#hc — jacob

[oneturiankindofwoman]

no one asked for this but here is my headcanon for how tall mass effect characters are

some of these are based on semi-canon info, like Mordin's 1/4 scale model translating to being 6'10" at full scale, but mostly it's just based off Vibes™️

[etherealily]

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

My other Nate fics. If you have the time.

No one seemed to like the cliffhanger, so here's a draft that I converted into a bonus chapter.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. NSFW. Drugs. Contains brief explicit content. MDNI for this part alone. Closest thing to sm*t I've ever written (and will write).

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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"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?

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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."

[nitttstdsdtoastd]

jack is the type of guy to say “gay” as a joke to classic literature when david’s reading an excerpt to him only to accidentally trigger a rant about gay subtext from david

[kyrithenerd]

Jasper Hale headcanons!!

He's definitely overprotective

Doesn't let you out of his sight

Constantly asking if you're okay or not

If he senses someone being jealous of your relationship with him he's a little prideful

Calls you "darlin' " or "honey" 24/7

If you're human he definitely had problems adjusting to you at first, being afraid of hurting you.

There was one time he accidentally bit you and he still hates himself for it

Turns you into a vampire as soon as possible bc he doesn't believe in the soul thing Edward does.

Read out loud for you constantly.

Even if he doesn't sleep he holds you close all night playing with your hair

If you're a werewolf, he doesn't mind. He gets used to the smell quickly, and tries getting along with your pack.

He's an absolute gentleman obviously

Calls you his "southern belle" (or wherever you're from)

He has a HUGE vinyl collection.

Definitely takes you on motorcycle rides around the forest, showing you all of these cool spots around the city.

He reads classics!! Im sure his favorite is Oscar Wilde or Jane Austen

He thought he was a hopeless romantic until he met you

Writes love letters to you every chance be gets.

He has money so he spoils you a lot even if you tell him not to, flowers, jewelery, trips, the whole nine yards.

Also he doesn't forget about handmade gifts, loves doing origami for you.

If you're an artist he loves painting and drawing dates with you.

Tells you old stories from when he was in the military, or about the trips he took to Victorian / early 1900s of Europe

He knows flower language and arranges the bouquets he gives you accordingly even if you don't know what it means.

"Hey y/n did you know that...?"

Talks shit with you, total homegirl.

When Rosalie first learned that you guys are a thing she acted all "you're not good enough for my brother" but she definitely took a liking in you

Jasper definitely tells you if your friends have ill feelings about you

Total teddy bear, he's all for you

"you saved me, you know.."

that's for today<3

[ken-doll-roy]

Concept:

Interview with the Vampire (2022-) but they're all muppets except for Daniel Molloy.

Discuss...

[aniharas]

𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥!𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘹 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘩.𝘤.'𝘴 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦)

pairing: obsessed!down bad!felix catton x fem!reader

summary: felix's lack of control over his deep feelings for you, his revisions partner, begins to spiral him into a sick and twisted sense of keeping you as his.

warnings: explicit language, sexual tension & content, themes of purity and corruption, use of cigarettes and alcohol

wc: 2.1k+

Maybe Felix Catton wasn’t the mindless pretty boy at Oxford like everyone had chalked him up to be. Maybe he was, at least until he saw you.

At first, he wasn’t exactly the most excited when he found out his revisions partner was you, a scholarship girl. A first-class student. Always buried in textbooks nonstop, always holed up with nerdy little books doing your nerdy little homework. He never found people like you any fun, so he braced himself for a snoozefest as you plopped down into the armchair beside him.

But Felix couldn’t have ever been more wrong about the pureness that was you. Sickly sweet, serene you. Skin tantalizingly covered by whatever shoddy arrangements Oxfam provided. Black-rimmed glasses with a prescription so high, it made your bambi-like eyes bulge out of your head. Voice so sugary, he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. You were a prude by all means, but you made it look so damn good. God forbid the tutor asked him anything about your essay, it was fuck all in his brain. And god forbid anyone asked him to make sense of what he felt for you.

And so he eagerly showed up to each revision. It started with the simplest of gestures. Holding the door open for you, carrying your books. He noticed you always walked home alone after each session at night, so he took it upon himself to escort you back to your dorm safely. 

And then it was gifts. Things that he could nonchalantly pass off as having extra of. Packaged sweets from the dining hall, an extra No. 2 pencil. He even tried to offer you a cigarette as the two of you strolled across campus. Of course, being the modest girl you were, you refused. He was glad that you did. You were responsible, you were good. He loved that about you.

