#I haven’t even touched on Nathan

[the-krakens-bitch]

I believe that Ted will go back to America for Henry at the end of the season.

This is because Ted has done all that he can, he is no longer the driving force of making the environment better, as the other characters are doing so. We see Rebecca help and comfort Keeley, Jaime becoming a better team member, Trent becoming optimistic, Sam becoming more confident, and Roy taking initiative and helping Isaac. These characters are not the same from season one, they might still harbour some pain and insecurities but they are still growing and becoming better people with the help of Ted. Now Ted is no longer being needed, we see this through his narrative being more removed from other characters and focusing more on Henry. Shown in the most recent episode, Ted is becoming distant with work for Henry’s parent teacher interview, and his “fumbled” speech comparing being gay with an American footy team. Ted has made his input to the club, he helped others to become better and so they can help other people too. I think this is foreshadowed with his favourite Julie Andrews film being “Mary Poppins” that she stayed to help people and spread joy, which is what Ted did. And so Ted “shall [only] stay until the wind changes”, and he changed people to become better versions of himself, so he isn’t needed anymore. This Leads Ted leaving with a positive input to an hostile environment and helping others to become better. Ted is now then allowed to focus on his happiness and his son.

[moonfurthetemmie]

Happy Halloween!

I have no tribute to give, but I did just watch Repo! The Genetic Opera and unfortunately for all the fictional characters that I play with like dolls in my head, I have been given ideas for Gouge

[alwaysmicado]

The Maple Tree

3.1k | Nathan Bateman x reader | one-shot

Nathan Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3

Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, soft!Nathan Summary: You’re having a bad day. Talking to Nathan about it is surprisingly comforting. A/N: I love fall. It’s a season that brings so much beauty, calmness, and memories—memories I don’t mind carrying. But fall also brings days like this: the hard ones, the ones where I feel like I’m drowning. If you’re going through something similar, I want you to know you’re not alone. Take care, and thank you for reading! ♡

You sit outside on the deck, the thick blanket Nathan draped over your shoulders earlier still wrapped tightly around you. The fire bowl flickers weakly, its warmth curling into the cool evening air.

It’s fall—your favorite season.

The trees surrounding the compound are a brilliant display of reds and oranges, vibrant in the dying light of the day. The creek murmurs softly nearby, its steady rhythm the only sound accompanying the whisper of the wind in the leaves.

Everything is serene. Calm.

But none of it feels right today.

It should feel like home, like peace. That’s what fall usually brings you: a sense of grounding, nostalgia that is comforting, not crushing. But today, it’s like everything is out of reach. Like you’re watching it from behind glass.

Your breath feels shallow, like your lungs have forgotten how to work, and your heart—your heart feels heavy, swollen with something you can’t name. It’s like you’re grieving, but there’s no clear loss to mourn. It’s as if you’re fading, slipping out of focus in your own life, and you don’t know how to stop it.

Nathan’s inside. Watching. He always is.

His eyes follow you even when you’re not looking, a silent, constant presence. You don’t have to see him to know he’s there.

Tonight, though, his gaze feels heavier, pressing into you from behind the glass. Waiting. He’s been waiting all day for you to say something, but you haven’t. You can’t. You don’t know how to explain this feeling, this absence inside you. You’ve tried to untangle it, to give it words, but there’s nothing there.

Nothing but the pit in your stomach and the ache in your chest.

You pull the blanket tighter around yourself and stare out into the wilderness, the thick, dense forest that encloses you in this isolated world. It feels suffocating tonight, even though you’ve always loved it here. The crackling fire, the smell of wood smoke, the cool, crisp air—it should be soothing, but instead, it feels like a distant memory. You feel like you’re slipping further away with every second that passes. Like you’re losing grip on something, and you don’t even know what.

The glass door to the living room slides open, and you don’t turn. You hear Nathan’s bare feet pad softly across the deck, the sound muffled by the blanket of leaves scattered around. He doesn’t speak right away, just walks closer, standing behind you. His presence is heavy, like a storm about to break, but it’s also warm, familiar. For a moment, you wonder if he’s going to touch you, lay a hand on your shoulder, your neck, something to break the barrier of space between you. But he doesn’t.

Instead, his voice is low when he finally speaks.

“You’ve been out here for hours.”

You don’t respond. You don’t know how. You just keep staring at the trees, at the way the light fades into the horizon like a slow, quiet death. He waits, and you know he’s giving you space, but it’s not the kind of space you want. You need something more, or maybe less—you’re not sure anymore.

“Feeling any better?” he asks after a moment, looking down at your face with a furrowed brow.

You feel the words like a dull thud in your chest. He doesn’t say it unkindly, but it feels hollow, like he doesn’t understand. And maybe he doesn’t. How could he? Nothing bad happened. Nothing tangible. There’s no reason, no room here for what you’re feeling.

You swallow hard, trying to find words, but they stay stuck in your throat. How do you explain this feeling like you’re drowning when everything around you is quiet, peaceful, beautiful even? How do you explain the way your chest feels like it’s caving in, like you’re untethered, free-floating without direction?

You don’t know how to answer him.

Nathan steps around you, moving to sit down on the chair next to yours. He’s wearing black sweatpants and a thick hoodie, his face illuminated by the flames, casting long shadows across his sharp features. He’s watching you again, those dark, piercing eyes behind a pair of glasses studying you like an equation. It makes you feel uneasy and vulnerable, yet comforted and safe. It’s strange.

He looks away, finally. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head, your fingers clutching at the blanket like it’s your lifeline. Your voice feels distant when you finally manage to speak, hoarse from the hours of silence.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you admit, the words barely a whisper. It’s the truth, and yet it doesn’t make you feel any better to say it. In fact, it makes the emptiness worse, like saying it out loud makes it more real. Plus, sharing your innermost thoughts and feelings is uncomfortable. Scary, even.

You’ve never believed much in baring your soul to others, laying your weaknesses out in the open for someone else to see, to interpret, to judge. Nothing good has ever come from that kind of vulnerability—not for you. So you just…stopped. You learned to keep the messy parts inside, locked up, unshared.

Nathan nods, running a hand over his dark beard, a faint smile on his lips. “That’s okay. I’ll just sit here with you for a bit. You don’t have to say anything.”

There’s a sincerity in his voice that makes your throat tighten.

You want to believe it. You want to believe that he cares, that you’re not just a squeaky wheel he feels compelled to fix, that this thing between you means something to him. But some days—like today—it feels fragile, like it could shatter at any moment. You can feel the distance between you, even as he sits right here, close enough to touch.

You close your eyes, pressing them shut as you feel the sting of tears welling up, catching you off guard. You haven’t had the urge to cry all day; you’ve kept it all in, pushed it down so deep you almost convinced yourself it wasn’t there. But now that Nathan’s here, just sitting beside you, silent and steady, it’s like something inside you has softened, like the walls around you are suddenly brittle, crumbling under the weight of his quiet presence.

You fight it, blinking quickly to chase the tears away, determined not to let them spill over. You don’t want to cry in front of him. Not like this. Not when you can’t even explain why.

So, you swallow hard, willing yourself to pull it together. “I feel–” The words catch in your throat, and you take a shaky breath. “Off. I feel off.”

Nathan leans back slightly, his gaze softer now, searching your face as if trying to find the words you can’t seem to put together. “In what way?” he asks quietly. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I just…I feel like I’m drowning, Nathan. And it scares me.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just stares at you with that calculating expression that always makes you feel like he’s peeling back layers, pulling you apart piece by piece in his mind. But then, he does something unusual. Without a word, he reaches out and takes your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours, warm and grounding.

You glance down at your intertwined hands with a furrowed brow, surprised by the simple, steady pressure, by the quiet strength in his grip. The gesture of his hand holding yours is so simple, yet it’s disarming, catching you off guard in a way you can’t quite process.

“You’re not drowning,” he says quietly, his voice low and steady as his thumb brushes over the back of your hand in slow, rhythmic strokes. “I’m not going to let you drown.”

You look up into Nathan’s big, brown eyes, and there it is again—that…something you’ve caught glimpses of before, and each time, you wonder if you’re imagining it. You tilt your head, studying his face closely. There’s no smirk, no raised eyebrow, no trace of sarcasm or mockery. Just a calm sincerity that feels almost out of character, but undeniably real. How curious.

You wish you could believe him. You really do. But the truth is, you don’t know if you’re strong enough to keep your head above water. And that terrifies you.

“Do you think it’s too late for me?” The question slips out before you can think better of it, your voice soft, almost tentative, but you don’t break eye contact.

A flicker of concern crosses his face, a faint crease between his brows. But in an instant, he’s composed again, calm and measured. “Too late for what?”

You open your mouth to say something, but decide otherwise. Instead, you take in his face again—his irritating, beautiful face. And then you untangle your hand from his and smile. It’s a sad smile, but a smile all the same.

“Do you see that tree over there?” you ask softly, pointing at it. “With the red leaves?”

Nathan follows your gaze and nods, pausing like he’s trying to find the right words. “Yeah, it’s, uh…nice.”

He’s trying. You appreciate it.

“It’s a maple tree,” you say quietly, mesmerized by the vibrant leaves as they do their dance in the cool evening breeze.

Nathan glances over at you with that cocky smirk of his. “I knew that.”

You shoot him a look, the corners of your mouth lifting ever so slightly. “Sure you did.”

Your eyes linger on him for a moment longer, and then your gaze drifts back to the tree, to the fire-colored leaves swaying like they’re suspended between worlds.

“When I was a kid,” you begin, “we had this huge old maple tree in our backyard. And when the leaves turned, it was like someone had set it on fire. Blazing orange-red, the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. We’d rake them into these huge piles, and my sister and I would jump in them. We’d throw them at each other or hide under them like we were buried, laughing when someone found us. You could smell the leaves—kind of earthy and sweet, but also decaying. I loved that smell. It felt peaceful, like the world was settling down, getting ready to rest for a while.”

Nathan shifts slightly, turning his body further toward you. He’s watching you closely, quietly, not interrupting, just taking you in.

“I used to pretend the leaves were something else,” you continue, the words flowing a little more freely now. “Like they were treasures. Or clouds. My sister and I, we’d make up these stories about where they came from. Like the wind had brought them all the way from some far-off land. A kingdom of endless fun and freedom—and candy, of course—where the trees were always red and gold. We’d imagine there were people and small animals there, living in houses made of leaves, with rooftops that changed color with the season.”

