulls his shirt off, then lowers his body onto yours, the both of you settling comfortably against the bed. He helps you scoot back, until your head is resting against his pillows. He first kisses your forehead, maybe half-a-dozen times, then each of your cheeks, your nose, your chin, before giving you his lips. You open your mouth, your tongue searching for his. And you find it, his dancing against yours gently, tenderly.

And then he moves to your neck, giving extra attention to that one sensitive spot that he likes to favor. You sigh, arching your back, and his hands slide under you. And he holds you against him for a moment, your bare chest pressed against his.

“I love you so fucking much,” he mutters into your shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

He can hear that you’re now crying. So he pulls back just the least bit, kissing away your tears.

He smooths some hair from your face, your chin wobbling. “You’re so perfect… You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Y/N.”

You let out a small, happy sob, smiling.

He then begins to kiss your breasts, taking one in his hand, and then the other, lightly trailing his tongue along the valley between them and your body shudders.

He then kisses down the soft skin of your stomach. Until, finally, he’s reached your perfect pussy which he’ll claim in only a few minutes as his very own.

He begins kissing your inner thighs, seeing that you’re already completely soaked and you sit up a bit.

“Nate, I…I wanted to-” You weren't wanting oral today. You wanted more. Wanted him.

He looks up at you. “Trust me, sweetheart,” he says softly, quietly. “If I take my time…it won’t hurt as much. Please let me take care of you, please.”

You nod, your lower lip wobbling from how much love and care and tenderness he’s treating you with.

You lay back again.

He then places his mouth against you and you gasp. He reaches up, twining his fingers between yours, holding tight.

“I love you, Nate,” you whisper.

He responds by pressing a kiss to your pussy before going back in with his tongue, running it along that seal that he’s about to break.

Once you’re warm and flushed and trembling—crying—does he stand, removing his shorts, and you take in the impressive length of him, licking your lips.

He pads over to the door, locking it—knowing he’ll kill anyone who tries to interrupt you. He’d once considered doing this at your house, to ensure there would be no interruptions, but he needed for it to happen in his bed. Needed to claim your virginity here, in his room.

He then opens the top drawer of his nightstand and retrieves a condom. You sit up a bit, watching as he peels open the wrapper, then feel your core tighten as he rolls it onto his throbbing erection.

You feel nervous, and a bit scared, but also eager to have him inside of you.

To have him teach you what this is like.

After you’d spent so long wondering about it, too.

He then lies his body back down on top of yours, hand lacing between the long, soft strands of your hair. “Are you ready, angel?”

You nod, kissing him.

He reaches down, rubbing himself against your entrance and notices when you tense up. So he stops.

“The only thing I need you to do is relax for me. Let me do everything else. This is about you, not me. I want—I need—your first time to be perfect. Let me give that to you. Please.”

A tear slips from your eye at his sweet, loving words.

You spread your legs wider, tension releasing.

He rubs himself against you again and then finally, finally, eases into you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he presses his lips to your own, your hands tightening into fists as you feel a painful pinch, something breaking perhaps, and then he slips inside of you.

You whimper against his lips, trying to ignore the pain. You move your hips, until he pulls his mouth away from your own. “Stay still for me, baby. Just let yourself adjust to me.”

He gently lifts one of your legs onto his back and he sinks deeper, moaning at how wet and tight you are. So this is what a virgin feels like, he thinks. And it feels so fucking…perfect.

He looks at you, doing his utmost not to finish right then and there. He needs this to last for as long as possible. “Does that feel better?”

You nod.

He eases out a couple inches, then back in and you moan in pleasure. “Does that feel good?”

You nod again. “Y-yes.”

He kisses you, deeply. Then presses his forehead against your own. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” He presses his lips back to your own before he begins to ease in and out, in and out, over and over.

He goes painstakingly slow, even as his body protests, wanting nothing more than to fuck your brains out. But he needs to be gentle with you. Needs you to think that’s who he is. Needs for every second of your lovemaking to be what you’ve always surely imagined—hoped—it would one day be like.

He looks down at you, staring into your eyes as he continues easing his cock in and out—you’re so wet now that he can hear it. And he loves you all the more for it. How easily your body responds to him.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart. I want this to be perfect.”

You shake your head. “It is.”

He kisses you again, then slowly—slowly—lifts you until you’re in his lap. He wraps one arm around your waist, encouraging you to move your hips against him. The other comes up to cup your cheek, tangling in your hair as he kisses your lips, your neck, your right breast, then left. He looks at you again and you whimper. “Shh, that’s it, angel. Just like that. Take your time.”

You reach down to touch your clit and he gently takes your hand in his. “Don’t. Please. I want this moment to last for as long as possible.”

You fight back tears again as you lie your head on his shoulder as he continues helping you move your hips against him.

In reality, he wants you to come from his cock alone—to find him to be that good of a lover. He knows it’s not easy to achieve—female orgasms from penetration alone—but he’s more than willing to try.

Finally, he lies you back down on the mattress. “Fuck,” he mutters into a pillow as he slips out for a moment, then eases back in. You shudder from how good it feels, him filling you.

And he enjoys your walls clenching around him.

He places both of your legs over his backside, making you as small as possible beneath him. Dwarfing your small, feminine frame. He loves how much larger he is than you. The fact that he could easily throw you around like a ragdoll.

And you stay like that. For awhile. Silence, just the sounds of your ragged breathing, his occasional moans, your whimpering and sighing. Each of you saying each other’s names or that you love each other. His skin slapping against yours.

Finally, he repositions his hips—his cock touching against some part of you that you’ve never touched before and you jerk. “Ah, right there.”

He knows he’s found what he’s been looking for. So he keeps his hips positioned exactly where they are as he continues to fuck himself inside of you.

Your breathing quickens, your kissing becomes more fervent, your fingers tangling in his hair. And your walls begin to rapidly clench.

He fights back against how fucking good you feel, refusing to be the first one to finish. No. He needs to give that to you. He can’t come off as being selfish in bed.

That will come later.

Until, finally, finally, you cry out, pressing your mouth against his shoulder, your body shuddering, jerking against his fingers trailing along your hot, bare skin. Your walls squeezing and squeezing him.

You begin to cry and then he falls over the edge, following right behind you.

He buries his face In your neck. “God, baby. Fuck, Y/N.”

He moans as his cum fills the condom wrapped tightly around him.

Finally, he stills, his body collapsing on top of yours, cock still twitching inside of you.

You cry silently underneath him and he presses countless kisses to your hot cheeks, your swollen lips. “I love you more than anything,” he says.

And he believes it.

And so do you.

[bumblesimagines]

what's a kiss between friends?

you don't treat anyone else like this. just me.

- Maddy Perez

you don't treat anyone else like this. just me.

what's a kiss between friends?

Pronouns: they/them/theirs, gender neutral!reader

You watched Maddy fiddle with the speakers from the comfort of your bed, one cheap beer can in hand while the other kept your head propped up. She grinned when the music finally began flowing from them and tapped on her phone screen a few times until a Kali Uchis song began playing. Maddy spun on her heel to face you, her hair flying from one shoulder to the next with her movements, and she began to sing along to the song. 

"I just wanna get high with my lover Veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo Kiss, kiss"

You chuckled and pushed yourself up to lean back against the headboard, eyes trailing after her as she danced along to the song, swaying her hips and using her half-empty beer can as a microphone. You nodded along to the beat, unable to resist the smile spreading on your lips while Maddy continued her performance. She moved onto the end of the end after setting her can aside, kneeling at the edge, and continuing to sing along with a wide smile.

"But I know a place we can escape Find out how it feels to let go of everything, be free When you're here with me"

Better to see Maddy loose and carefree than agitated over Nate or her parents. She seemed fully in her element, laughter occasionally escaping her and the smile never leaving her face. She leaned down, crawling toward you with a mischievous grin and stealing the can right from your hand once close enough. She flopped onto her back and drank the last remaining drops of beer before setting it on the nightstand and tilting her head toward you, resuming her singing and dramatically resting her hand over her chest. You stayed silent, keeping your teasing at bay for the night. She needed a good time after what Cassie had done to her.

"There's nothing like peace of mind And you take the time to make sure that I'm okay I know I can put stress on your brain"

Maddy trailed off toward the end of the lyrics, her lips pressing together and pursing lightly as she stared up at you. You quirked a questioning brow at her and reached out to brush raven-colored strands out of her face. She swatted lightly at your hand and mimicked your position, curling her arm around her pillow and tilting her head. 

"What is it, Maddy?" You prodded, shifting to lay more on your side and look at her better. She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back and fully out of her face, her eyes still lingering on yours. 

"You ever thought about, like..." She trailed off, the tip of her acrylic nail scratching lightly against her jaw. "Kissing?" 

"I had my first kiss years ago, Mads, and you did too."

"That's not what I mean, asshole," She huffed lightly, lightly pushing your temple with two fingers and rolling her eyes dramatically. Her hands moved to the ends of her hair, combing through it thoughtfully. "I mean, like... us." 

Us. It almost sounded like it had a double meaning, as if it meant something more than friendship. You'd known Maddy quite literally your whole life, practically since the womb. Your mother had fallen pregnant around the same time as Mrs. Perez, and as a result, they'd often exchange tips or simply talk about how life had changed for them. It'd almost been fated, really, to become best friends with the girl across the street. You'd seen it all: her rise in popularity, the cheerleading practices, her circle of friends growing, the turbulent relationship with Nate Jacobs. the anger, the sadness. The very definition of ride or die.

"What's a kiss between friends?" She lifted her brows at you, but you knew her too well to miss the hint of nerves. The way her fingers combed through her hair, the slightly pursed lips, the way her eyes slipped away every so often. It would've been a shock to the girls if they learned nothing had ever happened between you and Maddy. They joked about it often, and you were fairly certain they believed Maddy turned to you whenever something went wrong with Nate. She did, of course she did, but not in the way they thought of. 

"Friends." You repeated airily, your finger drawing shapes on the sheets. "You know, you don't treat anyone else like this. Just me. Everyone else thinks you're always acting like this cool girl when you're just a dork."

"A dork?" Maddy scoffed softly, the ends of her lips curling upward. "The fuck you mean, a dork?"