But it wasn’t enough. Those brief, one-hour sessions were far from enough. Being the workaholic you were, you were hard to find around campus; that bit irked him. The whole “girl” thing was second-nature to him. They came to him in swarms, in fact. Why were you never there? That was fine with him, he liked the chase. He’d find a way.

“Tutor you? Felix, I think you’re doing fine–” “Codswallop, and you know it. You, on the other hand…you’re exceptional.” “I don’t think I’m exactly qualified enough-” “I do.”

And these newfound tutoring sessions were far better than what he had been getting. He never thought he’d look forward to being in a tutorial for hours in a stiff library chair, but the very thought consumed his waking days. Because it was you, dressed in your hand-me-down school jumper, brows adorably furrowed as you hastily scribbled notes across the margins of his essays. He wasn’t exactly the best at writing, but he occasionally found himself misspelling words just to see you get irritated with him. 

“Sometimes it slips my mind that you’re a rich kid. Until I remember we’re at Oxford and this is what you wrote,” you had said one time. Had it been from anyone else, he would’ve blown a fuse. But it was you, who always snuck in bites of your Crunchie between each sentence. You were so genuine, so oblivious to the world around you. He could never be upset with you.

Which is why he felt responsible for you. But how could he protect you when you were so elusive? He considered himself blessed if he found you at King’s Arms on the weekends, or anywhere at all. And blessed he was, on a Friday night, just before Oxford let out for the holidays.

It was you, accompanied by your trashy roommates. “Come on, just once before you go home,” they had whined as they pushed you through the doors. Upon this rare sighting, Felix decided that the story he was entertaining his table with was pointless, ceasing his conversation. It was like he was in a trance, the way he stood from his seat and gravitated toward you. Wordlessly, he plucked you away from your roommates. He figured you were better off with him.

It was clear that you weren’t used to any sort of bar culture, and while he found that endearing, he made sure to look over you. He booted a girl from his group just so he could seat you next to him, all while making sure you didn’t see the nasty glare she gave you. 

Assigning himself as your drink-sitter, he carefully scrutinized whatever you ended up drinking. Any strong liquors that came your way were quickly confiscated, much to Farleigh’s disdain (although he was placated once the extra shots were passed along to him). All you had to your name was a modest mug of beer, which you sipped at tentatively as you tried to make sense of the conversation around you.

You had gotten through one beer, though you were struggling about halfway through your refill. Despite that, Felix was in awe of you. The whining as he took the cup away, the mindlessly giggling at a joke one of the girls told, the fidgeting with the hem of your jumper. How could someone make drinking look so innocent? 

“My face is hot.” “You’ve got a buzz going. It’s quite a look.” “A good one or a bad one?” “A bit of a naughty one.” He quickly earned a punch in the arm from you.

And this was far better than the revisions or the tutoring. To finally discuss something other than academics with you was refreshing. He found himself recounting all of his stories, even the ones he had already told that night, just so he could hear you laugh at everything he said. It was a melody in his ears, a tiny bell jingling beside him.

Once the company began to fall out, Felix took you to get a breath of fresh air just beside the entrance of the pub. “D’you need anyone to take you home?” “Nooo, my roommates are heading back anyways.” “You sure? I can–” “Oh, you’re too kind. Why don’t you have a lover yet?”

The question was so forward and sudden, he couldn’t help but be surprised. You were definitely tipsy.  “Huh…haven’t given much thought to it.” “Well, you should.” “And that means?” “They’d be lucky.”

Felix couldn’t help it; he was out of control, cradling your face into his hands as his heart threatened to leap out of his chest. They were indeed hot, you weren’t lying about that. There was silence, anticipation with a bated breath, and then your lips were all that he felt. If anyone was watching, and they most likely were, it was like he was holding himself back. Jaw tensed, muscles taut, brows scrunched. It almost looked like he was in pain.

And he was in pain, his restraint being tested every second he kissed you. Trying so desperately to not have his way with you, to take you home and screw you into his dorm mattress. That’s not the type of person you were.

But boy, did you make it difficult. The mere act of placing your hands against his chest, pressing your body against his. Again, painfully obvious this wasn’t something you did often, but that made it all the more perfect to him. He intended to keep you that way, which is why he let go.