Nathan smiles at that, a small quirk of his lips. “Sounds like you had the right idea.”

“I guess,” you shrug, smiling softly. “It was just fun to make things up like that. Everything seemed so full of possibility back then. We’d spend hours outside until it got dark, and then my mother would call us in for dinner. I can still hear her voice, actually. That…tone she’d get when it was time to stop playing and come inside. Like she hated breaking the magic for us, but she knew we had to eat eventually.” 

You pause, your smile fading as your gaze drifts down to your hands in your lap, your right thumb gently brushing over your left. “It’s strange,” you murmur, almost to yourself, “having these peaceful memories…knowing what happened after. But I guess that’s how most of us feel, looking back.”

When you glance back up, Nathan’s expression is unreadable. He holds your gaze for a quiet moment before he speaks, his voice low, almost careful. “You ever do that as an adult? Jump into a pile of leaves?”

His question catches you off guard, and for a second, you just stare at him. His eyes, dark and intense as always, seem softer now, almost warm in the glow of the fire. It’s such a simple question, but it hits you somewhere deep.

You shake your head, letting out a small, almost bitter laugh. “No. I guess I haven’t. I think you stop doing things like that when you get older. Feels like you lose permission to, even though no one really takes it away, I suppose. But yeah, sometimes I think about it—how free that was. Just letting go of everything for a second, and throwing myself into something else completely.”

Nathan nods, his gaze steady. “Funny how we do that to ourselves,” he says, his tone thoughtful. “Convince ourselves that certain things are off-limits, when they’re not. I bet you’d still like it.”

“Maybe,” you muse. “But it wouldn’t be the same, would it? Not without that...I don’t know, innocence, I guess. That sense that the world was kinder, softer in a way, and you didn’t need to have all the answers yet. You could just…be. Not something or someone, just you. And you’d be okay.”

Nathan leans forward a little. “You miss that?”

You think about it for a moment, letting the question sink in. “Yeah,” you admit softly. “I think I do in a way. I don’t miss being a kid or living with my…with those people. But I do miss that feeling sometimes. That...open-endedness. Like nothing was decided yet, and you had all the time in the world to figure it out.”

He watches you for a beat longer, his eyes narrowing slightly like he’s considering something important. Then he tilts his head, his gaze sharp. “And now?”

“Now?” You echo, feeling a strange knot tighten in your chest. “Now it’s different. I mean, you grow up. Things get more...serious. More realistic. You go to school, you pay taxes, you lose friends, you slave away at a dead-end job until–” you give him a pointed look, raising an eyebrow, “–some guy lures you to his compound, hands you an NDA in exchange for an exorbitant amount of money, and you think, why not? Then, surprise, he’s a complete pervert…but it works out because, well, so are you. So, you sign, stay, and build a new life.”

A smirk tugs at Nathan’s lips, and for a second, you think you see the faintest hint of a chuckle behind his composed expression. He doesn’t laugh, but his eyes glint with amusement.

“Sounds like a pretty enticing offer,” he replies, leaning back as if savoring the whole scenario he’s orchestrated.

“Yeah, irresistible,” you say with a roll of your eyes, but a reluctant smile escapes, warming the edges of your voice.

“You don’t get to just play outside without a care in the world anymore, though,” you murmur, the smile fading as the words settle. “There’s always something waiting for you—some problem that needs solving, some responsibility you need to take care of, some invisible weight holding you down. Even when you try to let go, it’s still right there in the back of your mind.”

Nathan nods slowly, understanding flickering in his expression. “Yeah, that’s how it goes. The world keeps spinning and you can’t isolate yourself from it. Not even here.”

“Hm.” You pause, his words sinking in, and your voice comes out quieter, almost wistful. “It’s not all bad,” you say, as if trying to convince yourself as much as him. “Just...some things. I think there’s a kind of magic you lose along the way. That sense that anything’s possible. But then again, I never thought I’d be testing AI in a mad scientist’s basement, so maybe there is still a bit of magic left.” You smile faintly, shaking your head. “It’s just…hard to see it sometimes when you’re drowning in all the noise.”

Nathan lets out a low hum, almost to himself, and leans back, his arm stretching lazily along the back of the chair. His fingers are so close to your shoulder, but not quite touching.

“I get that,” he says after a long silence. His voice is low and surprisingly soothing, and when you glance at him, you catch something in his eyes you don’t often see—vulnerability, maybe, or recognition. “It’s...strange, though. Hearing you talk like this.”

“Strange how?”

“You’re always so...analytical. Pragmatic.” He studies you carefully, his gaze focused but unusually gentle. “Like you see things clearly, but at arm’s length. You see the bigger picture. It’s one of the reasons why I hired you. And now, here you are, talking about magic and kingdoms and piles of leaves, and it’s–” 

“Embarrassing?” you interrupt, a self-conscious smile tugging at your lips. “Pointless? Dumb?”

“–nice,” he finishes, his voice warm. “It’s nice.” 

You blink, taken aback by his admission. You didn’t expect that. Not from him. For a second, you wonder if he’s messing with you—he has to be—but there’s no hint of teasing in his face, not even the faintest smirk. He may not be aware of it, but after all this time, you’re just as good at reading him as he is at reading you.

And this right here, this quiet honesty…it’s real.

Before you can stop it, a warmth begins to spread in your chest like a glimmer of light piercing through the clouded sky that’s been dulling your existence. It’s subtle but undeniable, a feeling you weren’t prepared for, slipping past your defenses.

“Well, maybe I’m not as analytical as you think,” you murmur, half-joking, trying to deflect the sudden weight of the moment.

“Maybe,” Nathan replies, lifting an eyebrow. “Or maybe you’ve just learned to keep that part of yourself quiet.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything at all. Instead, you look at the trees again, at the leaves still drifting down in lazy spirals, catching in the wind. For a moment, you wonder what it would be like to stand up, walk out into the woods, and dive into a pile of them. Just for the hell of it. Just to feel that reckless, unfiltered freedom again, if only for a second.

“You know, if you wanted to…” Nathan’s voice pulls you back to the present. “There’s still time. The world won’t stop you.”

You manage a small smile, but shake your head. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Not saying you have to,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on your profile. “But what if you did?”

You have to admit, there’s something undeniably freeing in just thinking about it.

🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂

Thank you for reading & let me know what you think! ♡

Nathan Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Inbox

[ladyveronikawrites]

AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A GOOD TIME

Lady Midnight's Kinktober in the Concrete Jungle 2024

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x Jolly Karlsson x OC x Noah Sebastian

Cw- masked men, roleplaying, sensory deprivation: blindfolds, scarf as bondage, unprotected vaginal sex, mean ex boyfriend, double penetration, oral sex (male and female receiving), mild thigh slapping, spitting, vaginal fingering,  jerking off, facial, cum eating,  revenge kink if you squint, getting caught, voyeurism, THICK DICK NICK, one hot foursome, If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: a little self-indulgent fic, Star Wars characters ahead - Nick as Kylo Ren makes me feral lol - pärla means 'gem' in Swedish

AO3 || Wattpad || Word Count: 3k || masterlist || Taglist sign up

dividers by saradika-graphics

Ruby swipes on her signature red lip as she looks over her outfit in the full-length mirror by the front door. She adjusts her boring brown Jedi robes Nathan insisted she wear to juxtapose his Darth Maul. She scoffs to herself knowing damn well he has no idea who Darth Maul is and probably found the costume at Spirit Halloween. Reluctantly she sighs, the distant dream of her Sabine Wren cosplay lying buried under clothes in her closet never to see the light of day.

Her phone chimes, ripping her from her brief moment of sadness. 

She frantically types ‘OMW’ as she slides into the Uber.

Nathan <Ru, I have been waiting for over an hour.>

She can hear Nathan’s anger through the screen, silently sending a prayer for the driver to go faster. Ruby and Nathan were high school sweethearts that turned into an on-and-off-and-on-again situationship while they were away in college, but when Ruby dropped out of college to pursue music full-time as an indie artist - things went sour really fast. He never understood her passion for music, too self-absorbed in his reputation at the Ivy League university he got into thanks to his wealthy parents. 

Her fingers freeze over the screen as her heart shatters into a thousand pieces. 

Nathan <You know what, since it seems like you don’t care about MY time, we are done. For real this time. Don’t even bother coming.>

Tears stream down her face as she powers down her phone and shoves it into her purse. He can go fuck himself, Ruby thinks to herself - and she gets an even better idea. 

“S-sorry but can you take me downtown instead?” she asks, her voice wavering slightly as the realization sinks in. She takes a deep breath, drying her tear-stained cheeks as the driver pulls up to Nathan’s most hated bar- which happens to be her favorite, Third Base. 

The bar is bustling as she walks in. It’s been updated since she had been there, all those months ago when Nathan was doing a semester abroad in Rome. Ruby instantly fell in love with the quaint charm of the dive bar. It didn’t help that the bar owner was ruggedly handsome, the kind of personality that was homegrown from a small town. She ached for the slow stroll of home instead of the hustle and bustle of city life. Festive Halloween touches add to the ambiance and that’s when she realizes other patrons are also adorned in costume.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” his familiar twang wraps around her like a warm blanket. She should probably be sobbing into her wine glass in a rose-scented bubble bath in the comfort of her home instead she replies with “Whiskey neat, double.” She notices he’s the only one not dressed up, even his bartender is sporting a risque outfit. 

Ruby is about to mention the lack of costume when he asks “That kinda night?” Ruby downs the drink without a word, slides off the metal bar stool, and makes her way to the old jukebox in the corner of the bar. She scrolls through the CDs not really impressed with the selection. 

“Not finding what you’re looking for?” A distorted voice has Ruby turning. She opens her mouth to grumble about the lackluster music selection, but her brain turns to static. She’s met face-to-face with Kylo Ren. 

“I-” 

“Here, you might like this.” Another man dressed up as a Mandalorian pushes between them. Ruby stands in awe as the two men fight over a CD. Her awe turns into appreciation as she notices the small details in the homemade costume. Whoever’s in the suit spent hours making it.