With a soft snort, you leaned forward, planting your lips against her in a swift peck. Her typically colored lips were clean and soft, with only the taste of cherry chapstick. Maddy made a soft noise of surprise, her body growing motionless, but by the time the surprise had faded, you'd already pulled away, slumping back into the pillows and listening to a new song fill the room.

[starboye]

toxic!nate jacobs masterlist

his good side

the worst of worst

needy boy

wake up surprise

supressed feelings

boyfriend or no strings

finally snapping

comparisons

oversharing

aftercare? no. feat. mateo

tell them

how did these two meet feat. mateo

caught in the act

possessive and jealous nate

how you two met

how far is to far

"i deserve better" feat. mateo

how would nate react to you leaving

do you even feel regret

dehumanize and degrade feat. mateo

threats feat. mateo

hit me hard

did you know

sleeping beauty

running a train

sex god

beach sex

dont be shy

group cock whore

pervert

call

gold tooth

bragging

you're his

©property of starboye

[s9fti3]

A big thing Nate loved about your guy’s relationship is that fact he would always be bigger than you. He would always be your protector in the relationship. He’d come to your side when you needed him. He also enjoyed that fact he could just lift you and throw you as if your were a rag doll no matter your weight. Watch your eyes roll back as he coaches you through every inch. He loved it even more that his shirts were always to big for you as well.

[eufezco]

𝙀𝙐𝙋𝙃𝙊𝙍𝙄𝘼 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 ࿐ྂ

𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙇𝙐𝘿𝙀𝙎 : fezco, nate jacobs, jules vaughn

♡️ fluff ☆ angst ☽ smut

english isn't my first language !!!

my other masterlists ✨

FEZCO

YOU TELL HIM YOU'RE PREGNANT PT.2 | ♡️ ☆

I SENT HER BACK TO HER BOYFRIEND WITH MY HANDPRINT ON HER ASS CHEEK | ☽

NEW DRESS | ☽ x plus size!reader

you're feeling insecure about how your body looks in your new dress so he shows you how much he likes it before you leave.

HE EATS YOU OUT | ☽

SHOPPING DAY | ☽

you go shopping with him and stop at a lingerie store. you try some sets and he ends up into the dressing room with you.

YOU ASK HIM TO CHOKE YOU | ☽

NIGHT INTERRUPTED | ☽

your lovely night with him gets interrupted when rue knocks on his door looking for drugs.

EXPLORING KINKS | ☽

NOT YET | ♡️ ☽

he won't touch you, not yet, not until you've finished high school.

DRUNK IN LOVE | ♡️

you're at a party with your friends and you've drank too much. fezco takes you home and takes care of you.

VIRGINITY LOSS | ☽

OUT OF THE WOODS | ♡️ ☆ x jacobs!reader

after a fight with your dad, cal jacobs, and your brother, nate, you text fez to come and save you from your disastrous household.

FRIENDS TO LOVERS | ♡️ ☆

NATE JACOBS

NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT | ☽

nate finds your dildo and he's not happy about it. why do you need something like that when you have him?

JULES VAUGHN

FUCKING INVENCIBLE | ♡️ ☆

at a party at nate's place, you meet the new girl in town when she has to face him.

[bonesandchalamet]

the mountains of Colorado- j.elordi

masterlist

pairing: jacob elordi x reader

warnings: fluff + short lil ramble!

a/n: it’s not very long just a sweet ramble ☺️

an escape from the media, reality, and the cameras was what he needed. he loves the attention and the fortune that comes with his job, he’s able to take you to such secluded places like where you are now. somewhere in the middle of the mountains in Colorado.

neither of you have any clue of time, phones having died a long time ago, but seeing the sun slowly fade beyond the horizon you figure it’s beginning to get late.

he’s watching the chicken that’s roasting over a fire, while you’re in the trees with a hammock journaling about the nature and peace of the mountains. there’s not a soul for days, just the two of you and animal life.

“it’s ready.” he calls, nearly burning himself from opening the hot tin foil with chicken that’s for char marks from the hot coal. you climbed out of your hammock, making your way over to the camp chairs where he’s seated.

you slip beside him, watching him plate the can of beans, chicken, and potatoes. he’s a good chef, despite his many attempts at burning your kitchen down he knows how to make a good meal in the middle of chaos.

you watch the birds above you two, singing and playing with others, the only sound being them and the crackle of the fire brings peace to his own heart. nature was the best get away, and being able to share this with you was an experience.

never did he ever think he’d wake in the morning being in the middle of a tent; sweet soft kisses being pressed to his face, birds chirping and owls hooting. but he needed this in preparation for the upcoming films and shows, before the chaos erupts once again.

you’d happily travel to any end of the world with him, even if it was in the middle of the mountains of Colorado.

[jjsmaybank20]

Heyy could I please request a Maddy Perez x fem!reader and they are both dating, but the reader is really shy but like also the sweetest person ever and would never hurt a fly, but she also hates like drama or other people fighting/yelling, so the reader gets a but uncomfortable at the intervention when everyone is yelling and fighting. So like the reader and Maddy are both comforting each other, it would be like hurt/comfort with fluff at the end. If you don’t want to do it then no pressure at all 😭😭 (btw I’m 18+)

Intervention

Maddy Perez x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were the calm to Maddy's storm, the only person who could talk her down after finding out about Cassie and Nate.

Warnings: Lots of language, intervention shit, mentions of Nate (🤮)

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Look at me go, y'all! I cranked this out, and it's not half bad. Took me over a month, though. Sorry about that.

navigation euphoria masterlist

---

You and Maddy were complete opposites, which is why you worked so well together as a couple. She was bold and outgoing, while you were more reserved and shy. To give you some credit, you could most definitely fight for yourself if needed, but Maddy tended to fight for you first. The two of you had only been together for a few weeks, but you knew that you would last a long time.

You hated confrontation, and you avoided it as much as possible, but you would do anything to help your friends. This was how you ended up in the Howard household, preparing to stage an intervention for Rue Bennett. 

You nervously watch as the girl of the hour comes around the bend, before groaning when she catches sight of the group standing at the bottom of the stairs. She sits down, practically collapsing, and bangs her head on the wall behind her while muttering, “Oh, fuck.”

Maddy slips her hand into yours, knowing that this could get messy really fast. As if it wasn’t already. You squeeze her hand gratefully, using the physical contact as a grounding method. You watch as Rue’s mom begins to talk to her daughter.

“This can’t make you feel good, Rue. Living like this, lying to the people you love, being mean to the people you love,” At this, you glance over at Lexi, trying to shoot her comforting look. “This can’t make you feel good about yourself.”

Rue sighs, dragging her hands down her face. “I don’t care, just fucking leave me alone please.” She sounds on the verge of tears, and her mother takes a step towards the staircase. “I know you’re in pain.” 

Rue begins to get angry, quietly exclaiming, “You have no fucking idea, mom.” Her mom continues to talk to her calmly, trying to convince her to go to the hospital. Cassie walks forward slightly, in front of the area where you were standing with Maddy, Kat, and Lexi. 

“I can’t get clean, I can’t do that shit forever.” You can hear the pain in Rue’s voice, and it makes your heart ache for your friend. Cassie takes another step forward, and you realize that she’s about to throw a wrench in this whole operation.

She swings her arms before over encouragingly saying, “You don’t have to. Just, take it one day at a time.” You wince slightly, knowing that she basically opened herself up for anything Rue wants to attack her with.

When Cassie glances around, you see Maddy gesture to her that it was a little too much, letting you know that the two of you were on the same page. 

“Hey, Cass?” You wince when you hear Rue’s voice again, knowing that whatever comes next isn’t going to be pretty. Cassie responds innocently, and Rue follows up with, “I have a quick question for you.” 

Cassie seems confused, responding, “What?” Rue sighs before answering, “How long have you been fucking Nate Jacobs?” You inhale sharply, not expecting that to come from the brunette girl. You feel Maddy tense up beside you, which sets you even more on edge.

Cassie is silent for a moment, before she starts nervously laughing. “Wh-What are you talking about?” Rue doesn’t hesitate before asking her question again, and this is when you know that all hell is about to break loose.

Cassie begins to stutter out denials, but Maddy ignores her in favor of questioning Rue. “What are you talking about?” Rue begins to play the innocent victim, turning all attention away from the actual intervention. 

“Oh, I just- I saw her get in his truck and then kiss him and drive off, that was like, what, like uh… like a month ago?” You let out a slow exhale, realizing that was before you and Maddy had gotten together. So… Nate had cheated on Maddy with Cassie, Maddy’s best friend. Holy shit. 

Maddy gives Cassie a dangerous look before dropping your hand and exclaiming, “Are you kidding me?” Cassie can’t even defend herself anymore as she just lets out whimpers and tries to hold back her tears. From behind you, Kat states, “Cass, that’s like, really bad.” 

“You’re fucking Nate. Are you kidding me?!” You want to try to calm Maddy down, but she has a right to be angry. You know that she’s over Nate, but her best friend slept with her ex-boyfriend while they were still together. She trusted Cassie, and she fucked her over.

Cassie continues to try to stutter out denials, but Maddy exclaims, “You’re lying!” Ms. Howard tries to break up the argument by focusing back on the actual reason why everyone was here, but Maddy refuses. You take a step back as she explodes.

“No. No! You expect me to stand here next to my best friend who's been lying to me about fucking my ex-boyfriend? I’m literally going to get violent!” Ms. Howard tries to stop her again, but when Maddy sees that Cassie is crying, she storms forward. 

Kat tries to grab her, but when she misses, she whisper-yells, “Y/N! Fucking do something! You’re the only person she’ll listen to.” You nod and sigh, getting ready to step into the fray where you were the most uncomfortable.

 “You’re the one who’s hurt? You’re the most self-centered, idiotic person I have ever fucking met. You fuck my ex? And you’re fucking crying? Are you fucking kidding me?” You step up to her and place your hand on her arm. She goes to shrug you off, but when she realizes it’s you, she leans into your body. 

You hold her, moving away from Cassie as Ms. Bennett yells at the rest of you. As she yells, you whisper to Maddy, “I’ve got you, baby. She’s not fucking worth it. Please, we came here for Rue. You can finish this later. Please.” She nods into your chest and you kiss her head. As you lead her to the door, you shoot everyone apologetic looks. 

When you catch Cassie's gaze, you give her the most murderous look you can muster. Right before you walk out the door, you mouth, “You’re fucking dead.”