The confusion that overtook your features made him regret his decision more and more, twisting his insides with guilt for leaving you hanging. Your lips, donning a soft shine, mouthed his name, but any sound went fuzzy in his ears. The more he stared at them, the more that forbidden feeling stirred inside of him.

Mumbling an apology, he abruptly stepped back, not even sure of what he was even doing. He had to get away, head home. It was ironic, to long for you so deeply but to hold himself back from indulging in you. He was never one to shy away from what he desired; it was his very nature, his reputation. But he couldn’t just use a girl like you to scratch one of his sexual itches, how could he bring himself to?

And so, Felix turned his back on you, not uttering another word. He pushed through the crowded walkway in a blind frenzy, ignoring the people who tried to strike up conversation. Never once looking back. 

Soon enough, he heaved the grand doors open to his hall, ready to sleep off the feeling until a sultry voice called to him from his right. Annabel. Apparently she had been waiting for him.

It wasn’t long before she was straddled across his lap, basically eating away at the lower half of his face as she eagerly fumbled with his belt buckle. That’s what turned him off about her. Too eager, too annoying. It played a part as to why he had kept his distance from her, but for that night, she was better than nothing.

As she slipped off his lap to kneel on the messy floor of his dorm, his mind drifted elsewhere. The desperate girl in front of him disappeared, then you were there, just as he left you. Staring up at him behind your obnoxious glasses, your bottom lip trembling. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Would you even know how to do this sort of thing? 

If he allowed himself, he’d guide you, gripping a part of your hair. Not tight enough to hurt you, of course, just enough to get leverage. He’d watch as your pretty lips parted to take him in, taking your sweet time. Your mouth would be soft and hot, your tongue shifting about awkwardly underneath him. He bet that you’d have it down quickly; you were good at most things, being a quick learner. Perhaps there would be a few scrapes from your canines as you bobbed up and down, if he were to be realistic. But the sting was more than alright with him.

Felix always prided in himself for his ability to give a girl a good, long time. Why else would they flock to him by the dozens? So what was so different about you that made him feel like he was already about to burst the seams?

Because it was still you, sickly sweet and serene you, lips wrapped around him and devouring him like the candy you always loved. Your eyes would water, but he’d gladly wipe away each drop that managed to escape. It left him a whiny mess. Sweat prickling at his forehead, ragged breaths heaving his shoulders up and down, white-knuckling your hair.

And when he’d come close, he’d let you know. You didn’t like being caught off-guard. Your heavy disdain for pop-quizzes or his endless pranks of sneaking up behind you made that apparent. But he prided himself in knowing these things about you, that he was able to gather it all from your little ramblings. 

You liked American reality TV. Disliked gel pens. Loved your chips overdone. A ridiculous query crossed his mind. Would you like spitting or swallowing? Or would you rather it all over you? From how your lips were glued to him, it seemed like swallowing. But that made him hesitate. You would never like such a thing. You were squeamish around anything sticky or slimy. Cough syrup, oily or tacky lotions…you hated them. As much as it dismayed him, why would this be any different?

Because it wasn’t you. And as soon as the girl he had taken back to his dorm reappeared, he knew that she could never be you. Nobody could. He was disgusted with himself for dirtying that memory of you. He had turned something so innocent into something so grossly erotic, and he knew he had crossed a line. How could he ever see you the same way again?

He was also disgusted with how Annabel seemed to not care despite his disillusion. She might have been the only girl he had seen that got off on merely sucking someone off. It was genuinely pathetic. Her head was swiftly yanked up, her lips making a “pop” sound.

“Alright, get out.” “What? But we’ve barely done anything, Fe–” “I don’t fuckin’ care. Piss the fuck off!”

Felix thought he would feel bad about kicking Annabel out, especially after she left in tears with her clothes haphazardly buttoned. But he could genuinely not have cared in the slightest; he was already preoccupied, mind filled with guilt after what he had done to you. But did he feel regret? No. That’s what ate at him the most. Someone like him shouldn’t have gone for someone like you. 

Perhaps it was better to try and forget that he kissed you. Kissing you meant opening the floodgates of his feelings, his debauchery. He had to keep that closed so that you could stay as pure as you always were. His perfect girl.