“Can I buy you another drink?”  A deep voice comes from the bar.

She turns and freezes. “N-nathan? How’d yo-” She is silenced by a red-painted finger as the man towers over her. Realization strikes her that this man is too tall to be Nathan. 

“Nathan isn’t here Jedi.” Boldly, the stranger spits in her face - playing into the villainous role - yet Ruby can’t help but be even more aroused. 

Ruby finds herself being shoved into the back seat of an SUV. Not in a kidnappy way but in a rushed I-want-to-devour-you-way. The look Darth Maul is giving her has her pussy throbbing. She slides her way in as Kylo and Mando hop in the front. Warm lips pressed against her and; at this moment, she couldn't care less if she was covered in red and black body paint by the end of this. She pulls him in closer as his gloved hand teases the waistband of her leggings. Her head thuds against the window when he slips his fingers inside her as his tongue explores her mouth. Suddenly, his long finger slams into the sweet spot and she bites down on his bottom lip, hard. 

He groans, “You gonna surrender, Jedi?” 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” she whines as he finger fucks her all the way to her apartment. By the time they get to her apartment, his gloves are drenched and the back seat is damp where she was sitting, but Ruby could give a single fuck as in the span of 30 minutes she had already had more satisfying orgasms than Nathan could ever give her. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the thrill? Probably both. If one of them can satisfy her alone with his fingers imagine all three of them.

“You wanna do this Jedi?” Kylo Ren asks once in Ruby’s apartment.

“It’s not every night you get three masked men in your apartment,” she smirks her hands roaming over his black robes. 

“You’ll have to wear this,” the foreign Mandalorian slides a blindfold over her eyes. 

“That’s fine,” her breath catches as her hands drift up to grip Ren’s mask. “Can I take this off?” 

Abruptly, she finds herself pressed against a solid chest behind her and warm lips devour her own. She tangles her fingers into long hair and he groans when she yanks. 

“I was not expecting long hair, but it’s so soft.” Ruby twirls a strand around her finger. Her hand cups his cheek and pulls him into another kiss.

“Ren’s not the only one here Jedi.” Her heartbeat skyrockets at the memory of Darth Maul in the backseat of the car. The way he towered over her, his eyes dark with lust, and his voice made her pussy flutter.

 The mattress groans with the added weight and Ruby’s mind begins to spiral. She yelps with teeth and stubble brush against the skin on her inner thigh. Fuck, Mando has facial hair that's fucking hot. Ruby giggles as he inches closer to her core and at the same time remembers how Nathan can only grow a pathetic and patchy beard. She squirms, aching for roughness against her pussy..

“Oh you’re a feisty one,” Maul whispers in her ear as he settles down beside her. Suddenly, her hands are bound loosely with something smooth and soft. Her brain rationalizes one of her summer scarves that hangs from the hooks over the door. A part of her hopes it’s her favorite one, the black one with skulls. 

“Our red hot Ruby.” he nips at her ear and at the same time one of them pinches her nipple. Ruby yelps at the sudden pain, endorphins surging through her body. “You like a little pain with your pleasure, hm?” 

Smack

A large hand makes contact with her inner thigh. “Fuck! Yes,” Ruby yelps. “Yes, I like pain ‘n pleasure!”

Lips brush against her cheek. “Our little pain slut.”

“Our little pain slut,” Mando mumbles against her throbbing clit as he sinks two thick fingers inside her. 

“Fuck,” she groans as her pussy walls stretch from the invasion. 

“God Ruby… have you ever- “ he trails off, lost in thought. He sucks her clit between his lips and thrusts his fingers into the spongy sweet spot. Ruby writhes as the coil winds tighter in her core. Large hands clamp down on her shoulders to keep her steady as her body starts to tremble. In a silent scream, the dam breaks, and euphoria floods through her body as she releases herself onto Mando’s face. She writhes oversensitive and overwhelmed as he laps up everything she gives him. 

“Little, pärla” Mando pants, “You are divine.” 

Ruby finds herself being pulled gently to sit upright. “Here’s some water,” Ren says softly, handing her a glass of water.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks warm to the kind gesture. “Nathan never took care of me like this.” Her lips press into a thin line and her shoulders slump forward as her mind flashes each disappointing experience. 

A warm hand settles on the small of her back, gently rubbing up and down. “Ain’t nothin’ but a good time, hm?” Mando whispers seductively, his breath is hot against the shell of her ear.  

Ruby briefly wonders if that would have been the track he chose at the bar. Her heart flutters at the parallels and she enthusiastically adds, “Hell yeah!” 

She squeals at first when hands grip her hips and hoist her onto his lap. His hard cock

“You ready for a good time, sweetheart?” Ren asks before pulling her into a heated kiss. His free hand roams over her tits as another set of hands rubs up and down her thighs. Sandwiched between the two men her heart races with anticipation. 

“Got any lube, darling?” Mando asks as Ren pulls her up onto her knees. 

“In… the… drawer…”  she replies between kisses. Her heart leaps into her throat when a cold and wet finger circles the tense muscle of her asshole.

“Can Mando fill you up back there while Ren plays with your pretty pussy?” Maul’s baritone makes her spine tingle. Mando’s finger stills at her back entrance and Ren nips at her other ear. 

“Can I watch?” Maul asks, pulling the blindfold off and Ruby’s eyes widen, taking in the sight before her. Ren’s stormy blue-gray eyes captivate her first, then his soft smile and tint of pink on his cheeks. She can’t resist carding her hand through his hair, so smooth. He leans into her touch, entranced by the gentleness. The world around them darkness slightly and she briefly forgets about the other two. She could stay here, locked in his gentle gaze but her eyes begin to wonder. Her other hand traces the tattoos on his shoulder to his wrist where in the corner of her vision she spies his large thick cock. 

Suddenly, a gloved hand grips her wrist and twists her sideways. His fingers entwine with hers as the other grips her chin. “Don’t forget about us, Jedi.” His deep brown eyes are piercing and she notices that his face is the only exposed skin free of paint. His abdominal muscles flex as her gaze lowers, she huffs disappointed that he is clothed from the waist down.

Her eyes widen at the sound of a deep moan. Maul tilts her head back so she can see the man behind her. His grasp loosens completely and she twists her body more to see Mando better. 

“Hello, pärla,” he moans her nickname, his eyelids flutter closed as he strokes himself. 

“Looks like Mando’s ready. Are you?” Maul asks. 

Ruby remains fixed on watching Mando touch himself. She mutters a breathless, “Yeah.” 

“Come back to your supreme leader.” A tinge of pain pricks at Ruby’s scalp when Ren fists her hair and tugs. She moans as the pain melts into pleasure. 

“Finally showing me your dark side, Ren,” Ruby smirks. “I like it.” 

“Good.” Ren crowds into Ruby’s space, thrusting his hand around her throat. He squeezes slightly then releases pressure completely. “Lean back.”

Ruby adjusts her stance to straddle Mando’s hips. Together, Mando and Ren guide her to lower herself onto him. Maul groans beside them.  The stretch takes her breath away, if only for a moment as the hand tightens around her neck and lips crash onto hers. Ruby succumbs to the sensations letting Mando set the pace while she battles for breath with the fallen Jedi. Ren shoves her back against Mando’s chest by the throat. She sucks in the air when he releases his hand, chest heaving with every inhalation. 

“My turn,” Ren growls, nipping at her earlobe. He squeezes the soft tissue of her breasts as his mouth trails kisses down her torso. Grinning he spreads her legs apart wider and his lips gently kiss her tummy before descending through her silken folds. Mando thrusts into her as Ren teases her other hole with his tongue and then sucks at her clit. She’s teetering on the edge of bliss when it is abruptly ripped away.

“No cumming yet darling.” Mando stills inside her just as Ren flattens his tongue licking one final time before pulling away. 

“Do you want a taste?” Ren asks, his lips ghosting over hers. Her mouth drops open to respond but without warning, fingers slide their way in. Disappointment sours her stomach when Ren leans over and kisses Mando. Greedily, she flicks her tongue around Ren’s fingers in hopes of vying for his attention. 

“Is our Ruby a little jealous she is getting attention?” Maul laughs. In the heat of the moment, Ruby had forgotten all about him. “No… you aren’t jealous, but your needy little cunt is.” Desperation flashes through her as she bites down on Ren’s fingers. Ren huffs a laugh against Mando’s lips, 

“I heard that cunt is still needy, hm?” Ren tilts his head, his gaze scanning over her body. A small whine leaks out of her mouth. He slides his fingers out of her mouth and onto her throat. His lips curl into a devilish smirk, “You want more?” 

“Yes, yes, yes, please!” Ruby’s lashes flutter when Ren sinks into her dripping pussy. 

“So tight-” Ren groans.

“Dude, I can feel you,” Mando gasps when Ren bottoms out.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Maul muses.

Ren holds her steady as Mando slowly thrusts in and out of her. 

“Feeling good?” Maul whispers lowly in her ear.

“S-so good, so full.. he's so big” Her words melt into nothingness when Ren flexes inside her.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna come… don’t-” Ruby whines as Mando and Ren alternate thrusting into her ass and cunt.

“Ru, you home? I saw your car out front.” Her ex’s voice booms through the apartment, his words slur together in one long word. But she can’t be bothered as pressure builds in her core. 

“Shhh,” Mando shushes her with a hand to her mouth

“Maybe,” Maul leans over and whispers turning Ruby slightly towards him. Grinning he offers his eager cock to her and she eagerly nods. Ren smacks Maul in the arms when he moans as Ruby takes him into her mouth. 

The bedroom door swings open and Maul’s cock throbs between her lips. Ren and Mando are too far gone to care when -

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

Ruby sighs against Maul’s softening cock slipping it from her mouth while she is still being pounded between two beautiful men. It takes all of her strength not to come when she leans around Ren to stare Nathan dead in the eyes. 

“Fuck! You!” she groans as she comes, flipping Nathan one and then sucking on each of her middle fingers. Her eyes roll back as she catches a glimpse of him stalking out the door. When the door slams shut she sinks into Mando as euphoria floods her body.

“Damn, that was hot!” Maul says impressed. Ruby peers up through her lashes at Maul who’s stoking his now hard cock. 