---

You drive Maddy to your house before guiding her up the stairs and into your room. She seems less mad and more shellshocked now, but you know at any moment she would break and the tears would come running. 

You quickly grab some ice cream from your mini fridge and grab one of your hoodies for Maddy. As soon as you sit down next to her on your bed, she falls into you and begins sobbing. You let her cry as you lay the two of you back and stroke her hair. 

She cries for a long time before she quietly asks, “How could she do this? She was my best friend.” You take note of the was, and instead of answering, you just pull the latina woman closer. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a little while before she speaks up again.

“Thank you for talking me out of fighting her there. Not saying I won’t fight her somewhere else, but that wasn’t the time, or the place.” You let out a soft snort at her confession, quietly answering, “Of course. I needed to get out of there, anyway. Was starting to feel claustrophobic.” 

Maddy snuggles even deeper into your bed, tired out from everything that went down. As she drifts off to sleep, you hear her mumble, “I love you, Y/N.” You smile gently down at the girl snuggled into you, turning off your light.

You press a kiss to her head and quietly answer, “I love you, too.”

---

@lovelyy-moonlight @pnsteblnme

Join my taglist!

[simkaswriting]

♡dating jacob elordi♡

[teaaagan]

Bed

Jules: When you said you’re magic in bed this isn’t exactly what I was expect- 

Y/N holding up a card: Is this your card?

Jules softly: Holy shit

[etherealily]

𝕊𝕀ℕ // ​🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​

No one seemed to like the cliffhanger, so here's a draft that i converted into a makeshift part 6.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. NSFW. Drugs. Contains brief explicit content.

Part 1 : Whiplash Part 2 : 9 Lives Part 3 : Blessed Part 4 : Shards Part 5 : Eighteen

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

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

Nate had never been more pissed in his life. Ever. You'd blatantly disobeyed him. Well, not technically. No technically, you hadn't been told anything, but he'd have figured you weren't so dense as to go and visit Shane motherfucking Crestin in the motherfucking ER !

Honestly. It's like you had one braincell and all it told you was to piss him off.

And fuck him. He definitely saw that in your eyes the last time.

Or was that the molly?

Probably the molly.

But whatever. The fact was, you wanted to fuck him, and he wanted to fuck you, and he had no idea why you wanted him out of your life if that was the case. Wasn't that fate? Two people want something so bad, they should end up doing it, no? Not going and visiting the reason they couldn't do it in the ER.

Yeah, he decided.

Yes. They. Should.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

He'd figured you would avoid him like the plague, anyway. So he didn't care if it reached you or not that he was helping McKay host a party. So imagine his surprise when, after about two months of no contact, you showed up at his party.

"Whoa."

You frowned. "Excuse me?'

"What happened to 'get the fuck out of my life, Nate?' What, were you just full of it?"

"Dude. If me being here bothers you that much, I'll just fucking leav-"

"Jeez, don't be a baby, short stuff.", he cooed, patting your head before slinging an arm around you. "C'mon, let's do shots."

"Hey, whoa, whoa, none of this friendliness."

He rolled his eyes, removing his hand from you. "Fine. C'mon. I missed you."

And the problem was, he did. He actually fucking missed you. Which was the weirdest thing to happen to him since... well, birth. It wasn't anything in particular, it wasn't even the fact that you were easy on the eyes.

He, like a fucking simp, just liked you being around him.

With as much trepidation as a sycophant scorned by his master, he gently, reverently, offered you a shot. "For old times' sake?"

You rolled your eyes, taking it from him. "For old times' sake? Like, the time you got me drunk at school?'

He smiled, his hand slowly back around your shoulder as he tugged you closer, kissing your temple. "We could always go back, y'know?", he murmured next to your ear. "Get high on the bleachers again."

"No."

"C'mon, we haven't hung out in two months. Ditch these fakes. I'm the fun one, anyway."

Jesus.

He took a long drag of his vape, the smoke bombarding your face. He proferred it to you and frowned when you declined. "Why not?"

"I don't vape."

"Are you one of those bitches that says 'smoke a real cigarette'?"

"No, I don't smoke at all."

He rolled his eyes. "We're going to the bleachers."

It was weird, to say the least, the air between you two back at the bleachers. You sat, looking up at the sky, the grass, anywhere but his eyes, and he sat with his head on your lap.

Silence covered the two of you until he sighed. "Can we just pick up where we left off?"

"And where was that?"

"With me almost eating you out."

You scoffed. You wouldn't have done that if you thought he was being serious. You wouldn't have done that if you were entirely sober. But you didn't and you weren't, so you scoffed. "Right. Yeah. Sure."

"I'm not joking. You're making this harder than it needs to be. There isn't any ulterior motive, this is just... boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy-"

"Debatable.", you muttered, but he ignored it.

"-Boy wants to fuck girl, girl wants to fuck boy, boy fucks girl. Why are you adding shit? Do you want drama? Is that what this is? Because we could do drama. I could do drama like you've never fucking seen before!"

In Nate speak, that meant he had a big dick and he wanted you to know.

"Look. It's just too complicated. You've- there's too much-"

"Forget it all. 'Kay? Just you and me.", he replied immediately, sitting up.

"Because you quote-unquote 'love' me."

"Exactly that." His lips found yours, and surprisingly, this time, you actually had a spine and pulled away.

"What the FUCK?"

Huffing, he rolled his eyes and stroked your cheek as he shifted and knelt down. "Can we skip the part where you scream 'what the fuck, what the fuck' and push me away and get to the part where you admit you want me? I've had a long day."

Seeing him down there did nothing to make you feel safer.

"Nate-"

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, please, just, for the love of god-", he muttered, as if you were being an inconvenience at the moment and not him, the asshat on his knees. "Would you just relax?"

"Look, Y/N. I love you.", he said, and his hands slowly slid up to the hem of your shirt, his thumb rubbing the skin right under it. "Let me show you."

"You don't love me. Stop saying that."

"Fine, then. I want you. And stop telling me you don't want me, like it's a mortal sin or something.", he warned, gripping the backs of your thighs.

Sadly, you couldn't entirely blame this on the molly this time.

It definitely contributed to the decision, but mostly to the fact that it made every single touch of his explode with a robust... flavour that you couldn't replicate even if you tried.

He smiled up at you so softly you'd think he was on his knees to propose. But no. Instead of opening up a little box, he opened the fly to your pants.

"Can you look at me, please?"

You sighed, looking down. "What?"

"You really don't look like you're against this. I'd even go so far as to say you want me, but you're too much of a pussy to admit it."

You did want him. BUT. You were against this. Because it was wrong. But you were letting him kiss up your thighs, bite at your lower abdomen.

Meaning it was the world according to Nate and it both infuriated you and turned you on.

FUCK.

Hums came from both your mouth and his, and before you knew it, your fingers felt nothing but the locks of his hair, pulling so hard there was no way he wasn't in pain. And he must have been, because gently, so seamlessly, he trailed his hand up to yours, removing it from his hair and interlocking it with his own.

But he didn't pause. His tongue continued doing... well, whatever the hell it was doing that made you want to stab the Earth for being able to produce Nate Jacobs as well as praise it for... well, being able to produce Nate Jacobs.

"You're a virgin?", he asked, breathless, raising a brow in incredulity.

You'd be lying if you said your brain even registered his question - registered anything but his tongue and lips.

"Are you a virgin?"

"Why? Don't tell me this is still a test to see if I'm easy or not-"

"It's not.", he assured, reaching up slowly, and then kissing your cheek of all fucking places. One of his hands trailed back down and into you while the other one immediately closed your mouth, though you had no idea why. It was a fucking desolate high school football field. No one was going to hear anyway.

He grinned, pressing his forehead against yours as he added another finger, curling them as he worked into you. "Shh, shh, shh.", he murmured, after probably feeling the results of you trying not to lose your shit beneath his palm.

"See? We go great together."

You screamed. But it didn't quite carry.

He frowned in confusion for a moment when you made a muffled noise and then muttered an 'ah' as he gently removed his palm from your mouth.

"That's not..."

"Hm? That's not what?"

You could have killed yourself right there, because he smirked is what he did. He smirked when you couldn't finish (and barely even start) your sentences.

"That's not even remotely..."

You were stalling. That was clear. Why? You didn't know. There was no logical reason. He was already fucking inside you, there was no point in backing out of this now.

But there was reason to hesitate.

He sighed, licking his lips and shaking his head in disappointment, brushing hair from your face. "Hey."

"What?"

"If you don't fuck me right now, I will lose my shit. I will cut myself. I will play Russian Roulette again. That work for you?"

Oh, this sick, sick, sick, SICK motherfucker.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

Why you did it? Question for the ages.

You should've said no. You should've gone home. You didn't go home, though, not even after the fact. You probably should have.

Instead, you found yourself back at Fezco's store. Not voluntarily, either, it just seemed your car was as drained as you were, and you forgot to fill it back up.

"Rue?", you called out into what you imagined to be an abyss. Her voice appeared like light at the end of a tunnel. "Hey."

"You high?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I need someone to pick me up."

"Maddy's not free?"

"I didn't check."

"Well.", she groaned, shifting around, clearly in some sort of drug-induced discomfort, "You should. I don't wanna kill you, y'know, you mean so fucking much to me."

The sarcasm in her voice was mildly hurtful, but hey. At least she cared enough not to kill you.

More than Nate had ever cared.

"Okay."

So, of course, you called Cassie. Because no fucking way were you calling Maddy to come pick you up from the store owned by the local dealer, which was suspiciously close to the party thrown by her ex.

The car ride with her was smooth and lovely and peaceful. Because she was smooth and lovely and peaceful.

"You think your car will be safe, out there, all night?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I told Fez. He knows what to do."

"Y/N, I... I've noticed you've been off, like, the last term or so."

You did not need her therapy session right now.

"Nah, I'm fine."

"You're not.", she chuckled, nervously, shaking her head as she slowed down at the red light. "You seem on edge. I think it's cause of him."

"Him?" WHAT? How the fuck did this ditz know?

"Yeah. Like, I don't know, maybe you're in love with him, and you think it's, like... forbidden, because he's a bad influence or something, but you just kinda look... strung out. Like there's a huge secret you're keeping."

She was supposed to be clueless about what was going on around her. Isn't that the thing they say about hot blondes?

"Love? In love? With who?"

"Fezco, of course. I get it, he's a dealer, but he's also hot, and I guess, let's face it, he's quite nice for a criminal."