And he would do anything to keep you that way.

to be continued!

a/n: dutifully fulfilling this request by my lovely anon. i wanted to delve more into the selfish, savior complex that he was and i DEFINITELY intend to take it deeper for the next part. again, thank you for the ask! co-written by @hellb4ts! leon, thank you for the many wonderful ideas. and you're welcome for introducing you to saltburn &lt;3 inbox is open for any asks or reqs !

masterlist

put yourself on my taglist here!

@vannyangelxoxo @lilyrachelcassidy

[bambieyedoll]

⋆·˚ ༘ * JACOB BLACK HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 being in a relationship with jacob

the moment jacob imprinted on you, it hit him like a collision.

one second he was walking through the woods. the next, your laugh cracked through the trees and he froze. the world tunneled. everything else faded.

and you, you, suddenly became the center of his universe.

for days after, he couldn’t stop staring at you.

not in a creepy way, but in the i-don’t-know-how-i-ever-lived-without-you kind of way. the pack teased him mercilessly for it.

“jake, dude. seriously, you’re smiling at your phone like she’s gonna text by telepathy.”

“shut up, paul.”

jacob was terrified to tell you about the imprint at first. not because he didn’t want it. god, he wanted you. but because he didn’t want you to feel pressured.

“you’ve got a choice,” he said, quietly, eyes locked on yours. “even if the universe picked you for me… you still get to pick me, too.”

when you finally admitted you felt it too. that inexplicable pull, that comfort in his presence, the way his arms felt more like home than your own bed, he physically exhaled in relief. then pulled you into the tightest hug you’d ever felt.

jacob is fiercely protective of you. not possessive, but primal. the moment anyone makes you uncomfortable, he’s beside you in a blink, tall and broad and unreadable.

“everything okay?”

just those two words. calm, low, and absolutely threatening.

his wolf instincts are always on when it comes to you. you could be across the field at a bonfire, talking to someone else, and he still notices the way your shoulders tense or your fingers fidget.

he’s always watching, always tuned in to your energy.

you calm his wolf better than anything else. when he phases back after a bad patrol, he finds you. buries his face in your neck. breathes you in.

“you keep me human,” he whispers once. “don’t even know if you realize it.”

physical affection is nonstop.

jacob is a furnace and he’s always wrapping around you. laying his head in your lap, pulling you into his hoodie, holding your hand under the table like he needs the anchor.

and when you’re not around, he wears your scent like armor.

the first time you get sick or hurt? jacob panics.

he’s at your side in seconds, flustered, pacing, asking if you need anything, until you tug on his shirt and say, “just stay.”

so he does. he stays until you fall asleep. and then longer.

imprint fights hit differently.

not because you argue often, but because when you do, it hurts. like a soul-level tear. he can feel your pain, and it drives him mad.

he’ll give you space if you ask, but he paces, restless, desperate to fix it.

“i hate when we’re like this. i can’t��� breathe right without you.”

the bond gives jacob this uncanny ability to know what you need before you do.

he shows up with your favorite snacks after a long day. hands you his hoodie when you’re just starting to feel cold. pulls you into his chest the second your anxiety spikes, even if you haven’t said a word.

he’s so gentle with you. for someone who’s built of muscle and heat and power, he holds you like you’re made of light.

jacob kisses your temple like a promise. runs his thumb along your jaw when you’re tired, like he’s reminding himself you’re real.

sometimes you wake up and find him staring at you, eyes warm, voice still raspy from sleep:

“how’d i get so lucky?”

and when you say you love him. genuinely, freely, not because of the imprint but because you chose him, he breaks. full-body stillness, eyes wet, voice cracking.

“you mean that? you really… love me? because, god, i’ve loved you for so long, i don’t know how to be without you anymore.”

jacob black is so touchy once you’re together.

he always has a hand on you, wrapped around your waist, fingers laced with yours, a casual arm draped over your shoulders, even when you’re just standing in line somewhere.

it’s instinctive. protective. warm. grounding.

he calls you “babe” most of the time, but sometimes, when he’s sleepy or worried, he murmurs “sweetheart” under his breath like he doesn’t even realize it’s slipped out.

he builds you things. shelves, little wooden carvings, a custom seat for the back of his bike. he never says it outright, but he wants to leave his mark in your space. proof that he’s there, and not going anywhere.

you always know when something’s wrong because jacob shuts down. his jaw clenches. he gets quiet. he’ll go on a run to clear his head, but when he comes back, he always wraps you in the tightest hug, like he needs to feel you breathe just to calm down.