“Yeah?” Ruby cocks an eyebrow. Without hesitation, she pulls his free hand and sucks on his middle finger. 

Maul sucks in a curse. “Damn girl, fuck.” Ruby bites down at Maul’s finger, not painfully hard, but enough when her hair is yanked back and she is pulled off. 

“Wh-”

“Open up,” Mando commands as he grips her jaw forcing her mouth open. Ruby opens her mouth wide and sticks her tongue out with anticipation. Mando lowers his hands to rest around her throat squeezing gently. Ren tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down to suck on her nipple. She jolts when he bites down, her pussy walls clenching around his semi-hard cock. Mando slides his hand down her middle to circle her clit as Ren plays with her tits. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Maul curses as he splatters his cum all over Ruby’s face. Small whimpers come from her open mouth as another orgasm wrecks through her. She swallows then licks her lips and smiles up at Maul before pulling him closer to lick and suck at his softening cock. She hisses when Ren pulls off her tit with an audible pop. 

Ruby hums satisfiedly, leaning back against Mando, as Ren slides out of her. Before he can say another word, she mumbles, “Baby wipes in the bathroom down the hall.” 

She doesn’t open her eyes but sinks further into bliss as Mando rubs his hands up and down her arms. “You did so well for us Pärla,” he whispers in her ear. All she can muster is a hummed agreement. 

“Let me clean you up,” Maul offers when Ren returns. She blinks to find soft brown eyes and a dazzling smile to greet her. “Thank you,” she whispers. “All of you,” she adds when Ren takes Maul’s place in front of her to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. As Ren and Maul redress, Mando steals more kisses as he helps Ruby up to dress her. 

“Here,” Maul hands Ruby her glass of water. “You can call me Noah.” 

“Hi, Noah.” she flashes him a dazzling smile in the afterglow.

“Food?” Ren asks before adding,” The name’s Nick and he’s Jolly.” 

“No please- you guys can go, I’ll be alright.” Ruby dismisses, gesturing to the door.  

“Please?” Jolly wraps her up in his arms. “Dinner and a movie and we will leave after that.”

“We just don’t want you to be alone,” Nick adds. 

“Fine.” Ruby relents as her stomach rumbles. “Thai food and the new Deadpool movie.” 

The four of them settle on blankets and pillows in the living room with Ruby in the middle. She finds herself leaning against Jolly’s shoulder and for the first time in a long time has finally felt at peace.

👑Royal Readers👑

@deathblacksmoke @mysticdoodlez @sitkowski @snarkysolaris @collapsedglasshouses @shilohrosechicken

@cookiesupplier @iknownothingpeople @dominuslunae @agravemisstake @the-ancient-fae

@itsafullmoon @philomenie @th4t-em0-k1d @baddestomens @rumoured-whispers

@blackveilomens @sorrowsofsilence @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @tearfallpixie @nerdraging4point0

@omensbrainrot @99png @awkwardalex @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @lobolocaamo

[nathandrakeisabottom]

Headcannons about them with an anxious SO? Love your stuff x

Thank you, friend! Now, in full canonical honesty, I don’t believe that either Nathan or Sam would be particularly good at dealing with their deeper anxiety, let alone someone else’s, let alone someone else’s who they loved dearly and would only be afraid to make it worse (that many crumbling bridges and a guy’s gotta if consider his only superpower is the ability to destroy everything he touches) for most of their young lives. 

However, I do believe that post-UC4 (perhaps a little earlier for Nathan), and a good dose of necessary therapy (paid for in pirate coins, of course)--- they’d be more than willing to finally take on the challenge. 

For themselves, and for the person they love more than anything.

Drakes with an Anxious S/O Headcanons

Nathan:

In his younger days, the prince of the awkward smile and half-hearted clap on the back. A pulley doll whose only catchphrases were “Man, that’s hard”, “Yeah. Yeesh.”, and “Soooo, I guess this would be a bad time for a joke, huh?”. Scurries to the bathroom as soon as they’re not in tears anymore, and stays there for as long as it takes to stop hearing the residual sobs.

However, his late 30s and 40s bring him a much healthier perspective (and therapy— Jesus, finally) and being the smarty pants he is, he passes on no opportunity to put his new skills and knowledge to use.

That playfulness and desire to find the lightness in even the hardest situations never leaves him at any age, though.

A panic attack? “‘Is something… wrong with you’? You realize you’re talking to the guy who accidentally destroys ancient temples for a living, as an archaeologist? And I still consider myself a not so bad guy. So in my eyes, you’re basically a lesser known Mesopotamian god.”

Got a bad grade? “A D in Psychometrics? I don’t know, sounds like they don’t know anything about math if they’re using a letter to grade you. Maybe they should go get their teaching certificates checked. Hey, how ‘bout I just draw you a PhD myself? You know I have an eye for art.” 

Dealing with shitty parents? Landlord? Roommates? Exes who won’t leave you the fuck alone? “What? That buffoon? Guy who can’t even spell their own name right? That asshole isn’t worth a thought of a thought of a thought in your head. Pretty sure they haven’t had a thought in their own head since 1996.”

As soon as the first wide-toothed smile is won, he’s leaning into his partner with a secretive smirk: “Ya wanna get the hell out of here?” 

Because distractions always helped him before. 

Will act especially gentlemanly, and theatrically play it up, while taking their partner for a frozen yogurt, antique shop, Target trip, public park, laser tag (yes, really) decompress. Bows when he opens the car door for them. Pays for everything. Calls them ‘your majesty’ for the entirety of the excursion.

All he wants is to get them to smile. And he’s not stopping until he sees it. 

When the night creeps in and his S/O starts to lose steam, Nathan’s own worry grows more obvious, though he tries his best to keep it to himself. 

Watches them with wide eyes. Gives them space, but still asks every few minutes if they need a cup of water. No? Tea? Arnold Palmer? Popsicle? Massage? Hot Pocket? Sexy pillow fight? However many it takes to make his partner laugh again. But he fully means every offer he gives.

Says nothing as he helps them undress and into their PJs. Touches are tender and intimate, gently rubs their shoulders and neck. Never too hard, never too direct. Plays the friendly ghost and lets their partner take the lead, but never, ever just sits around to watch.

Makes them a beverage of some sort, even if they say no. Hot lemonade with honey is his personal homecure. Says yellow is a happy color, so it must be good for you.

And right before they turn the lights out, Nate timidly offers— with a shy, trying chuckle— if they want him to read them a bedtime story. 

Somehow shocked every time they say yes. Mumbles something self-derogatory about himself (“Ya know, not the best actor, but—” “Personally I think I have the voice of a dying goose, but—”) before sitting on the nearest surface and cracking open a book.

If he’s still feeling a little awkward, will uneasily ask if they wanna hear what he’s been reading lately, and will do so if asked— but really wants to read the pirate storybooks his mother read to him and Sam when they were kids.

It always made him feel better when the world felt too big, too scary, too cruel. 

So he wants to share it with the person he loves. 

He wants to share everything with the person he loves.

And without even asking, goes to the medicine cabinet and brings them a tablet of whatever they need when the anxiety gets especially bad, and says “I know, it’s scary. But we’ve been through scary before, right?” with a kiss on the cheek as they swallow it down with a sip of lemonade.

Lingers, eyes down, and vaguely nods to nobody as he stands and walks to the door.

“Want me… uh, want me to keep reading to you?” But he offers before he can even get past the door frame. 

“Do you want me to want you to keep reading to me?” 

And the last thing he wants to see is his love, alone. The idea of them crying beneath the covers because they were too afraid to burden him with it, too afraid to be seen. Everything he felt he had to do when he was 6 and his mother “passed”, age 9, 10, 11, 12 after a black eye, the words that his brain told him wrong: spoken aloud by the playground bullies he feared he’d never be stronger than. 

But he knew they were wrong. The bullies were wrong. The ones in his brain. The ones in theirs.

“Yes.” He replies without missing a beat. 

And he makes sure to hold their hand in his free one until the second they fall asleep… and a few hours after, just to be safe.

The next morning they fucking better expect breakfast in bed— and he maybe, just maybe, might even be willing to spring for McDonald’s, if that’s what they want. As long as they promise to eat actual fruit after. And hell, maybe even a vegetable or two when he makes dinner that night. Did you know that eating right and exercise are actually primary solutions to poor mental health—? That’s what Dr. Dorian said— No, potatoes don’t count as a vegetable— no, especially not if it’s fried— NO, FRENCH FRIES DON’T COUNT, BABY—

Sam:

Sam takes a bit longer to warm up to discussing anxiety than Nathan does, mostly due to struggling so deeply with it on his own. It’s not like prisoners (or Shoreline guards) made the most comforting companions. 

The better he could keep secrets, the less he could reveal, the safer he’d be.

So it makes sense that it’s both his greatest strength and weakness when it comes to emotionally turbulent times. 

In his younger, more avoidant years, he’d be the first to leave the room, leave the building, hell, sometimes even leave the city after a particularly heavy cry or confrontation with his then-partner. Only to come back the next morning and act like nothing ever happened. 

But now, he doesn’t run. After prison, after Rafe, after Madagascar, all he wants is to be allowed to stay. To be wanted to stay by someone who loves him. 

Is happiest to just sit with you in the silence. His biggest skill is his ability to weather the storm. And whether you need to scream bloody murder, or need to sit and decompress and just fucking feel, but can’t do it alone, Sam’s there. Listening. 

Once you’re done talking, he takes one last, long drag of his cigarette, stubs it out onto the pavement, and asks simply: “So do you want solutions… or something else, sweet’art?” 

You can see in his eyes— darting less than solid, certain against your own— that he really means it, in every way that he was too afraid to when he was younger.

The wonderful and terrifying thing about having anxiety while Sam is there is that it’s a vulnerable experience for the both of you. He’s learning, discovering, trying right along with you. And he may not be able to lift you up so easily, but he’ll be able to sink into the dark places with you, and not be afraid to see what’s down there. 

And maybe seeing someone he loves so deeply, sees as so beautiful, so smart, so kind, so wonderful, so absolutely perfect to him feel the same ways he does about himself… maybe it makes him think that he’s not as terrible as his brain tells him, either. 