Oh, thank god. The dumb blonde theory stands.

"I'm not in love with Fez."

"Then why are you so... off?"

"I...", you sighed, deciding to stick to the truth as much as safely possible. "I got in with some bad people during spring break."

The look of concern on her face made you want to apologize and buy her whatever she wanted, or maybe even confess to every fucking sinful thought you'd ever had.

"What? Oh, my god, what? Like, hard drugs and shit?"

"More like guns and shit."

"Y/N, WHAT?!"

"Yeah, it was fucked up, but I'm out of it now, though, so you don't have to worry, okay, Cass? I'm peachy. I'm great, honest! Hey, it's turning amber."

She frowned, turning back to the road in front of her. "You sure?"

You'd never been more grateful for Nate throwing the lamp to your right rather than your left.

You'd never been more grateful for Nate giving you a hickey on your right rather than your left.

You nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, though."

"So. Did you... you went to his party, right? Did you see him? Did you guys talk?"

It took you a moment to figure out that she was talking about her ex.

"McKay? Yeah. Yeah."

"How is he? Did he mention me?"

"He's, um... he's doing fine, I guess. He looks like he misses you, but you know him. He probably won't tell me."

"I just... maybe we... I just want to, um... fix things."

"You should."

"You think?"

You nodded. What the fuck else could you do to distract her from the fact that if she took one look down, she'd see Nate blowing up your phone? "Yeah, you guys were great together."

You instantly cringed. Because that was what Nate had said about you and him. "See? We go great together."'

"I don't know if I want him back, or what. What do you think?"

That I just fucked Nate Jacobs. And that the molly was only half of it. That I'm going to kill myself.

"I think... I think you broke up for a reason, Cass."

She nodded, and the rest of the car ride went in pleasant silence.

Then she dropped you home.

And Rue was waiting for you.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

"You're pissing me off. What is this, blackmail?'

"Yeah. It is. I saw you two in the bleachers, and if you tell people I'm not sober, I'll let it slip that you let Nate Jacobs inside you."

Keep your calm. If you show even a tiny sign of accepting that she was right, you're dead meat. "It was a psych project. He had just finished a practice, so we sat there and finished some work."

"With tequila?"

Silence. Okay. She was not talking about tonight. She was talking about the gun-night. This was salvageable.

"Funnily enough, Y/N, according to what Lexi told me, there's been no 'psych assignment-slash-project.'"

"Rue-"

"So you've not only been lying to all of us, you've been betraying Maddy. And you've done Jules so wrong.'

"Look, you don't even know-"

"Then tell me."

So you did. You told her about the Instagram story, you told her about the Russian roulette, hell, you even told her about the dinner and the scar. What you didn't tell her about was the sex. The mind-blowing guilt-inducing sex.

"But I saw you kiss him on the bleachers."

"I was drunk, Rue. I'd have let the fucking janitor kiss me."

"Look, Y/N, those are my terms."

"You're asking me to lie to everyone about your health, your wellbeing! We're all looking out for you, Rue! Y'can't just blackmail me into not doing right by you."

"As nice as that is, the fact still stands that you fucked Nate."

FUCK!

"Rue, please-"

"He doesn't even fucking want you. He wants to get back at Maddy, and you're too fucked out to see it!"

"Rue, you're crossing the li-"

"I bet that fucking him was the only thing you've been doing this whole time. What, did you fuck him when Maddy was with him?"

Rue laughed after you slapped her and that definitely told you she was so high she couldn't even feel it. "C'mon. Grow up.", she scoffed, tucking hair behind your ear. "Girl code's not important anymore, is it? We're all eighteen - adults - now."

WHY must everyone always do that with your hair? So fucking condescendingly, too?!

"Rue, I didn't fuck Nate Jacobs."

"Then why is he blowing up your phone? Yeah, you think I didn't notice the name on your screen?"

"He blows up my phone because he's a psycho- I told you about the Russian Roulette thing and the gun and the slit wris-"

"Yeah, but you said you asked him to leave you alone and he did. Why would he break no contact? What could've happened?"

"Rue, I am not going to help you fake sobriety in front of your family- I- Rue, what is that?"

She frowned, looking down and following your line of sight. Her bag. The front zip. A needle. She looked back up, deadpan. "Fent."

"RUE! YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME T-"

"Look, Y/N, I like you, I do. There's no reason for you to worry, okay? If you could be quiet, your life will go on as it always does. No reputation loss, no guilt, no embarrassment."

"This will kill you! I can't do that to you, Rue, please!"

"But you can do Nate Jacobs?"

You were genuinely about to strangle this fucking trapper cunt.

"Think about it."

What, had she gotten lessons in blackmail from him?

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

That night, you were too fucking exhausted to even question why Nate was knocking at your window. You just opened it for him. You just let him kiss you. You just let him tuck your hair behind your fucking ear.

"I have a question."

"What?"

"Did you visit Shane in the hospital?"

Okay. No way he could have found out about that. You didn't tell a single fucking soul.

"Huh?"

"I beat him up for you. 'Cause he was saying you fucked when you didn't.", he said, his voice oddly calm for a man betrayed.

"I didn't ask you to!"`

"Please.", he scoffed, clapping sarcastically. "Biggest cop-out of the century."

"I didn't!"

"He was calling you a slut, basically. As if you'd just give it up to anyone." What, like he knew you that well?

"Hundreds of people say hundreds of shit about me every fucking day! What am I, supposed to set you on them?"

"You could."

You scoffed.

"I'm being serious. You could say "'sic 'em' " and I'd beat them to a bloody pulp.", he informed, brushing hair over your ear again. "Say it. Tell me someone to beat up. I'll do it. No matter who it is."

"Nate. I didn't ask you to do any of this. I asked you to leave me alone, and you did the opposite!"

"You're acting like I showed up, fucked you, and then just left!"

He clenched his jaw, his grip on the piece of hair he just pushed behind your ear, now shifting to the rest of your hair. "No, cunt. I said 'I love you'. Or did you conveniently forget that?"

Oh. Right. THAT.

"What? You're suddenly acting like a pussy, baby, what's up with that? Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't remember. Don't be a pussy. C'mon, tell me. Oh, yeah, wait a minute, you can't."

"You didn't mean that. You wanted to get what you wanted, so you-"

"You think I say shit like 'I love you' lightly? You think I throw that word around?" Yes, he did, but you didn't need to know that. He decided to deploy the trauma card.

"You've seen what my parents are like. You think I'd abuse the words 'I love you'?"

"I guess not-"

"Yeah. EXACTLY."

Ooh, you were putty in his hands and he almost got a semi because of it.

"Look, okay, fine, Nate, that- that was out of pocket, but you can't expect me to-"

"But I do. I have never lied to you. Have I? I've blackmailed you and threatened you and, fuck, yeah, I've stuck a goddamn gun down your throat, but when have I ever lied?"

"So you're saying you 'love' me and I have to just accept it."

"I'm saying I love you, and you have to just believe it.'

And god help you, you somehow did.

"Rue's blackmailing me."

He mock-gasped. "You're cheating on me, then."

You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips. Him being so calm in the face of danger should make him look foolish in your eyes, not admirable.

And the molly excuse was being held up by string the breadth of dental floss, honestly.

"Does she use firearms as well? Did you think about me the whole time?" He was clearly trying to make you laugh, and it was working.

He kissed your forehead. "What did she blackmail you for?"

"For or about?"

"Both."

"For : keeping her relapse a secret from everyone. About : the gun-night at the bleachers."

"Okay, so the choice is clear."

"What?"

Nate Jacobs had scared you when he'd said he loved you and when he'd said he'd kill himself for you, but he'd never scared you as much as he did with what he said next.

"We just sit back and watch that bitch OD."

[annwrites]

⸻ i'm fearless, except when it comes to you. ⸻

· pairing: fezco x bestfriend!reader · type: one-shot · summary: you & fez have been best friends since kindergarten. and eventually, that friendship turns into so much more. · tags: friendship, fwb, falling love, fluff, found family · tw: canon-typical violence, murder, domestic abuse, death, cussing, guns, sex · word count: 8,185

Since you were five-years-old, you and Fezco had been best friends. Practically inseparable. Two halves of a whole.

He’d been your first kiss in kindergarten, and when you were sixteen and he seventeen—your first time.

It'd started out with the two of you lying together on the couch watching a movie, you pressed against his side, his arm around you, which had led to him tickling you on the floor, to him gently moving his hand under your shirt. And then he'd been given your blessing to remove each item of your clothing one-by-one until you were naked before him.

He'd seen you undressed before—more times than he could count—from you just getting out of the shower and raiding his closet for a t-shirt to wear to bed, dropping your towel right in front of him as you dressed, to you trying on clothes in front of him.

Not to mention the summer before, when there'd been a three-day blackout and the apartment had gotten to damn-near a hundred degrees. So the two of you had—through nervous giggles—stripped down naked and hold up in his room, lying on his bed and just talking. For hours.

You'd cursed the power when it came back on.

But this instance had been different. Context mattered. The most intimate thing the two of you had done before this was making out with tongue, his hands never touching any other part of you than your face or hips.

And so the both of you had spent the next fifteen minutes on the floor with your legs thrown over his shoulders, his face between your thighs. When you had finished, him kissing you there a few times, he'd rested his chin on your pelvic bone, smiling up at you.

He'd then gotten up, him taking your hand in his as he led you to his bedroom and the two of you had made love.

He'd been slow, gentle, sweet. His fingers twined between yours, soft kisses shared between the two of you as he eased himself in and out of you, telling you more times than you could count how much he loved you.

You'd cried after, tears of happiness, as he held you in his arms, pressed against his chest.

And that night something permanently shifted between the two of you. What you had, had become so much more than friendship. You couldn't even call it love, because you'd already had that before the sex.

Perhaps falling in love? But you'd already felt that toward him beforehand.

In the end, neither of you felt a need to put a label on what you had, what you were. You loved each other and that was all that mattered.

The two of you were faithful to one another. You didn't even look in another's direction. Your eyes were only for each other.

And you took care of him and he you.

You grew up in a rough household, which was putting it lightly. You showed up to Fez's with fresh bruises fairly regularly, until one day he'd had enough.

Eventually, the day came when he'd put his foot down and told you that you were moving in and that was the end of it. You'd agreed easily.