you once told him, half-jokingly, that you liked wolves. now he brings you random little wolf trinkets and says things like “thought you’d want something that looked like me,” with a cocky smirk and that damn dimple.

the first time he got really hurt on patrol, he tried to hide it. didn’t want you to worry. you found out anyway and lost it on him, tears in your eyes. he was stunned into silence.

the next day, he showed up with a small first-aid kit and asked if you could keep it “just in case.” he never hides injuries again.

jealous jacob is very real.

even if someone just looks at you the wrong way, his entire body tenses. you’ll grab his hand and squeeze it to ground him, whispering, “you’ve got nothing to worry about, jake.” he just kisses your knuckles and glares at the guy over your shoulder anyway.

the pack knows not to make any comments about you around him.

once, paul made a teasing joke, and jacob had him pinned to a tree in seconds. “say something like that again, and i’ll send you to the fucking hospital.”

he loves when you sit in his lap. like… loves it.

especially when you’re both hanging with the pack and you settle there without thinking. he gets all smug and wraps his arms around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

he’s surprisingly insecure at times. not because of you, but because he worries he’s too much. too intense, too broken, too wrapped up in the world he didn’t choose.

you always make him look at you when he spirals, pressing your hand to his chest and saying, “you’re more than enough. and you’re mine.”

jacob leaves your favorite snacks in your bag or car when he knows he’ll be gone for patrol. they’re always labeled in sharpie:

“for my girl. don’t forget to eat.”

“miss you already :(.”

“my pretty girl, i love you.”

jacob is so softly obsessed with you. the way you talk with your hands. how you hum while brushing your teeth. the little crease in your brow when you read. he memorizes it all.

sometimes, when you’re sleeping, he stays up just watching you. he brushes your hair back, traces the curve of your cheek with his finger, and whispers, “you don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

when you say “i love you” out of nowhere, he melts. no matter how many times you say it, it still stuns him.

“again,” he whispers. “please, say it again.”

[imagobin]

📸Jacob with an anti-social MC HCs📸

First time writing Jacob HCs let's goooo! Hopefully there will be more to come ❤️ I tried imagining how he would deal with an MC who suffers from social anxiety and struggles going outside... couldn't be me lol This is actually all fluffy cute stuff

Online Dating?!

Finding someone:

You've always been absolutely terrible at interacting with people in real life. You stutter, you can't get your words out fast enough, so people are convinced you just can't explain yourself... which is why writing online is a million times better.

That's ironically how you first ran into Jacob. You happened to see some of his photography on FriendSpace, left a like and a nice comment, and before you knew it, you two were following each other on social media, mutually liking each other's posts.

Out of the two, he was definitely the braver. He slid into your DMs.

He was extremely polite to you, quite different from the interactions you'd get from other men online. He not only seemed genuinely interested in you, but he had a way of remembering every small thing you told him that was... really endearing.

There might've been instances where he knew something about you that you were... quite sure you never told him before, but you just chalked it up to you probably mentioning it in one of your posts instead.

Eventually, you both ended up developing feelings for each other, and he began encouraging you to actually meet up with him in real life one day, just a small, chill date.

You were nervous of course, you probably hadn't left your house to see anyone in months, but you felt like things might've been okay since it was Jacob. He hadn't given you any reason not to trust him.

Your first IRL meeting:

You ended up finding out you live relatively close to each other, so you chose to meet at a quiet cafe in Rockford.

You were absolutely feeling on edge. It had been so long since you had a date! You knew what he looked like from the selfies he'd share occasionally, but that didn't make you any less antsy.

When you entered the cafe and he spotted you, his eyes basically lit up behind his glasses. He got up from his seat to greet you, but seemed just as awkward and hesitant as you were, to do anything beyond placing a hand on your shoulder and pulling the chair out for you, so you could sit at the table.

Oddly enough, him being a little nervous as well comforted you. You knew this would happen, the switch from online chatting to IRL wasn't always easy to deal with.

Things warmed up through the date though. Jacob was actually pretty good at breaking the ice, by getting you to info-dump about your interests.

He seemed to hang onto every word you said, no matter how much you stuttered or repeated yourself while trying to make sense of what you were trying to convey.

He engaged in the conversation, asking you questions, showing actual interest, which made you even more comfortable.

You two actually ended up prolonging the date, taking a walk around the park, where you just let Jacob take the lead in the conversation. Before you knew it, he was yapping about old movies while gently holding your hand.