Helps you take action by letting himself (finally) not be the smart one: “When ya… get like this, what do you usually do first, sweet’art? Paint me a pit’chure.” Gives you complete control, and smiles softly when you wipe your tears and the logical, the archaeological mind awakens. Mimics unraveling an ancient map when you begin to explain, and you inadvertently hiccup out a laugh. 

At times, it’ll feel like he’s trying to run again, but when he stands up and walks across the room— he always returns. This time with your favorite of his jackets, the denim one that smells like him even though he just cleaned it, and drapes it protectively over your shoulders. Clasps his palm at the back of your neck and rubs out the knot he always finds there. Smiles toothy and wide when your words are broken up by sighs of relief. Only to be filled once again with silence, gazes meeting sweet and safe. 

“Remember Indonesia?” He offers with a smirk, despite your furrowed brow.

“I guess? What about—?” 

“I read the runes’ instructions and ran us in circles all around Bali, only to reread the transcript and realized I got three letters completely wrong. J—V—A. Java. It was goddamn Java the entire time.” 

“Your point being?” 

He smiles and shrugs. Trying. Maybe he’s wrong, a foreigner in some ancient, uncertain land, but he tries.

“Sometimes our brains are just wrong.” He tries for you. “That’s all.”

You sniffle, and he leans in to press a prickly kiss to your cheek. His jacket is still warm from the dryer, wafting with the residual sting of cigarette, Old Spice Captain, cheap mouthwash, even cheaper aftershave, and something else completely unnameable. 

And maybe some others would think the scent appalling, but it’s the strangeness, the specificity, and yes, the stank— everything that makes Sam him— that makes you love it. Love him. The depth. The difference. 

The pain, and what he chose to do with it. 

Another kiss, this time down your neck. This time, the sigh of relief is his own.

What he chose to change it into. 

“So… any chance sex therapy might be a thing?” He asks grinningly.

“Why don’t we find out, ‘sweet’art’?”

[milkypompon]

pairing: Nathan Bateman x F!Reader

summary: Did you wake up in your boss' bed after a night together? Oops...

content: Fluff, morning after, talks of sex, sprinkles of smut

wc: 642

a/n: I am balls deep into Nathan Bateman... I'm rewatching Ex Machina and couldn't help but write for this pathetically genius man.

Main Masterlist

–

The bed underneath you was plush… too soft even.

You roll around in the sheets and still haven’t fallen off the single-sized mattress.

Oh, fuck. 

This was a king-sized mattress. 

And it wasn’t yours for that matter.

“You going to piss on my pillows next? C’mon, finish marking your territory.” A lilt of amusement hidden behind the gruff smirk catches you off-guard.

“I already did last night.” You throw said pillows at Nathan, he sidessteps each one. “Where’d you put my phone?”

Nathan chuckles and leans against the door frame, a towel wrapped low on his waist – freshly bathed with water droplets clinging to his chest. 

You knew that you’d be caught staring anyway, so you didn’t bother being discreet about it.

“Are you gonna take pictures to use as references for solo sessions?” He pushes up his glasses, making a show of it with his fingers. 

You rub the sleep out of your eyes, ineffectively stopping last night’s memories from seeping in. Those deliciously thick digits that plugged his cum back into your cunt, threatening to spill out to his annoyance. 

“Just give it back, Bateman. You and I got shit to do.”

Nathan pouts.

He fucking pouts.

You almost feel bad for wanting to leave but reality gave you a cold-wash of “you just slept with your boss”. 

“Quit thinking so hard, you’re gonna fry your brain.” He fishes your phone from god knows where because he certainly didn’t have pockets sewn into the towel.

“Was that between your ass cheeks?”

He tosses your phone back. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

The view is “not safe for work” to say the least. 

Your bare back is pressed against the bed, your stiffening nipples exposed to the cool air. The only thing covering you up right now was the thin sheet splayed across your pussy. (Damn rich people and their attraction to minimalism). 

But there was no point of decency now. He’d seen you on your knees and against the wall. 

There were a few places he’s yet to take you like his annoyingly neat desk that you wanted to mess up just for the sake of musing his workspace.

He said it’d be like straight out of a badly written porno. “Hot, billionaire boss fucks ditzy, sexy assistant on his desk during work hours.”

You rolled your eyes. “You sure the title shouldn’t be ‘assistant finds out her boss is actually the owner of PornHub’? How the hell did you come up with it so fast?”

His sweatpants were past his knees but he was rudely interrupted by a call with the board before he could pull your panties off. 

“Alright, sir. You’ve got a long day today.” You open up the Teams app, listing off his daily meetings. 

He plucks your phone and settles your head into the crook of his neck. “I knew you’d do this, pretending like it didn’t happen.”

“I can’t believe I slept with you.”

“I know, I was there.” 

You can’t help it when the corners of your lips curl at his stupid remark.

Nathan beams at drawing out a reaction. “Oh? Is that a smile I see?”

“No, you idiot.” You’re full-on grinning now, cheesing and all.

“Quit worrying about your pretty head, babe. You’re already working full-time at the facility, no one’s gonna know what you’re doing here. Besides, my dick is just a bonus.”

“Is your dick equivalent to a bar of gold? Because I’m gonna need that extra money once I get fired.”

“Now you’re just giving me ideas. Imagine that! A golden dildo molded from my cock.” He strokes his beard. “A true Midas’ touch.” 

You crane over to him, nudging your nose against his. “I’d never survive a day in your mind.”

“Well, you made it through a night with me, so I think it’s fair game.”

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

[twigg96]

If u havent already done it,, hcs for dethklok w a very physically affectionate s/o ? Like one that is always down to cuddle n stuff

Hello my sweet Anon! No I haven’t written anything like that yet!! I hope you like these HCs

Nathan - While Nathan himself is a gigantic teddy bear who is touch starved beyond belief. He does find the act of being propositioned with cuddles and touches to be bloody vomit inducing for several reasons. The first being that cuddles and intimate touches took just that... intimacy. And truth be told Nathan wasn't the best when it came to that realm of being. Sure he could pretend. But he hated how nervous he became when his leg touched his partner's, uncertain if the tingles of excitement he felt were ever reciprocated. He hated how sweaty his palms became holding his SO's knowing full well that they could feel just how moist he was becoming just thinking of where that could lead. Marriage and kids of course... and he hated that his mind took him down a futuristic rabbit hole that got his heart broken more times than he ever realized. But his partner... never seemed to mind. Their head on his chest during movies they listened to his heart beat and breathed with him through the panic. Kissed his sweaty knuckles and eased a hand over his bouncing knee. They whispered that they were scared too. But that was an important part of intimacy no one ever talked about. The anxiety and the fear that came with every touch the one that eased with time and with every breath shared until it was hardly noticed anymore and soon two souls became one.

Pickles - The little drummer was not a man who was overly touchy to begin with. People could thank his abusive parents and sketchy past for his fear of intimate touches. He'd duck away from a hug faster than most at the beginning of a relationship. He wasn't repulsed by touches. He'd probably even pull his partner in for hugs and cuddles. But he had boundaries he expected his partner to understand and respect just as he knew his partner had their own he would respect over anything else. There were times that he would pull his partner into his embrace all day. Most of those times alcohol or other substances were involved, other times he or his loved ones were in a heightened emotional state. He hugged people the tightest then with all his heart and soul. He held them to tell them he was there. He wasn't going anywhere. Burying his face in the crook of their neck, his beard scratching against the skin of their neck he held them tight to help them relax. And when his asthma hit and his anxiety washed over him the most was when he needed his partner to step in and return the favor.

Murderface - William likes to pretend that he is as macho as they come. And sure he pretends for a while. He pretends that he's a sexual extraordinaire, has a 20 meter defeater, and lives without a single fear in the entire world. He pretends for a while when he first meets his partner... because he never expects to catch feelings. He ever expects to see them again. But the fact of the mater is... Murderface is entirely too scared... for much of anything when it comes to anything intimate with his partner especially when he starts a relationship with his partner. It takes a long time for him to open up to his partner. To let them touch him so intamatly and with so much trust that they won't hurt him. Because the truth of the matter was that was what he was scared of most. Getting close. Comfortable. Then being discarded and forgotten like yesterday's trash. He hated that feeling. He hated it more that he had grown used to it. So when the couple were watching one of his favorite movies... maybe a boring documentary and his partner's full attention was on the screen not on their phone, not talking to some other guy... he felt himself grow comfortable... wrapping his arm around their shoulder he pulled them close kissing their temple.

Skwisgaar - For the Swede cuddling and touching came in the form of sex so often that he became complacent to the idea that cuddling only came to those in the throws of passion. When his partner tried to hug or hold him in public it sprang to life a problem the blonde had to either excuse himself to the bathroom for. Although many times he simply would try to pull his partner into the alleys and closets to get some alone time. One night when his partner comes to bed they wear the most revealing clothes they could find, crawl into bed and cuddle up close to him, their fingers ghost his skin as they lay sweet kisses across his collar bone, neck, and jaw. Just when Skwisgaar is positive he's getting lucky, his partner pulls away. Touch therapy. That's what they call it. They want to retrain his brain into learning they can touch him without always getting laid. At first he fights the idea. Then his partner cuddles close once more telling him to close his eyes. He does, not because they said so of course... but because he was getting blue balls and it hurt... But... eventually he understood. The quietness, the sensuality without the sexuality... it was nice. Comfortable.

Toki - This boy is just as touchy feely as his partner. It makes other people uncomfortable how clingy they are to each other. Stage 5 clingers would not be a stretch to describe either of them. Velcro Partners. If they're seen apart it's not because either of them want to be alone.

[lol-jackles]

Since you’re in casting, I’d love to pick your brain a little about selecting actors. I love that Jared is a constantly rising star, but in the most loving way possible, he really isn’t the best actor. 80% of the time when I’m watching him, it feels like I’m watching someone acting. He’s not the most natural Versus someone whose performance I get lost in. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to watch everything he does, and it kind of seems standard for cable network TV (for example, I feel the same ways about Nathan Fillion, David Boreanaz, Matthew Daddario - but it doesn’t make me like them any less). Honestly, the only network TV show they didn’t make me feel that was is Hannibal, and even that was only the leading actors.