Fez wasn’t going to tolerate his abusive behavior toward you just on principal, but the fact he’d endured such treatment himself…your dad was lucky that Fez had let him live so long.

So, he'd driven you home, gathered your things—what little you had—loading them all into his car, but just before leaving, your dad had showed up, high as a kite, screaming that you weren't going anywhere.

He'd grabbed you, and hit you right in front of Fezco.

You'd never seen Fez lose his temper before that day. He'd hauled off on your dad, and when he released you, Fez had told you sternly to get in the car and to stay there.

You'd watched, trembling, as he beat your father to a bloody pulp. He'd then grabbed the back of his head by his hair, forcing him to look to the passenger side where you sat and he brought his mouth close to his ear, pointing to you, his top lip in a permanent sneer as he said something to him. Your dad had nodded fervently before Fezco let him go, his face smacking off of the pavement when he did.

He'd then walked around to the driver's side and sped away, holding your hand in his the entire time he drove the two of you back to what was now your new home.

Your hands had been trembling, but not out of fear of him. No, you were never afraid of him.

Rather afraid of your father calling the police on Fez just to get even.

Thankfully, that never happened.

You'd lightly ran the fingers of your opposite hand over his bloodied knuckles and he'd shrugged—reading your mind. "Be alright. He finally got what he had comin'."

That night, you'd showered with him, gently washing the blood from his face, tending to his now-swollen knuckles. He'd told you not to bother, but after, you'd put antibiotic ointment on them, wrapped them in clean bandages, and held a bag of frozen vegetables against them as the two of you lied in bed in silence.

Your being so quiet had made Fez uneasy. You were always talking his ear off—which he adored. But he knew you feared men; understood it. Your father had instilled such a feeling inside of you at a young age.

He'd never forget the one and only time you'd flinched at his touch.

When you were younger, you'd hid it well—your at-home life—but one day, when you were thirteen, the two of you had been hanging out at the shop, and you'd been helping Ash stock shelves. At one point, you'd turned and Fez had been behind you. He'd lifted his hand to grab something off the top shelf and you'd flinched so hard you'd slammed your head into the display, nearly knocking it over.

You'd burst into tears near-instantly, running into the back and locking yourself in the bathroom for nearly an hour.

He'd stood on the other side of that door, fighting back tears himself just from hearing you in so much pain. He'd begged softly for you to please let him in—all he wanted was to hold you—but you'd told him, quietly, that you didn't want to be touched at that moment.

He'd understood, but it had still stung. He wanted to be a safe place for you. A safe person. A safe man.

Once you had finally come out, your eyes and nose both red from crying, you'd slowly looked up to him and his eyes had been full of a feeling you couldn't place. Sympathy? Pity?

You later realized it had been love.

He'd sat you down and you finally told him everything.

He'd never been more angry in his entire life, but he didn't show that to you. Not for a moment. He never ever wanted you afraid of him. Not for one fucking second.

So you lying there next to him, completely silent... He couldn't not do—say—something.

He rolled over, setting the bag of vegetables to the side and he gently caressed your cheek. "I never meant to scare you. 'M sorry if-"

You raised your head up enough to press your lips to his, cutting him off. You kissed him long and deep and he let you, enjoying every moment.

When you pulled away, you gently ran your fingers through the beginnings of a beard that he was trying to grow. "I'm not scared of you."

He'd studied you for a moment, running the fingers of his injured hand through your soft hair, his eyes looking into yours before he finally pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering to you that he loved you before the two of you fell asleep, his body wrapped around your own.

Adjusting to living with Fez hadn't been all that difficult. You already spent nearly every day over there with him and Ash, cleaning, cooking, sometimes decorating. You'd even occasionally buy fresh flowers to put in cheap vases on the windowsill—Fez refusing to throw them out until they were brown and wilting. But you still worried, nonetheless, that he would eventually tire of you; deeming that he'd made a mistake in asking you to live with him.

Hanging out regularly was one thing. Being around each other every waking and non-waking moment of every day something else entirely. And what would Ash think?

Your fears of Ash feeling like you were just barging into he and his brother's home—because that's what the two of them practically were to one another—was put to rest the next morning, with Ash telling you over breakfast that it was "'bout damn time" and that he had apparently told Fez once that the two of them should've "taken your old man out a long time ago" after you showed up with a black eye one night.

Fez had only smirked, shrugging, replying with a "maybe so", brushing his foot against yours under the table.

In truth, it made Ash very happy to see the both of you together—whether you both wanted to call it "being together" or not—he thought it incredibly stupid that the two of you didn't just call yourselves boyfriend and girlfriend.

He'd never say it out loud, but he saw you as a maternal figure, and he was grateful to have you around all the time now. He told Fez it was just so they wouldn't have to worry about where to bury your dad's body anymore, but in reality...clean sheets, freshly-washed clothes, and hot dinners every night were a really nice thing to have. And there'd been that one time you'd taken care of him when he came down with the flu and spent the next three days puking up his fucking guts.

The three of you may've been small and all coming from broken homes, but together you made what felt like one big family.

You didn't mind—never had, really—that Fez was a drug-dealer. He'd talked to you about it a few days after your fully settling in, telling you that you living there was putting you at risk.

It'd been different when you were just there hanging out; if the police busted in, you could easily feign ignorance of his...business ventures.

He made it clear that he wanted you there, but understood if you left because you had some place better to live.

Even if the both of you knew you had nowhere else to go.

He told you if SWAT busted down the door, or he was arrested, you'd go down right alongside him as an accomplice. That no matter how much he may want to, he wouldn't be able to protect you from the cops, especially if he himself were behind bars.

You'd simply climbed into his lap, straddling him, and told him there was nowhere else you'd rather be—risk of arrest notwithstanding.

He loved you for it—loving him despite who and what he was—but the feeling that you deserved better was always there. But if you wanted to be there, he wasn't going to waste his breath trying to convince you otherwise.

Refusing to do so was the most selfish thing he'd probably ever done. Because you were his whole world and he didn't want to lose you. He wanted you there, with him.

Gradually, those lines between best friends and something more—maybe lovers—began to blur.

You'd given each other pecks on the lips before and told each other "love you" numerous times, but those pecks turned into deeper kisses, longer. "Love you" turned into "I love you".

The first time he'd seen you naked had been an accident. You'd just gotten out of the shower and had walked into his room to dress. He'd been unaware you were naked when he had pushed the cracked door open, leaning in the doorway, asking if you wanted to get takeout that night—Ash offering to go pick it up.

He'd froze when he saw you clutching one of his t-shirts to your middle, every inch of your naked frontside visible to him.

It was like his mind had short-circuited in that moment and all he could manage to do was stare. And stare. Eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open.

And while you hadn't frozen, you stood there anyway, wanting him to look at you. Finally, he had walked over, gently taking the t-shirt from your grip before unfolding it and slipping it on over your head. You looked up to him, tucking your hair back behind your ears, now slightly embarrassed. "Chinese sounds good."

He smiled down at you.

Over time, you started wearing more and more of Fez's clothes. Mostly to bed. And only ever just t-shirts. You eventually stopped bothering with panties. And he certainly noticed when you were in the kitchen, reaching for a glass on the top shelf of a cabinet. He told himself for the longest time he'd move them down lower, but never did.

He had offered to sleep on the pullout couch when you first moved in, telling you that his bed was all yours if you wanted it, but you'd instead asked "what if we just slept together". He liked that idea much better.

He himself usually slept naked, but opted for wearing boxers to bed for awhile for your sake. One night, however, he took them off beforehand, heart pounding, but curious what your reaction might be to him doing so. You'd merely glanced up to him, flushed, then said, "oh" before looking back to the book you were currently reading.

After he climbed into bed beside you, you eventually gave up on the page you'd tried to read five times in a row and decided to lie down for the night as well. It was almost three a.m. before you found sleep.

The next night, as payback—rather, you wanted to be naked beside him, but never would admit that out loud—you had come into the bedroom, Fez playing something on his Xbox, and shut the door behind you before reaching down to the hem of his t-shirt you had on and pulling it off, tossing it on the floor.

All you could remember was him cursing as he lost the round, his attention now firmly elsewhere.

And then it became nightly: the two of you going to bed naked, but never doing anything more intimate than talking before going to sleep.

Sometimes each of you would wake up with the other wrapped around you, but when morning came, neither of you said anything about it. It was just the way things were. Sometimes the two of you found each other in your sleep. Sometimes not.

Fez tried to drive you to and from school as much as possible, but between the shop and dealing, it wasn't always feasible, since he needed to be home a lot. You understood that, but always felt giddy when you saw his black Impala in the parking lot. Him usually leaning against the passenger side smoking, waiting for you.

Others would stare as you ran into his arms, squealing as he picked you up and spun you around—your legs wrapped around his middle—but neither of you paid your classmates any mind.

He'd drive you back home with his hand between your thighs, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin of your leg, his other hand resting over the steering wheel.

The one time you'd taken his hand and moved it under your panties instead, he'd swerved into another lane, nearly causing a wreck. You'd sheepishly apologized, and never did it again.

He'd merely told you with a laugh "Lemme know next time you're gonna do something like that, baby, so I can pull over first".

Sometimes, neither of you could wait that fifteen minute drive back home and he'd pull off into a secluded spot off the main road and you'd climb into his lap, unbuckling his belt, him pulling your panties to the side under your dress as he eased into you.

You both prayed your birth control had worked every time he came inside of you.

He had promised you in the dark of the bedroom one night, however, that if one day it didn't, he'd take care of you. Both of you. If that's what you wanted.

You'd pressed your naked body even closer to his and whispered that it would be.

After school, once your homework was completed, you'd sometimes clean the apartment, the windows open and your favorite music drifting down the hall as you checked in on his grandma every once in awhile, making sure she was alright.

Other times, you'd go to the shop with him and watch as he worked. Once, shortly before closing, you'd been sitting atop a freezer in the front near the register, which housed various types of ice-cream. Fez had been between your legs, which were wrapped around his middle, your panties already in his pocket. You'd had your fingers clutching the gold chain around his neck, holding him in place as the two of you kissed, his hands gripping your bare hips under your dress, your slickness making a wet spot on the front of his jeans.

Until you were rudely interrupted by a boy you went to school with, but had never bothered learning the name of. He was tall, brunet, with an unhappy look on his face as he watched the two of you.