His expression looked so bright as he talked about his interests, that you couldn't bring yourself to interrupt him.

This just got real

Please trust me:

After that date, many more followed, though since neither of you were much for going to crowded places, most of them were movie nights at his or your place.

It was nice, it was cozy... Jacob was an extremely comfortable pillow to lay against while watching forgotten horror films (or any other genre you might like)

Despite you having a very small amount of friends, that didn't stop Jacob from being wary of all of them.

He doesn't keep you from talking to them, but during the first months of your relationship, he'll often demand to see your texts with them, even if you don't have anything to hide.

On the rare occasion in which you meet up with your friends, he'll also want to tag along, make sure everyone knows you're his partner, and that nobody gets too touchy with you... he loves you a lot, can you blame him?

Things do get better the longer you stay together. He learns to trust you fully, and warms up to your friends. He won't even ask you who you were talking to on the phone anymore! But... when you're in public spaces, it's a whole other story.

He doesn't trust strangers one bit, nope, not even at the grocery store.

Jacob is grateful you put up with this. He's somewhat aware it can be overwhelming to deal with, so he's glad his anxiety and possessiveness isn't damaging the relationship.

Helping you:

He's a very attentive man, still, and that won't diminish, no matter how long you're together! So he's obviously noticed how you struggle with going outside, sometimes even for important stuff, like fetching food for yourself, or doctor's appointments.

Despite all his paranoia and jealousy, he also still wants to be the best boyfriend he can be for you. After all, if he's not, you might leave him! And you really shouldn't do that.

Jacob always sets reminders for you so you don't forget to show up to the doctor's or the dentist... heck, he'll even take you there himself if it's a particularly low motivation day!

Whenever you're out shopping together, if there's a lot of people and it gets overwhelming for you, you can bet he'll try to find a less crowded area where you can catch your breath.

He may enjoy staying at home as well, but he's got a few outdoors hobbies that he always uses as an excuse to take you out of the house and get some sun!

He takes you out fishing and uses this opportunity to also take a bunch of pictures of you to add to your couple scrapbook.

You, holding a fishing rod. You, wearing his bucket hat. You, with your first catch! So exciting! He tries to make things fun for you... He's aware fishing is a hobby that requires a lot of patience, but he genuinely hopes his company and fun facts about fish are entertaining enough...

His end goal definitely isn't to get you just as much into fishing as he is... absolutely not, how could you think that?

---

[springthecowboy]

idk i just wanted to draw the 4 npcs

[etherealily]

ᴘᴇᴛᴛʏ // ɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴊᴀᴄᴏʙꜱ

My other Nate fics. If you have the time.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Right, probably there."

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

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

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

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

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

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

A fucking hickey?! Was he a fucking dumbass?

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

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

With his luck, it'd be Maddy.

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

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

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

"You know her?"

"Small town."

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

"No."

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

"How far is your house from the party?"

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

Huh.

"Why?"

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

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

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

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

"So did I. Scary."

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

"Come where?"

He raised a brow.

"Oh. Uh—"

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

Beg to differ.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is that a hickey?"

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

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

"Why didn't you call me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What if your mother drug-tests you?"

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

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

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

"Who the fuck is Ali?"

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

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

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

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

Fuck this night.

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

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

You followed him, as well. Actually great.

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

He scoffed, practically throwing his phone on the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And hence.

Hey.

??

Nate from Christmas Eve.

Oh, hi.

Mall 2morrow? U + me?

Idk. Idk u that well.

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

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

Idk man.

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

For what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, you are."

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll see you around, Nate."

A scoff. A very publicly inappropriate kiss.

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

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

TWO DAYS LATER.

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

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

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

"Fucking prick."

"What? Who?"

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

"Who is he?"

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

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

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

"What's the difference?"

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

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

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

You froze, and you were pretty sure he smirked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

"He fucking what?!"

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

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

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

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

"He catfished my friend."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Violent.", you remarked.

"Yeah, he is."

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

TWO DAYS LATER.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like... five hours."

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

She continues giggling.

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

"Hello?"

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

"Uh, is everything o—"

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

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

"Thanks."

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

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

"What? I do care, Rue!"

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

You glare at her. Oh, fuck her.

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

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

Silence.

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

"You're such a baby!"

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

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

"Thank you."

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

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

Nate.

🔗?

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

Evil, and petty.