I would have assumed that acting ability would be the most important part, but your page has made me realize it’s more than that, and let’s be honest, Vampire Diaries wouldn’t haven’t gotten that far if acting was the most important skill set needed. I’m guessing for the Jared’s and David’s their entire history counts most, but what about for someone just getting hired - the Jared getting the Gilmore Girl’s role or the David getting the Angel role. If they’re acting seems…stiff (wrong word?) what makes a casting director say, ‘you know what, let’s give it to them anyway.’

It’s just such a hard world to break into and I’m guessing there are auditions from people with a little more natural talent, so what makes that final decision?

(Asking as someone who is about to start the audition process)

I think what Jared (and Nathan, David, etc) has doing for him is he acts from his authentic truth. I'll expand on it later in this post. With that said, Jared is a character actor trapped in a leading man role, it's why he's not the "best actor" because people tend to believe that good character actors disappear into their roles by diminishing their screen presence, which you can't do when you're a leading man. You may be picking up on this conflicting issue. Think of Brad Pitt who works best as a supporting actor (X), and struggles a bit as a leading man so he has to throw out nuances and reply more on his raw charisma.

I haven't seen Gilmore Girls but I read Jared was the 2nd or 3rd Dean. Dean was recast because the OG Deans' chemistry with Rory wasn't up to snuff. So that answer your "final decision" question, which is chemistry. David Boreanaz had good chemistry with Sarah Michelle Geller. His chemistry Emily Deschanel in Bones was fine, bordering on good, but it was more fun/odd couple vibe whereas his interaction with Michelle had depth. Whenever Jared and Jensen tell their chemistry audition story in front of the producers, I'm pretty sure they're leaving out that Jared likely had chemistry auditions with other various Dean actors.

My advice on auditions is walk into that room like you’re going to solve their problem. 

Most casting directors talk about wanting auditioning actors to "make bold choices" because they believe it will get in touch with their authentic self and therefore, make them a captivating performer. My advice is adjust the text to your authentic emotion so that you're reacting to the events of the story from your internal truth. It doesn’t matter if the story is a sci-fi, comedy, or a period piece drama: if we don’t believe the actors, we won’t care what happens to them in the story. The audience is an incredible lie-detector: the average person has, for their entire life, been storing countless passive data on how normal people react to various situations, so you can’t fool them.  

My CD used to say that it's easier to tell the truth on camera than it is to lie because once you believe in yourself, then you're not acting anymore. I don't 100% agree with her but that seems to be what most CDs think.

The more confidently you use yourself as a canvas and let the context of the scene speak through your own emotional repertoire and point of view, the more compelling and interesting you are to watch. The most interesting or captivating actor is the one whose next movement, facial expression, or line reading is unpredictable. That's the difference between Jeff Bridges (unpredictable) and Beu Bridges (reliable).

[anothertransauthor]

heyy so nice to see a new author in the mtl tag ♡ ～('▽^人)

how good are the boys at dancing? from best to worst

would they agree to dance with their s/o? when and where?

(I'd love if you added charles too if that isn't too many people heh)

Hi I love asks like these!!! I’m happy to be in the mtl tag! I haven’t felt so compelled to write since undertale (that’s a LONG TIME!!!)

Oh guys you better hold onto your pants because I have a fucking tierlist for all the characters coming up!

Anyways onto the dancing!

If you’re looking for a nice night on the town, you better ask Pickles or Charles! Not only do they know the best spots in town (though drastically different for the both of them) they will absolutely show you off! Pickles I feel like would love to dance in general, it’s the liquid courage in his veins. Someone should have taken him to prom, this man can boogie down in a rusty club. He likes to go with the flow and if that’s the kind of night you’re looking for then have a few drinks with pickles!

However if you want a more put together date, then Charles is your man. Fancy rides, expensive dinners, futuristic clubs. He’s watching your every move as you dance, he could make your silhouette out in a crowd instantly. Watch him if he drinks with you, he will get silly. If you like secretly perverted dorks, then take Charles dancing. That man knows how to move.

Skwisgaar would take some major convincing. But when you finally convinced him to take you dancing you didn’t expect what him to be so sensual. Who are you kidding of course you did, but that didn’t stop the shivers from running down your spine anytime he touched you…his hands smoothly covering your hips just so he could hook his thumbs into your belt loops and pull you right where he wanted you… he looked at you like you were the only one on the dance floor, something unspoken behind his eyes—

What was I talking about again-? it would most likely be a while before you could convince him to go out like that again-

Those other goobers are not grooving! 👎👎👎👎

Nathan poor fella can’t carry a rhythm to save his life. The most he could do for you was a slow dance in his room, even then he’d be a little hesitant. Mushy love songs definitely were not brutal. But you liked them…he could pretend for a few minutes just to see you smile.

Toki the lad tries, but I imagine he looks like the freestyle dance teacher! ʰᵉˢ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵉᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ YOUR ˢʰᵒᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ/ᵒʳ ᵗᵒᵉˢ.

The two of you were just fine singing the songs to your hearts content instead!

Murderface straight up refuses. He knows he can’t dance and can’t stand to make a fool of himself around you. The most you’ve ever gotten was a head bop or a foot tap…if you were lucky BOTH!! It’s a shame he’s so stubborn, he’s definitely caught you in the act of dancing around when you thought you were alone, but you looked great when you did it!

[chaosduckies]

has Nathan told Ryker his past and why he’s scared / will he do so?

I am so sorry this has taken me so long to answer- I’ve been meaning to write a short little part, and I’m just glad someone asked me so I could actually get started on it- I hope you enjoy the short piece though!

Word Count: 1.3k

CW: Mentions of Death, slight gore mention,

———Nathan——— 

Today was a nice day. Ryker’s siblings were all at school, I was hanging out with him on the couch, watching a slasher movie. I agreed to start watching horror movies with Ryker since I told myself that I should probably give in to his interests more. Which happens to get over my fears of seeing something I really don’t enjoy. Gore. Death. Basically anything that reminds me of what happened so many years ago. It’s not that the movie itself was scary, it’s just that I hated seeing any kind of blood. Turns out slasher movies are full of it.

So here I was, practically trembling behind a pulled up part of Ryker’s sleeve that I deemed worthy of shielding me from anything that was too terrifying to watch. I still tried to watch as much as I could handle though… which wasn’t much at all but still. I guess Ryker hated the fact that I was struggling to even look up at the screen, so he just turned it off, looking down at me in his palm. I let go of the tight grip I had on his sleeve, staring down sadly. 

“I still don’t understand why you force yourself to watch. I know you don’t like horror.” He slightly tilted his head, searching for an answer. 

“Sorry,” I sighed, still a bit shaken up from what I had just witnessed on the huge screen in front of me, “I just don’t want you to think that I don’t care about your interests.” Ryker shook his head, his signature smile on his face, “I appreciate it, I really do, but if it makes you uncomfortable don’t force yourself.” I nodded, not expecting a gentle touch against my back. I flinched, moving instinctively away. For the first time in what seemed like a while I was, for a split second, afraid of Ryker. I shook my head, shuddering and wondering what had just happened. 

Ryker stared at my with worried eyes, moving his hand away. This was just because I was watching that movie… Yup.

“Everything okay?” 

He slowly brought me closer to his face. I nodded in response, giving the most authentic smile I could muster, “Y-yeah. The movie just got to me I guess.” I stared down at his palm, sighing. Or maybe it was just so much more than that. I don’t know. These past few months I’ve been so happy I haven’t really paid any sort of attention to any of my own thoughts. I haven’t needed to anyways. I was happy now, living a good life with people who care about me. What was there to be sad about? 

I guess I never really did forget about everything that happened before my mom and I were moved over to the city. Of course it hurt to think about, and I’ve never, ever told anyone. Not even my own boyfriend. Maybe I should? Or would it affect our relationship? I don’t want anything to mess it up… I was finally happy. But I don’t think I can just keep it a secret for forever. That stupid horror movie… 

“Ry?” He averted his attention to me, making me slightly feel insecure for a split second. Just like how I felt before we had started talking. I guess he noticed because he offered to let me down on the arm of the couch, but I just shook my head. He probably would have asked why I was so afraid of him before when the rest of the world wouldn’t have reacted the way I did almost all of the time. 

“Would you be mad if I hid something from you?” I winced, expecting him to scream or yell at me, but he just chuckled like that sentence didn’t mean anything, “If you’re hiding something you probably have a good reason. I trust you, so I wouldn’t think anything of it.” 

I bit the bottom of my lip, heart beating slightly fast. What would happen if I told him? I mean I’ve been hiding this from him for what seems like forever. I haven’t really thought about telling him, but now that I’m really thinking about it he probably should know. He was already getting suspicious of me every time he asked about my dad or mentioned where or what I did before I moved to the city. Ryker never asked anything further though. 

“I-I used to live- I don’t even remember,” I laughed burying my face, “I used to live somewhere in the country. We had a small place, I remember having a puppy named Apollo.” Ryker’s eyes went wide, hanging onto every word I spoke. He’s probably been wondering about these kinds of things for who knows how long. 

“A-anyways, it was nice over there, I had just turned seven I think?- When were practically kidnapped from our home and sold off to some really bad people. G-giants were mean” I winced, not looking up anymore, but I could tell Ryker was just as saddened by this as me. He held me a bit closer, not saying a single word and being careful with his actions now. It wasn’t as hard to talk about it with him for some reason, but I still wasn’t really done. 

“They would make my parents do things that got them hurt, they’d force me to play these ‘games’ that nearly had me killed. Part of the reason why I hate cats,” I shuddered at the thought again, painfully remembering the one time I messed up trying to run away when the cat had managed to claw me painfully thinking I was a rat, “My dad and mom tried their best to keep me safe and alive, and one time the people were talking something about killing me or something since I was just a kid, but my dad didn’t like the idea and they- I guess you can figure that one out.” I nearly choked, trying not to place the mental picture in my head. What’d I’d give to see him again. Not on drentched in blood and thrown into the harsh snow outside like some… pest. I started trembling, bringing my knees close to my chest and burying my head. 