"Could somebody ring me up already?" He said, voice full of impatience, if not also a hint of disgust.

Not that either of you cared.

Fez had given you a peck on the nose and stepped away with a "back to work; you gotta stop distracting me, shawty" before bagging his things and sending him on his way.

You laughed, since he was the one who'd lifted you onto the cooler in the first place, and stealing your panties had been all his idea.

The guy had given you a dirty look as he left, but as soon as Fezco had his lips on your neck and his hand between your thighs, you quickly forgot about him.

When Fez was making deals in the apartment, you were always instructed to stay in the bedroom with the door locked, and for you to stay quiet. You never argued, understanding he sometimes did business with some very nasty and dangerous people.

You feared for his safety at times, but he was good at what he did and had never had any negative altercations thus far.

And he was always packing.

Which may or may not have turned you on all the more when you were in his lap and could feel a gun in his waistband.

You once told him as much and his brows had raised, a quite-surprised expression overtaking his features. "really?" he asked in disbelief. All it had taken was moving his hand between your legs and a "really" in reply before the two of you had sex right there on the couch. Twice.

After that day, he began cleaning his guns a lot more often, right in front of you. You usually just smirked and laughed about it, but it always got him his desired result—you inevitably coming over and silently taking his hand, leading him into the bedroom.

There had been a night when the two of you were in the middle of having sex when someone had started pounding on the front door. You'd immediately froze, staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

Ash had been outside your door immediately, telling Fez to get a gun—he already had his—and come find out who it is.

Fez had slipped out of you, quickly dressing, telling you to stay put as he hid a pistol in the back of his pants, exiting the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

You'd walked silently over to the door, pressed your ear up against it, and listened for something—anything. Praying whatever was about to transpire...if it ended badly, that it would be for the other party.

You heard male voices. You were unable to make out what was being said, but the voices weren't raised, and the door hadn't been slammed or kicked in. So you'd gone back to bed, now a bit calmer, and eventually you drifted off to sleep.

But you had fucked up in forgetting to lock the door.

When Fez found Mouse in the bedroom, looking down at you sleeping—thankfully clutching blankets to your front, only your back bare—his hand brushing some hair out of your face, tracing his knuckles along your soft cheek, Fez had filled with murderous rage.

"Get. Out. This room is off fuckin' limits."

Mouse had only glanced back to him. "Door was unlocked, homes. Told you I was lookin' for the bathroom. Guess I chose the wrong room," he said with a shrug.

Fez took a step closer. "Told you it was at the very end of the hall. This look like the end of the fuckin' hall to you?"

He was beginning to raise his voice and you stirred in your sleep, then settled again. Mouse turned a bit more toward him, raising a finger to his lips. Then, "She's fuckin' fine, man. Looks like you got yourself some A1 pussy, if I say so myself." He smirked. "Ever think of sharin' with a brother?"

If Fez didn't get him out of the bedroom and even further away from you, and soon, he was going to commit a felony.

"I don't fuckin' share, so no."

When Mouse looked back to him, not liking his tone, he immediately took note of the gun that was now-visible in his front waistband, his t-shirt tucked behind it.

Mouse then looked into his eyes, the two of them staring one another down for just a moment, before Mouse finally stepped away from you. "Normally, I wouldn't tolerate that threat shit. But I'll give you a pass tonight. I know how it can be when a bitch got you wrapped around her finger."

As they stepped back out into the hall, Fez locking, then closing the door behind him, he gave Mouse a simple reply: "Don't ever fuckin' talk about her like that again."

Rue becomes the first person Fez eventually refuses to deal to.

She doesn't take kindly to his refusal, and you can see how much her reaction to it hurts him—the obscenities she screams at him, yelling that he was the one who had made her into what she had become. All you could do was press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around him, waiting for her to leave.

He'd leaned his head against one of the walls in the hall and whispered "I did the right thing, right?" to you, which you had replied that he had, that this was the best thing for her, and that you loved him.

But that day hadn't been the last time either of you would see her. Your dislike for her grows as she gets Fez involved in her own personal issues with your fellow classmates, like Nate Jacobs. The same boy who'd given you both such a nasty look the day you'd been enjoying one another's company atop the cooler.

Nate comes by one day, once again late at night, and Fez makes it clear that he's to stay clear of Rue and her friend, Jules.

Nate had insulted Fez, then had asked, after Fez had threatened his life—staring at you all the while—if the list of people he was to stay away from included anybody else, or if 'lil' miss white-trash-beautiful' was free game.

You'd raced over to Fez before he could do something he would end up regretting as he quickly stepped around the register, taking both of his hands in yours, telling him what Nate had said didn't matter and to just let it go—let him go. You'd begged him to just look at you, but he refused to do so until Nate had finally driven away.

And then he had. He'd removed his right hand from yours and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, gripping your chin in his fingers, before looking into your eyes. "If he ever comes near you again, I won't hesitate to put his ass six feet in the fuckin' ground".

You never told him how wet that one comment alone had made you. He didn't need anymore encouragement to go after and kill him.

And then the cops had raided the apartment and you, Fez, and Ash had scrambled to flush all the drugs down the toilet, Fez panicking, telling you to climb out one of the windows, but you refused to leave the two of them.

And that night was the first time you'd not only had a gun pointed at you, but the first time you'd ended up in cuffs.

You and Ash had sat on the floor while the police questioned Fezco for the next over an hour about where the drugs were, all while he played stupid.

And then the cops had laid into you, telling you that they could help you—get you away from your "abusive lowlife boyfriend", that they could "get you into rehab if he had you strung out, if you'd just cooperate". You did just as you and Fez had rehearsed and used tears to your benefit, telling them you didn't have any idea what they were talking about. That the three of you had just been getting ready to make dinner when they'd torn your home apart.

That Fez loved you.

And then you took the lie a step further, telling them to please uncuff you. Your stomach hurt and you were worried all of this stress was going to make you miscarry. You'd begged them—you couldn't lose your baby.

Fez had sat there frozen, completely fucking petrified, staring at you, a thousand thoughts going through his head. The most prominent among them? He'd nearly gotten you killed all over a few grand in narcotics. You, and your and his baby both.

The sob story hadn't deterred the police in their interrogation. The most they'd done was uncuff your hands, which you'd then gingerly placed over your stomach.

Once the police had left, Fez had dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing his hands to your stomach, asking over and over again if you were ok, if the baby was ok.

Ash had called him "fuckin' stupid", asking if he'd really believed that.

Fez had looked up to you confused and your face went red with embarrassment. "I thought it would get them out faster."

Hurt flashed across his features then, and you felt sick with yourself.

That night, you'd apologized profusely in bed, but so did he.

In the end, the both of you decided there was nothing which needed forgiven.

Fez admitted, only for a moment, that the thought of the two of you having a baby had actually...excited him, even if he worried about what sort of life he could provide for the both of you.

And then you'd told him when the time came, the both of you would figure that out together; it wasn't all on him. And then you had had sex. And for the first time, even if it was incredibly stupid of him, Fez hoped something more would come from it.

When you'd expressed fear to Fez of what would happen with people he owed money and product to now that he couldn't pay them, he'd merely told you that he'd "take care of it".

When he came back home one night with a few grand in a duffel bag, you never asked where it had come from. You'd just helped him count and hide it.

And then you had washed his bloody clothes, telling him to also shower to remove the evidence of whatever he had done.

Fez hadn't told you his intentions for the New Year's Eve party at Virgil's. He'd simply told you that the three of you were going to have a good time. And on the way there, he'd promised to kiss you at midnight, earning a groan from Ash in the backseat, which had made you laugh.

As the clock struck closer to that time, however, Fez had excused himself from the couch the two of you were seated on, saying he was getting up to get a drink. You'd tensed up as you watched him and Nate converse for a moment, Nate looking at you for a moment.

And that's when Fez had busted a bottle over his head.

Nate had fallen to the floor, Fez climbing on top of him and beating him within an inch of his life.

You'd stood by, horrified, as Nate's face became more and more bloodied and swollen. It took two guys to pull Fez away and once they had, he'd quickly grabbed your hand, leading you out of the house, Ash already waiting in the car.

And that's when you realized it had all been pre-planned.

You'd asked him why on the way home, and he'd told you his theory that, after him threatening Nate, he'd been the one to call the cops. And him making a vulgar comment about you—once again—had been the last straw.

You and Fez fucked until you were sore that night.

Some weeks later, Nate's dad showed up and Ash beat the living hell out of him with the butt-end of a rifle every time he got smart as Fez questioned him, until blood was pouring from the top of his head.

The more he and Fez talked, the more confused every one of you grew. By the end, Fez had something monumental over Cal—and you supposed, by extension, Nate, as this getting out would ruin the entire Jacobs family—he'd made a sex-tape with Jules. He'd said at one point that he "didn't know". Fez had of course misinterpreted what he'd meant.

But you understood.

Either he was lying, or he truly hadn't known she was a minor. Either way, he had made a disc which contained...something that would land him in prison for perhaps the rest of his life. And if he was anything like his son, maybe he would deserve it.

You, Fez, and Ash had stayed up most of the night in the living room, Little House playing softly in the background as the three of you debated what to do with the new information you’d been given.

Ash wanted to report him to the police—destroy his and Nate’s life. Mostly Nate’s for the raid, which you were sure Ash would never get past.

You wanted to sit on it. You didn’t want to do anything rash. Not yet. You weren’t even sure that—once he was out of the hospital—you wanted Nate aware of what you all now knew about his father. It would’ve provided some sick sense of satisfaction to throw such a thing in his face, sure. But he’d—at least most likely—called the cops on you all once already.

There was no telling what he might do if you blew his entire life up in the worst way possible.

As for Fez, he’d stated the obvious: unless you all got ahold of a copy of that disc, what you all knew didn’t mean shit. Only having solid proof of what Cal had done would get you anywhere.

And so the subject was dropped. But it was always there, waiting. As was the paranoia of Nate going a step further in getting revenge after what had happened during New Years.

You lost a bit of sleep over it all for a few weeks.

That constant stress loomed over your head of losing everything.

And you knew if Nate did it—if he sought vengeance again—it would be the last time. Fezco would kill him. And you’d do whatever was asked of you to help. Even though you knew Fez would never involve you in such a thing.

He’d already tried to destroy the life you all had worked so hard to build and keep ahold of once. It wasn’t going to happen again.