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

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

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

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

A follow-up ding.

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

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

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

Yo

Pick up

It's about Rue

Unknown number.

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

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

A phone call almost instantaneously.

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

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

"Is she okay?"

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

"Alright, can you text me the address?"

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

"Yeah, I know. Thank you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course he is."

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

30th of December.

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, fuck off."

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

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

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

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

"You don't wanna cause a rift."

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

"Not what?"

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

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

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

"Good choice."

A pause.

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

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

"What?"

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

"You didn't strangle your girlfriend?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's all bullshit?"

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

"She what?!"

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

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

Rage consumes you. Fuck Train-Girl.

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

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

"What did Fezco say about me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses your cheek and takes a photo.

"Yeah, but— hey, whoa."

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

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

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

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

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

"You're an asshole."

"Date me anyway."

"Are you crazy?"

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

You snort. "You're a trip."

"Is that a yes?"

"No, fuck you."

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

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not gonna—"

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

"Favourite and only."

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

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

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

Okay, yeah, that tracks. You nod.

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

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

"NO! What the FUCK?!"

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

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

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

How were you gonna look her in the eye again?

[frwalkwithme]

@jedijenkins got me back into the librarians mindset so I wanted to draw these two again

[watermel0ns-dumb-cringe]

JACOB RICHMOND. GIVE ME EZRA LAMB CONTENT IN THE THIRD INSTALLMENT OF THE URANIUM TEEN SCREAM TRILOGY. AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

[allisie]

Hi, I love your writing ❤️

could I request something for Nate? like he and the reader are fighting and she gets hurt because he scared her and then he apologize? thank you 🥰

Simply Us

nate jacobs x reader

Euphoria Masterlist

NB // for some reason, when asked to write kinda angst stuff, I almost never follow script.

⚠️ warning ⚠️: Nate being a closer representation of his tv counter part, talk of insecurities, nate choking reader,

"Your fucking him aren't you. You trap me into this picture-perfect relationship and then go open your legs behind my back. Huh," Nate whispers into my ear. I had just gotten back from hanging out with Fez all evening at the convenience store.

"Jacobs what the fuck are you talking about," I ask.

"I should have known you're just like her, just repackaged. At least she looked the part of my perfect girl. At least she had the decency to do that much work in the relationship," Nate continued, his voice getting louder. Nate put his hands on the counter in front of me, effectively trapping me as he pushed his body onto mine.

"Why are you saying this? I didn't do shit. What are you talking about? I love you and you alone," you whisper, turning to face him. Placing your water on the counter.

"Did I say shit about love....... and you should be the first to know you don't need love to fuck someone. How can I ever trust you again" Nate moved his hands to my head.

"That's the thing with relationships, nate. You have to trust the other person in the relationship," I reply, my eyes searching his face for any signs of him believing my words.

"And have I ever, tested your trust. Tell me, when have I ever made you question my love for you," He asks, his hands moving to my neck. His eyes stared into mine.

"First month into dating, you still left flowers in Maddy's locker every day. Drove her to school, stayed at her house when you got wasted drunk," I state without a second of hesitation. Nate made me feel second to Maddie early in our relationship, and I would have left if it wasn't for the night he realised that I wouldn't stay if he didn't stop.

"Shut the fuck up," Nate shouts, "That was forever ago."

"Two hundred and seventy-nine days. You have no idea what it feels like being in a relationship with someone who loves someone else, but what else would I expect from THE NATE JACOBS, STAR QUARTERBACK, you will never have to feel how I felt," I shouted back.

"Shut the fuck up, you don't know what your talking about, you don't know me," Nate replied, his grip around my neck tightening.

"But I do, Nate. I have loved you since I was ten. Before Maddy, before you decided to become the buffest guy in the grade, I loved you when no one knew who you were in school. Then it all changed in one summer," I reply softly, my eyes filled with tears and my hands around his wrists.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP! YOU KNOW NOTHING!!" Nate shouts, his face turning red and his grip on my throat increasing.

"THEN TELL ME! OR AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH!! MAYBE I SHOULD GO GET MADDY!" I shout back before reaching up and slapping Nate across his face. Nate grip loosens around my neck as he tales a step back, and I move, putting more distance between us.

"I swear to god, I will kill you," Nate states after regaining his bearings. His eyes locked onto me.

"Do your worse. Just know that I love you until my last breath," I respond, tears falling down my face.