“Nate, you know I won’t let anything like that happen to you again, right? I-I mean I’m glad you’re telling me, but that’s just… sick.” He had a disgusted look on his face as he pressed me closer into the fabric of his hoodie. I trusted Ryker. I knew he would never hurt me on purpose. Those other people on the other hand… 

“Y-yeah. I-I know,” I hugged myself closer, “S-so eventually cops came, my mom had forced me to get their help. They moved us here to the hospital in the city, rehabilitated us. I took longer since I was just a kid and my mom was unbelievably strong.” I laughed, missing her. She wouldn’t want me to cry though. She’d say that everything was okay now. My dad would say the same thing. And I knew it was true because I couldn’t be happier. 

“I think about three weeks after they said I was okay to live a ‘normal’ life they enrolled me in school and that’s basically it.” I skipped over a bunch of details, but he doesn’t need to know about any of them. Just the important things. I shouldn’t hav told him, but I probably would have hinted at it eventually. 

There was a long silence over us before Ryker broke it, “Explains why you were always so scared,” he paused for a second, “Everything’s okay now though, right?” 

“Yeah! It’s great.” I smiled, trying to take my mind off of everything I had just finished explaining. 

“I assume you don’t want to finish the movie?” We both laughed. He knows how to handle these kinds of things. I’m grateful for it.  

——————

Nathan would tell Ryker since he wouldn’t want to hide anything from him for so long.

Yeah I’m not sure how I feel about this little piece, but it’s too late now hehe

Thank you anon for asking! I hope you enjoyed it!

(I want to say the movie they’re watching is The Collector, if you’re into horror movies, mmm one of the best ones to watch in my opinion. Just some useless information because why the heck not :3)

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Proposal

Part One of Three Years

Masterlist | Year One

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only.

Length: 4.3K

Notes: ....Hi! This is the first of 2-3 fic drops. I'm hoping to push all five chapters of this fic out this weekend. Also I started writing this before the current AI market explosion. Not beta-read. Never beta-read.

Warnings: Cursing; angst; enemies to enemies who fuck; tech-talk; angst (I know I said it before but really); Nathan being Nathan

Summary: He’s shorter than you thought he’d be.

Nathan Bateman isn’t unattractive, or short, even, he’s just…Shorter. 

Of all of the things that you thought you’d feel about Nathan Bateman’s visit, surprised wasn’t what you thought would be first. Shit-scared, sure. Insanely nervous, absolutely. Surprised by his height? Not on your list.

“This could be huge for us.” 

Jenn looks at once desperate and wild-eyed as she paces in her office. You watch her closely, taking in the dark circles under her dark eyes. Her typically California-tan skin is pallid from her recent late nights, and her days spent indoors. The company is running her ragged—and this potential seed money from Nathan Bateman is throwing her into the craziest tizzy you’ve ever seen. She sweeps her hands through her frizzed auburn hair before she raises her nails to her mouth.

“I mean,” She mutters, continuing to pace, voice muffled as she chews her nails, “If we get Bateman’s backing, that’d be great, but if I can get him on the board.” She stops finally, turning to face you, lowering her chewed nails from her mouth. “That would send us into the fucking stratosphere.” 

“...Okay,” You sit up a touch. You don’t want to be a buzzkill, but you need to bring Jenn down from the fucking stratosphere. “Nathan Bateman has scheduled a meeting. Okay? A meeting. One,” You raise your finger. 

“He’s having his team go over our numbers—” 

“I know that. He’s doing the due diligence that anyone coming in would be expected to do. Just, don’t put all of your eggs in one basket when we haven’t even gotten the basket yet.” 

“Come on,” Jenn groans. “I could be the next Steve Jobs!” 

“Yes, you absolutely could. But if you keep putting your focus on the idea stuff and not on the structure and application stuff, you’re going to be the next Elizabeth Holmes. And honey, I love you, but you do not look good in orange.” 

Jenn deflates just a little, slouching back against the windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling. 

“...It clashes with my hair,” She grumbles. 

“I’m not saying don’t be excited at all," You insist, "I’m just saying…We’re bringing him in to talk about financing. How freaked out would you be if you went on a first date with someone and instead of asking for a second date, they said, Hey this was fun, let’s get married.”

“...Pretty freaked.” 

“Right. And asking someone to join the board is like a business-y 3.5 carat pear cut diamond on an infinity band. So. Let's schedule an All Hands, give the team a heads up, get them prepped. Before that, though, we need to get you some fucking lunch and some sunshine.” 

“You’re my sunshine.” 

“Awww,” You coo before you get up, adding, “Seriously. Get your phone and your sunglasses, we’re going out.” 

“But I have an email from prod—” 

“Production about the user profile settings set to drop at the end of the week. I know, I answered it already. Phone. Sunglasses. Lunch. Let’s go.” 

"You'll be here, right?"

You frown, shaking your head in slight confusion, and Jenn clarifies: "For his tour. You'll be here?"

You consider, glancing at your phone. If you can get the time off—but that's no guarantee.

"I'll try."

--  

When Jenn started Sc(ai)le three years ago, you’d had no idea that it would take off the way it would. You knew that Jenn was brilliant, you’d never had a doubt about that. But you couldn’t have anticipated how quickly varying industries moved to scale AI. Jenn had assembled a team of engineers, scientists, and sales reps. She trusts her teams, and they work hard to keep the company in motion.

But Jenn still insists in being very much hands-on everywhere she possibly can, sometimes to hers and the company’s detriment. She needs a Chief Knowledge officer, a Chief Information officer, and a Chief Marketing officer. She has a Chief Tech officer, a Chief Financial officer, a Chief Compliance officer, a Chief Data officer—all incredibly knowledgeable in their fields. She wants a board, too, but you’re worried that the company may still be too young for it. 

You work with the SVP of Marketing now and again, helping her to manage the way marketing materials are created, where they’re stored, and how they’re distributed. You’re working with Sc(ai)le part-time, on a temporary basis (though it’s technically been ‘temporary’ since the company started). Jenn needs an official team, with people that can work with her full-fucking-time. You have a full-time job at a separate tech company, one that’s well away from the AI space. You’d been worried their hackles would be raised when you informed them that you’d be taking a part-time position elsewhere, but they hadn’t even flinched. 

Hell, your manager had asked you if you’d be able to get them an employee discount. You may just have to take a few days off for Bateman’s visit.

You don’t blame Jenn for being so excited, or so nervous. 

Nathan fucking Bateman? This is huge. 

But if both of you have your heads in the fucking clouds, neither of you are gonna make it out of orbit. So you’ll keep yourself grounded, and bring Jenn back down to Earth if you absolutely have to. 

-- 

He’s shorter than you thought he’d be.

Nathan Bateman isn’t unattractive, or short, even, he’s just…Shorter. 

Of all of the things that you thought you’d feel about Nathan Bateman’s visit, surprised wasn’t what you thought would be first. Shit-scared, sure. Insanely nervous, absolutely. Surprised by his height? Not on your list.

You glance over at Jenn to find her tipping her chin up, slapping on her I Should Be On the Cover of Forbes smile. It’s the smile that’s brought every other investor on board. It’s the smile that’s brought on every single team member in the company. Now, you can only hope that it’ll bring Nathan Bateman into her coffers.

Where you’d typically leave Jenn to finesse any other investor, you stick close by. You trail Bateman and Jenn by a few steps as she directs him around the offices, and the facility. 

He asks a fair number of questions. A few are unexpected, but for the most part, they’re things that you and Jenn had anticipated. The three of you come to a stop overlooking a row of engineers. You don’t want to appear nonchalant, but with Bateman and Jenn focused elsewhere, you allow yourself to lean back against the wall, eyeing the room. It’s then that you see an engineer flagging you down, a harried look on her face. You glance toward Bateman and Jenn’s heads and make sure they’re distracted before you push yourself off of the wall, skirting around the two and walking over to her as calmly as possible. 

“What’s up?” You ask, crouching down beside the engineer’s desk. 

“The marketing team sent through a brief about the user profiles—” 

“Uh-huh—” 

“And there’s an error regarding the, uh—The functionality.” 

“Okay. Where’s the problem, what’s the fix?” 

“Our systems are starting at Mac- or Blue-OS compatible.” 

“But not Windows?” 

“Most of the companies we use don’t touch Windows OS anymore.” 

“But we have got a few clients that do.” 

“Yes, we’re—We’re working on it. But this can’t go out like this, it’s not correct.” 

“Okay,” You nod, mind racing through the possible, necessary fixes. “Okay. Could I use your laptop for a second?” 

“Sure.” 

The engineer starts to stand, but you wave her back into her seat, just turn the laptop toward yourself. You hurriedly log into your email on a web page, and tap out an email to the marketing SVP. 

“Mac and Blue only,” You reiterate as you type. 

“—But not Windows, yep.” 

“Do we have an expected date on Windows functionality?” 

“Q2 of next year—Maybe Q1, but—” 

“We don’t wanna over-promise and underdeliver,” You shoot the engineer a smile. “I appreciate the honesty.” 

The engineer nods hurriedly. You feel her casting a glance behind you, but you’re already turning back to the laptop, practically hammering the keys as you send out the message. You lean back, reading and rereading the message before you CC your work email, Jenn’s, and the engineer in question. Then you send it, straighten up, and sign out of the email. 

“I’ve put myself and Jenn on the email, we will take it from here. Thank you so much for flagging that—And if anything comes up, please text, email, slack me. Anything.” 

“Thank you!” 

“No, thank you,” You insist, patting her shoulder. You straighten and turn, and freeze immediately at the sight of Jenn and Bateman standing just behind you. You swallow thickly, fighting to keep a straight face. 

“I didn’t mean to hold up the tour,” You apologize. “You guys could’ve moved on, I would’ve caught up.” 

“Everything alright?” Bateman asks, nodding toward the engineer. 

“Yes. Just a little communications update.” You give them both a reassured smile. “Why don’t we continue?” You add, nodding down the hall. 

--  

“What are you doing for dinner tomorrow?” 

It’s a question that he should be asking Jenn, and that’s why your mouth works wordlessly, your brow furrowing heavily. It’s a bad look—Nathan Bateman has asked you a simple question, and you’re floundering like a landed fish. 

“Uh—Shoving something in the microwave, probably?” You manage with a shaky laugh as you put your laptop into your bag. You haven't been able to take the time off as much time as you’d hoped, and you’ll have to make up what time you have taken to keep yourself on track. “I’m working a double, so, I’ll get off shift around one in the morning.” 

“A double.” 