But, surprisingly, once Nate had recovered and was back at school…nothing happened.

And just as you were beginning to grow comfortable again, Mouse was beginning to become more and more of a problem. Constantly pushing for Fez to sell more product and earn more money and give him a bigger cut.

Until the night Ash killed him with a hammer.

You’d been locked in the bedroom, same as always, some cheesy romance movie on TV which was slowly putting you to sleep, until you heard yelling.

You’d jolted awake, heart racing, fear running through you.

And then you’d done something very stupid.

You’d gone in the closet, retrieved one of Fez’s glocks and exited the bedroom. You’d stepped quietly down the hall—silent as can be, your heart pounding in your ears—then peeked around the corner and you had froze when you saw it.

Mouse was dead, Custer and Ash screaming at each other—blood pouring from Custer’s nose, which was now a bloody mess.

Ash insistent that, had he not done it, Mouse would’ve shot Fez.

You’d gasped, dropping the gun. It thumped against the floor, making all three of them turn toward you as you covered your mouth, tears now slipping from your eyes as you choked back panicked sobs.

Fez quickly stepped over to you, turning you away from the gruesome sight before you as he held you against his chest with one hand, the other coming up to cup the back of your head. He’d whispered soothing words, telling you—promising you—that everything would be ok. That he would explain it all to you later. But, for right now, he needed you to go back in the bedroom and not come back out until he told you otherwise.

You’d looked up to him, your chin wobbling, and nodded, turning to go back down the hall.

You had nightmares for weeks afterward. About Mouse not actually being dead and coming to kill all three of you. Or about the cops coming to take Fezco and Ash away. Once, you’d had a dream about Fezco standing over you with a pistol. You’d shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, a gunshot ringing in your ears.

You never told him about the last one.

The others you weren’t exactly able to hide. The two of you usually fell asleep with you in his arms, pressed close to his chest, his thigh wedged between both of your legs. So when you would start to whine or cry or thrash in your sleep…well, it obviously woke him as well. And usually it took the better part of an hour for him to calm you enough before you managed to fall back asleep.

You drug at school most days, daydreaming about getting back home, stripping, and crawling beneath the covers for a couple of hours before getting up to make dinner and do your homework.

Until you started waking to dinner having been prepared for you and Ash having done your homework, even if you insisted that him doing so wasn’t necessary—he had enough on his plate. But he usually just brushed such insistence off.

Eventually, the nightmares started to lessen and you did your best to forget about Mouse. About that night. And your life, once again, returned to normal.

The most exciting thing that even occurred came a few weeks later: the news coming to light that Nate had apparently been hooking up with Cassie while he and Maddy were broken up…or on a break…or whatever they were. You didn’t really care.

And then had come Lexi’s play, where she’d seemingly cast knock-off versions of all of her friends and their friends and aired all of their dirty laundry for the whole school to see.

You’d skipped it, but had heard bits-and-pieces about it around school. A small part of you even wished that you had gone to it just to see Maddy and Cassie beating the crap out of each other on-stage, if nothing else.

Instead, you had stayed home with Fez and Ash, the three of you eating dinner and then playing Monopoly, which you were sure Ash had cheated at, but you couldn’t prove how.

Fez had tried to bribe you into selling him your properties through the promise of whispered sexual favors—Ash yelling for him to ‘knock it the fuck off’, and that he ‘wasn’t being fair’. You’d given him Park Place without qualms and it had earned you half an hour of oral once you were both in bed for the night.

Boardwalk had earned you him tying you up and having his way with you. He’d asked how, exactly, that was supposed to be considered you winning something for yourself when he was getting to have all the fun, but you’d replied simply by spreading your legs and calling him daddy.

He’d had no idea what to do with that other than laugh.

You’d flushed out of embarrassment, having never called him that before, but he’d made love to you for over an hour anyway.

During the summer, between your junior and senior year, the best day of your life happened. Up until that point, that is, at least.

You’d gone out to run a few errands—Fez and Ash continuously sending you things they’d forgotten to ask you to pickup before you’d left—your fuse growing shorter with every item you had to backtrack in the Impala to go get.

When you finally got back to the apartment, ready to explode once you got through the door, you’d stopped, all anger leaving you when you took in the sight before you.

The windows were open, the apartment spotless, and candles and flowers everywhere. And right in front of you was Fezco, down on one knee, a small box with a ring inside in his trembling hand.

You’d dropped the groceries you’d been holding, your hands coming up to rest over your mouth as tears welled in your eyes.

You’d stepped closer, until he took your left hand in his, and he said so many sweet and loving things.

He told you how you were the love of his life, how you held his heart in the palms of your hands, how you were the only woman he had and would ever want. He told you how desperate he was to start the rest of his life with you as his wife, how he wanted to give you his name—the first of many things he wanted to give you—or, rather, continue to give you as he had already done so much for you.

And you’d dropped to your knees and kissed him, deeply. And you had of course said yes. And he’d slid the simple diamond ring on your finger that he’d found at a pawnshop almost an hour of town (he’d scoured all the ones nearby, but nothing had seemed right—none had been the one for you), until one was.

And then you’d made love right there on the floor.

Senior year, you stayed to yourself. You didn’t bother making friends with the other students, or seeing what their lives were like. You wanted no part in any of that—their breakups and fights and stupid shallow drama. You just focused on your life with Fez and Ash and their grandma, Marie.

You and Fez had actually gotten married two weeks after his proposal. It felt strange—sitting in the middle of English class as you filled out worksheets and kids snickered amongst themselves in the back—when you glanced down to your wedding ring, knowing you were now someone’s wife.

And you’d never felt happier.

A little over a month before graduation, you found out you were pregnant. And when you told Fez, presenting him with a custom-made t-shirt which said ‘Best Dad on the West Coast’, he’d cried, pressing kiss after kiss to your stomach, promising he would be the best father he could be.

You’d given Ash a similar gift, but instead of ‘dad’, it had said ‘brother’—since you considered him a sort of surrogate son—and he’d taken the t-shirt, nodding his head, his brows furrowed, and had excused himself after muttering ‘thanks’, and you knew it was so he could go cry in private.

When you graduated, the two of them, even Faye and Custer, had been in the crowd and they’d screamed…unbelievably loud as you walked the stage. You’d smiled so wide it made your cheeks hurt and all five of you had taken at least a hundred pictures after.

And then you’d all gone to dinner, Faye and Custer giving you a graduation gift, which had actually been a cute onesie for the baby, which said ‘mommy’s girl, daddy’s world’ on the front, causing tears to gush from your eyes, which you then blamed on the hormones.

You’d then all gone bowling and Custer had somehow managed to kick everyone’s asses, with Ash coming in as a close second. Faye had just wanted to play with the bumpers up, so you all had played another game while the guys watched—Custer and Fez drinking and joking while Ash complained that the bumpers defeated the whole purpose of the game (even if he did play with you all)—and Faye had won.

Ash had blamed it all on the bumpers, claiming they’d ‘thrown off his game’.

When you returned home, you’d been exhausted. You and Fez had taken a bath together and when you lied down in bed, he’d rubbed your feet until you fell asleep, clutching a small teddy bear to your chest.

You’d been sleeping with the toy off and on, insisting you wanted it to have your scent for when the baby finally came, so she’d have it to sleep with in her bassinet beside the bed.

Shortly before the baby was born, Fez had gotten himself out of dealing—which hadn’t been an easy feat, to put it lightly—and had then sold the store, which had earned you all enough for him to put a down payment on a house outside of East Highland.

The move had been a pain while pregnant. Not because you had helped, but because Fez, Ash, Faye, and Custer had all refused to let you so much as lift a single box.

You told yourself, as you sipped on lemonade and watched them carry box after box down to the U-Haul Fez had rented, that now was the time to enjoy being given time off. Because once the baby arrived, you wouldn’t be getting such a break for the next eighteen years.

And you couldn't wait.

Fez had gotten himself a job in a small mechanic shop, which he quickly worked up to being partner of after the older gentleman who owed it took a shine to him and his odd, if not endearing little family.

You’d watched, once the four of you were officially moved into your new home, as Ash and Fez worked on putting together furniture in the nursery, your hand resting over your pregnant belly as you stood in the doorway as they put together your daughter’s crib.

You’d then gone to check on Fez’s grandma. And while she, as ever, never spoke, you told her everything, the same as you always had, to ensure she was always involved in your lives.

And only a few weeks later, she had passed silently in her sleep. And while Fez and Ash had been distraught, you somehow felt like you knew she was at-peace. Like she’d been holding on long enough until you all had made it to finally let go.

You’d held Fez in bed, night after night, his cheek pressed against your belly as he cried, talking about how much he missed her, or just telling wild stories of her younger days to both you and your little one.

And in time, his and Ash’s grief turned to fond remembrance. They had both just hoped that Marie would hold on long enough to meet her granddaughter, but you promised they would one day meet anyway. And they did when you would go visit her at the cemetery.

When your little girl was born, she was loved and adored by everyone.

Faye and Custer became like a surrogate aunt and uncle. Ash was…an absolutely awesome older brother; you could tell much of how he treated being a brother came from all Fez had taught him. And Fez…well, you had to settle for only having half of his heart now. But the same went for him with yours.

And those two halves made a whole, just as they were always meant to. A whole, which belonged to your daughter and her alone.

When Hank, the owner of the auto shop, was ready to finally retire, Fez had panicked. He had a wife and baby girl to look after now—the two of you had decided that you should stay home and take care of your daughter instead of work (Fez was honestly just really old-fashioned at heart and wanted to provide for the both of you)—but his fears were quickly squashed when Hank signed the shop over to him.

He’d told Fez he’d become like a son to him, while your daughter had become the grandchild he’d never gotten to have. He wanted to make sure he did this one thing right—ensuring you all were well taken care of.

You had been inconsolable, you were so grateful when the two of them told you.

He ensured you that you all were doing him a favor, really. He’d put his life’s work into that shop, and now he knew it wouldn’t be torn down and replaced with some “nonsense hipster smoking joint”, as he’d put it. He knew Fez would look after it well.

And he did.

Fez hired Custer on, who’d also recently gotten himself and Faye moved into an apartment closer to the both of you—he no longer dealing and while it’d taken a lot of effort, Faye had gotten herself clean—and once Ash was older, he became his assistant manager.