It was a couple of hours before we could look each other in the face. My neck had started to bruise in the shape of Nate's hand, and his face was scratched from my nails. I hid away in his bedroom while he sat in his bathroom. Walking out of his bathroom, Nate sees me sitting on his bed, my clothes exchanged for one of his shirts, and my hair pulled out of my face.

"Your hurt," Nate whispers.

"It doesn't matter, are you okay. Did I hurt you," I respond as I start to get out of bed.

"Yeah, I am fine. Let me take a look at you," Nate states, making his way over to me before I could even put my foot on the ground. He gently moves my head so he can see my bruising neck, "That looks serious. It's starting to bruise badly."

"I'll just cover it up. It's fine. You didn't mean it," I whisper as I wrap my arms around his neck.

"Stop justifying that shit. You should be running from me. Why are you so calm right now?" He asks before I pull him down into a kiss.

"I love you," I whisper again his lips.

"Your fucking crazy, you know that right,"

"Isn't that why you love me tho," I say, pulling him into another kiss.

"I am sorry," Nate whispers.

"I know," I whisper back.

[marygih]

Peculiar Flag

The colors of the flag represent all the books in the peculiarverse. These are the colors of the covers of each book and the symbols that represent each series. The green line in the middle represents the tales, and the museum is included in the black part.

I've been wanting to develop this idea for years, I hope you like it💜

[artisthoi]

MADE IT WITH LIKE 10 MINUTES I TOLD YALL 6 HOURS MAX 🙏🙏🙏hilleddie fans feast please be nice

i havent watch one episode since yesterday so my knowledge remains at like episode 5 season 1 but i can smell faggots

[mw00nie]

The comfort plan - Jake Peralta X fem!reader

♡—————♡—————♡—————♡—————♡—————♡

w.c: 2.9k

summary: After a particularly hard case, Jake finds Y/N crying in the break room and comforts her.

warnings: Fem!Reader, she/her pronouns, hurt/comfort, descriptive lines (brown hair and brown eyes), soft Jake, fluff, etc.

A/N: English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes that may have occurred. Taking on the responsibility of reviving Jake Peralta x Reader posts. :)

♡—————♡—————♡—————♡—————♡—————♡

Jake pushed open the door to the precinct’s break room, hoping to grab a snack before tackling the mountain of paperwork waiting for him. Instead, he froze.

Sitting on the worn-down couch was Y/N, her small frame hunched over, face buried in her hands as quiet sobs shook her shoulders. She was wearing her favorite maroon hoodie and black pants, but they seemed to hang on her figure, making her look even more fragile.

“Y/N?,”Jake’s voice was soft as he stepped closer, his heart tightening at the sight. She didn’t look up, but her hands stilled slightly, acknowledging his presence.

“Y/N?,” he said, crouching in front of her, his usual goofy grin replaced with genuine concern. “Is this about the vending machine eating your dollar again? Because if it is, I swear, I'll go full Die Hard on it.”

Y/N sniffled, a small, broken laugh escaping despite herself. “It’s not that,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Jake tilted his head, studying her tear-stained face as she finally looked up, her big brown eyes shimmering with sadness. “Okay,” he said gently, whatever it is, it must be important. And lucky for you, you’re dating a guy who is both a world-class detective and an expert comfort-giver. So, talk to me.”

She hesitated, and Jake could see the turmoil in her eyes. Finally, she sighed. “It’s the case,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “The girl we were trying to save... I can’t stop thinking about her. We were too late, Jake. We didn’t make it in time.”

Jake’s chest tightened as he processed her words. It had been a brutal case: a young girl kidnapped and held for ransom, with a tragic outcome. He knew how much Y/N had poured into the investigation, spending sleepless nights chasing leads and going over evidence.

“Oh, Y/N,” he whispered, scooting onto the couch next to her and pulling her into his arms.“It’s not your fault. You gave it everything you had. Sometimes... sometimes things just don’t work out, no matter how hard we try.”

She melted into him, her tears soaking through his shirt. “I just... feel like everything’s falling apart,”she admitted, her voice trembling.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Jake said, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye. “We sit here for as long as you need; I grab us some snacks—because crying burns calories—and then we figure out how to kick everything’s butt together. Sounds good?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet you love me,” he quipped, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Seriously though, Y/N. I’ve got you. Always.”

And as she nestled back into his arms, for the first time that day, she believed it

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