He even taught your daughter, Carrie, a bit about cars as she grew older. Every now and again, someone from East Highland stopped in to have their car serviced, but you thankfully never saw Nate Jacobs again. You never bothered looking into what happened to the troubled young man; you didn’t really care.

When Hank passed, it hit Fez really hard. One night, after taking a bath, you’d found him in Carrie’s room, holding her as he cried silently. So you’d set down on the bed beside them and wrapped the both of them in your arms and cried with him and told him how much he had meant to him. That he would be honoring his memory as the new owner of the auto shop.

He tried to visit Hank’s grave weekly, and you did when you were able, always bringing fresh flowers, which you grew in your backyard with your daughter.

Eventually, Custer and Faye married as well, you serving as Faye’s maid-of-honor, and Fez as Custer’s best man at their wedding, which had had one hell of a reception afterward. Fez and you hadn’t gotten drunk like that since you were teenagers. Which had consequently resulted in another unexpected gift, which the two of you had decided to name Hank.

Ash eventually met a girl, and as you watched the two of them, you realized how much they reminded you of you and Fez when you were their age. It was a bit…unnerving, at times. But you knew they were just right for one another with that simple observation alone.

As the years went on, your family only grew. Custer and Faye eventually having a son of their own, Ash and his girlfriend getting married, your daughter growing up and one day meeting a girl, which she fell in love with. And your son finding himself an outgoing woman who always kept him on his toes.

And one day, you looked up, and that broken home where your father had ruled with fists was so far away, you could no longer see it.

All you could was the love right in front of you.

It’d taken unspeakable violence and struggle to get here, but you had made it.

All of you.

[bumblesimagines]

"I see you've found a new source of entertainment. Trying to replace me?"

- Maddy Perez

"I see you've found a new source of entertainment. Trying to replace me?"

pronoun: they/them, gender neutral

The party raged on, filling the house with drunk teenagers who grinded on each other in the middle of the livingroom. You caught sight of the poor host scrambling to get someone off the pool table and chuckled into your red solo cup, turning your attention back onto the pretty bleached blonde beside you. She sported a varsity jacket belonging to East Highland's rival school, not that you gave much of a damn.

All you wanted was a drink, a good lay, and a ride home. But before you could continue your conversation with her, a sweet voice laced with venom intervened.

"I see you've found a new source of entertainment." Maddy appeared at your side, shooting the girl an icy glare that sent her skittering in the other direction. With a satisfied smirk, she took the girl's place. "Trying to replace me?"

"Madeleine." You greeted through gritted teeth, setting the cup down and looking over the short cheerleader. She grinned and cocked her head, her hoop earrings swinging around with her movements. "You know I only have eyes for you, pumpkin."

"Mhm, yeah, sure you do." Maddy's grin briefly shifted into a genuine smile before she caught herself. It'd always been a cat and mouse game between you and Maddy. Despite what she said, she often did the chasing, even throughout her relationship with Nate Jacobs. It'd started early on in freshman year when she realized you neither feared nor wanted her for yourself.

"Awe, come on, pumpkin." You cooed and reached out, twirling a strand of her raven hair around your finger.

"You only have eyes for me but you were flirting with that hot mess." Maddy spared a glance over her shoulder, keen eyes searching for the girl. But it seemed she'd had the common sense to get far from you and Maddy.

You clicked your tongue and grinned. "Do my ears deceive me or is the Madeleine Perez actually jealous?"

"Oh, please." Maddy rolled her eyes and scoffed, but her cheeks undeniably burned hot. You smirked and hummed quietly, dropping your hand.

"Since you're not jealous, I guess that means you wouldn't mind if I went over to Jules right now-"

"I do mind because we're going dancing right now." Maddy huffed and took your wrist into her hand, pulling you toward the dancefloor and ignoring your amused laughter.

[leighbaylee]

— HOUSE OF BALLOONS

written by mina leigh 𝜗᭪ , elliot fike 𝔁 m! reader | wc 2750

summary. you’re over at elliot’s house, alone without your sister & jules. he explains the complicated situation between the trio and as you vent out your pent up frustration about the revelation, elliot comes up with a way to calm you down, not that you were imposed.

labels. bennett reader, elliot’s kinda horny, he also gets touchy, mentions of reader nicotine smoking, angry makeouts, praising, hair pulling from both parties, angst, dubcon. VIEWERS DISCRETION ADVISED.

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. i just needed to write something with elliot & male reader after remembering elliot admitted he fucked ❝ 4 to 3 ❞ guys when jules was interrogating him

you were in elliot’s bed, staring up at the ceiling, fingers fumbling with the buckle on your belt as elliot leaned back, reaching for your vape. the room was dimly lit, curtains drawn tight, suffocating any light that dared creep in. there was a weird tension between the two of you — not new, not entirely unfamiliar, but more pronounced now that it was just the two of you. no jules. no rue. just the silence, punctuated by the quiet hiss of the vape and the soft hum of a playlist neither of you really cared about.

elliot took a drag, his lips pressing against the cool metal, and exhaled slowly. the faint scent of nicotine and something sweeter hung in the air. he glanced at you, as you were still fidgeting with your belt but not really looking at him. elliot ran his tongue over his lower lip, hesitating for a moment before finally breaking the silence.

❝ hey, uh ... can i tell you something? but you gotta promise not to get mad alright? ❞ his voice was calm, lazy, but there was an undercurrent of something more. guilt, maybe.

you paused, your hands stilling on the belt, eyebrows knitting together. ❝ depends on what it is.? ❞

elliot took another drag, stalling. ❝ it's about rue.? ❞

the room seemed to grow colder instantly. your grip on the belt tightened instantly.

❝ what about rue? ❞

elliot sighed, sitting up straighter, letting the vape roll between his fingers. ❝ me, rue, and jules ... it's ... complicated. ❞ he glanced at you, observing your reaction, then pressed on. ❝ i mean, we've all kind of been messing around, you know? it's not exactly a secret.? ❞

you sat up too, your body suddenly tense, reaching into your pocket for your own vape. placing it on your lips, taking a long dab before exhaling sharply. ❝ what the fuck are you talking about, elliot? ❞ your voice was strained, irritation bubbling just under the surface.

elliot bit his lip, trying to figure out how to phrase it without making things worse.

❝ look, man, rue's your sister, i know that, but she's... she's been in a weird place, and jules — ❞

❝ jules? ❞ you cut him off, voice rising ❝ what the fuck does jules have to do with this? ❞

elliot looked away for a second, rubbing the back of his neck. ❝ it's not like ... like we planned it or anything. shit just happened. but ... they've been together, kinda ... and i've been there too.? ❞

you coughed, choking on nic, eyes wide with disbelief, ❝ are you fucking serious right now?? ❞

elliot leaned back, avoiding your gaze. ❝ i didn't mean for you to find out like this.? ❞

you then felt a surge of anger rush through you, your heart pounding in your chest as you reached out and grabbed elliot by the collar of his sweater, yanking him forward.

�� so what, you just ... what the fuck, elliot? ❞

elliot didn't resist, didn't pull back. in fact, a slow, almost smug smirk spread across his lips. it was the kind of smirk that made your blood boil even more. elliot's eyes darkened, and he tilted his head, his voice low and teasing. ❝ you mad at me, y/n? ❞

you grit your teeth, pushing elliot back onto the bed. but elliot's smirk didn't fade. instead, it grew, like he'd just come up with the most brilliant idea. before you could even process what was happening, elliot surged forward, crashing your lips together in a heated, messy kiss. tasting strawberry ice gelato melting in your mouth.

for a second, you froze, caught off guard by the suddenness of it. but then, something snapped inside you, and you kissed elliot back with a fury that surprised even himself. elliot wasted no time, using the momentum to flip you both over so he was straddling your hips. his hands were everywhere — running up your sides, tangling in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

❝ fuck, ❞ you muttered against elliot's lips, your hands trailing finding their way under elliot's shirt, feeling the warm skin beneath. your mind was racing, anger and confusion mixing with something else, something you didn't want to name.

elliot's hands moved lower, toying with your belt buckle like it was some kind of game, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made you shiver. ❝ you're so tense, ❞ elliot whispered, his breath hot against your ear. ❝ you need to relax. ❞

you responded with a low growl, your hands gripping elliot's hips, pulling him down harder against you. the kiss grew more frantic, more desperate, and before you knew it, your fingers were tangling in elliot's hair, tugging hard enough to make elliot gasp into his mouth.

❝ you think you can fuck with my head like that and get away with it?? ❞ you muttered, your voice rough and low. elliot's smirk returned, but this time it was more breathless, more eager.

❝ is that what you think i'm doing? ❞ elliot's voice was teasing, but there was a challenge in his eyes.

you didn't bother answering. instead, you tugged elliot's hair again, harder this time, earning a low moan from him. you felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the sound, the power shifting between you, and for a moment, everything else seemed to disappear. the anger, the confusion, the betrayal - it all faded into the background as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment.

elliot's fingers fumbled with your belt buckle again, teasing, but you weren’t in the mood for games. you flipped him over once more, pinning elliot beneath you, your hands gripping the sides of elliot's face as you kissed him fiercely. you didn't feel the need to care about being careful or gentle — you just needed to feel something, anything, to drown out the whirlwind of emotions in his chest.

elliot's hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, and for a while, it was just you both. no words, no thoughts, just the raw, messy collision of your bodies and mostly your anger.

but then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. you pulled back almost forcefully, your chest heaving, your mind catching up with what had just happened. you stared down at elliot, who was lying beneath you, his lips swollen, his hair a mess from where you had pulled at it.

❝ fuck, ❞ you muttered, scrambling off the bed and running a hand through your own hair. what the hell had you just fucking done?

elliot sat up slowly, watching you with a curious, almost amused expression. ❝ you alright dude.? ❞

❝ no, i'm not fucking alright, ❞ you snapped, grabbing your jacket from the floor and shoving your vapes back in your front pockets, with trembling hands. ❝ i gotta get out of here.❞

before elliot could say anything else, you were already out the door, the sound of it slamming shut echoing in the empty house.

you didn't stop walking until you were outside, the cool night air hitting your face as you leaned against the side of the building, trying to steady your breathing. biting your now swollen lips almost making them bleed. still smelling elliot’s god damn attractive scent lingering around you. it was just so unfortunately intoxicating.

© MINA LEIGH 2023 - 2024