“...Yes? It’s when you work two shifts at—” 

“I know what a double is.” 

Jeez, of course he does. 

“Right. Sorry. You seemed—...Anyway.” 

“I seemed what?” 

Confused is the wrong word to use with this man. 

“Inquisitive?” You offer. Nathan’s brows tip impossibly higher, his chin angling down to gaze at you over the tops of his glasses. 

“One,” He finally confirms. “How’s 1:30 for you?” 

“For what?” 

“For dinner.” 

“I—I don’t think I’ve ever eaten dinner that late in my life. I don’t even go out that late anymore.” 

“But you’ll make an exception?” 

“Do I have to?” 

When he smiles, you know that you will have to. 

“I’ll send you the details.” 

That’s it. He breezes away from your desk space. He doesn’t offer to walk you to your car; he doesn’t ask you any questions about what you want to eat, or what you like to eat. He just walks away. You look after him for a moment before you look down, taking up your laptop chord and wrapping it with a mutter of, 

“Dinner at 1:30 in the morning? Not in fucking college anymore…What’s even gonna be open that late for fucking dinner?” 

You think, and then giggle. 

Maybe Nathan Bateman is going to take you to McDonald’s. 

--  

“You ever been here before?” 

“Uhh…” You peer down at the menu. It’s timeworn, and splattered with what look like gravy stains. At least—well, you hope it’s gravy. “Nope, can’t say I have.” 

The diner has a vintage bent to it. The seats are all coated in robin’s egg blue vinyl; the floor is tiled like a checkerboard; the walls are pepto-pink. There’s a jukebox in the corner, but the oldies being played in the diner are coming from a few recessed speakers in the ceiling. You glance up again as you hear Bateman shifting in his seat. He’s lounging back in his seat like he owns the damn place. 

…Maybe he does own the damn place. 

It could explain why they’re open so late, at least. There are a few other people in the diner, a ways away. Now and again, an explosive swell of cackling laughter will pass over your way before one of their party hurries to hush them. You glance back curiously as you hear one of them add, 

“Dude, you’re gonna get us kicked out again.” 

“So how long have you known Jenn?” Bateman asks. 

“Oh, gosh,” You turn back to him. “Since Kindergarten. She’s my oldest friend.” 

“You two seemed pretty close during the tour yesterday.” 

“Did we?” 

“Insomuch as you were her shadow.” 

You close your mouth, reaching for your water. You had shadowed because Jenn had asked—but you’re in no position to quibble with this man. You’ve no need, either; he goes on: 

“How was your double?” 

“It was fine.” 

“What are you working on?” 

“I work at a company that produces technical books and longform guides for—” 

“I know where you work, that wasn’t my question. What are you working on.” 

The bored, irritated tone in his voice raises your hackles, and it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. But you swallow your annoyance in favor of giving a straightforward answer: “Right now, a quantum software engineering roadmap.” 

“Are you enjoying it?” 

“The writing can be a little dry, but the subject matter is interesting.” 

“Hm…” Bateman nods, his eyes sweeping your face curiously. You fight the urge to shift or fidget under the scrutiny of his gaze. 

Can you ask questions? Are you allowed? Why does this man make you feel like you’re in a damn interview? Your gazes break as a waitress comes over, a pad in hand and an expectant smile on her face. You instinctively offer her one in return as you order. You don’t really hear what Bateman orders; you’re too busy wracking your mind for things that came up on yesterday’s tour—pain points, questions that Jenn promised she’d get back to him on. 

“So,” Bateman’s voice snaps your focus back to him, and you arch your brows as you meet his eyes again. “In your opinion, what’s the company lacking?” 

It’s a slap of a question. Your brows manage to inch higher. Oh…God. No wonder he didn’t want to do this with Jenn around.

“Uh…” Is your initial succinct answer. You clear your throat, taking your glass up for another sip, gathering yourself. You could say that Jenn has everything she needs, save for capital. You could say that the team is rowing as one one, your little unsinkable ship, the Sc(ai)le. 

But Nathan Bateman is a genius, and a billionaire, and a man with a low tolerance for bullshit. 

“She needs a complete C-Suite,” You admit firmly as you set your glass aside. “She needs a solid, knowledgeable team behind her. We’re doing the best that we can now, and the Chief positions that she has filled are pushing the company in the right direction, but the ones that she doesn’t are slowing down growth. We need a CMO and a CKO and a CIO, like...Yesterday. We have a lot of data, and we have a lot of marketing materials—and the seniors VPs in those positions are doing the best they can, but you can only fill a leaky bucket so many times before the handle breaks. The company doesn’t have the capital to bring those positions on, and until it does, the company’s going to continue to grow at half-speed because the plane’s being flown while it's still being built."

Bateman doesn’t react for a moment. His silence makes your stomach twist with nerves; your palms are sweating. 

“I didn’t think you’d say that,” He finally says. You can’t help but laugh a little. 

“Look—I could tell you that we’re all one happy family, and that the only thing wrong is the fact that bluebirds don’t land on our shoulders and code for us—” Your stomach flips as Bateman’s lips twitch with a smile, “But you’ve already been inside. You’ve looked through our books, you’ve seen the facility. And if you’re going to go in on investment, you’re going to see the dirty laundry anyway. I may as well show you where the hamper is.” 

“You like your metaphors.” 

“It’s the writer in me.” 

Bateman’s brow quirks a touch as he nods. 

“...Why aren’t you full time?” He asks. That question throws you for a loop. You shake your head a little—like it’ll knock an answer loose. But the answer—the truth—is that you and Jenn haven’t worked well together in the past. Sure, you’re part-time now, but you hardly ever interfere with her day-to-day unless it’s to coax her out of her office to get some air or a meal. You prefer to take your time with a project, and Sc(ai)le is in a growth period where time is of the essence. 

“...It’s not…” You start, brow furrowing as you grapple for a reasonable answer, “What Sc(ai)le does, it isn’t what I do.” 

“The company has technical writers.” 

“...Yeah—” 

“It needs someone that knows how to compile the information, translate it for the average consumer—” 

“But—” 

“Just tell me they can’t afford you.”  

Your chest twinges with indignation. 

“That’s not true,” You insist. 

“So they can afford you.” 

“That’s not what I—” 

“Which one is it?” 

“You’re twisting my words, and I don’t appreciate that.” It leaves you more harshly than it should, and you damn your tone immediately. There’s no way scolding this man is gonna bring him on board. You realize that your shoulders have scrunched defensively and risen toward your ears, and you force yourself to relax them. But Nathan’s lips just twitch again, his eyes bright with amusement. 

“...Why aren’t you full-time?” He repeats. 

“I told you. This isn’t what I do.” 

“It could be.” 

You don’t want to make the concession, but the look on Bateman’s face tells you that he’s got you pinned. So you give a small, begrudging nod. 

“Hypothetically.” 

His smile widens at your confirmation. You want to smack him. 

But that really won’t bring him on board. 

--  

You expect Jenn to grill you for your time with Nathan the second you get in, but she’s grabbing your hand and hissing, “He’s here, and he’s waiting.” 

“What?” You ask dazedly, pulling your sleeve back to eye the watch face where it rests on the inside of your wrist. “He’s not supposed to be here for another two hours! I didn’t see an email—”

“He didn’t send one! He just showed up!”

You pull Jenn to a stop in the hall, slowing her with a gentle, “Whoa, whoa—Okay. Look at me.” 

Jenn stops, eyes wide, head shaking minutely as she tries to continue walking toward the conference room, insisting, “We’re already late—” 

“Slow down!” You urge. She looks stricken, and you immediately feel guilty. You take her hand in yours, giving it a squeeze before drawing in a deep breath. Jenn hesitantly does the same, pushing it out when you do. You draw in another, and are relieved as she copies you, some of the tension melting from her face as she closes her eyes. You watch her pull in and push out one more deep breath before she opens her eyes slowly, nodding. 

“Thank you,” She breathes, patting your hand before she tugs down the hall again. 

--  

“I like what I’m seeing.” 

Bateman’s assertion shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. Sc(ai)le is a good company, something that would make sense in his portfolio. But he’s so steady and calm as he peers out of the office of Jenn’s window. 

You don’t like how he’s commandeered the space behind her desk. She shouldn’t be sitting on the other side of it with you; she should be behind it, with him—or he should be on your side. 

Still, Nathan pushes himself off of the window, turning to face Jenn. His gaze flickers to you before he looks down at something laid out on the desk. 

“Your initial proposal was…Whadda we got here…” Bateman tuts as he turns a page. You think he must be dragging it out for suspense—there’s no way he doesn’t have those numbers memorized. Sure, it must be chump change to him, but it’s still a big fucking number. “One million for a fifteen percent stake in the company.” 

“That’s right,” Jenn nods. 

“I’ll give you four.” 

“...Four?” Jenn repeats dazedly. 

“Four million for what percent?” You ask before she can leap up, kiss the man on the lips, and accept. 

“Fifteen,” Bateman affirms. Your eyes narrow at him. This doesn’t feel right. He adds, “I have one condition, though.” 

“Name it,” Jenn nods. You glance at her nervously. You’re certain that if he told her to strip naked and run through the office covered in spray cheese, she’d do it right this second. 

“You come on as CKO, CIO, and CMO.”

Your brow furrows as Jenn turns to you. Who comes on? Jenn? She’s already CEO for fuckssake—

And then Jenn turns to you, eyes wide and insistent as she nods toward Bateman. Your head snaps to him, stunned. He’s waiting with that same patient, bored expression that he'd given you with all throughout dinner. 

“You want me to take on three C-Suite positions?” You ask, brows raising. “Are you that strapped for cash that you won’t spring for two more people?” 

Jenn hisses your name in warning. You know it’s the wrong thing to say, but to your surprise, Bateman just smiles and leans against Jenn’s desk. 

“Hear me out,” He waves your irritation off. “I want to roll the positions of CKO and CIO into one. Chief Knowledge and Information officer.” 

“And add Chief Marketing officer on top of them.” 

“That’s right. You’re much quicker on the uptake than you were the other night. No, it’s alright—I’m sure the double shift and the late dinner had you off your game.” 

You want to argue, but Nathan is already turning his attention to Jenn. 

“Four mill for a fifteen percent stake,” He reiterates before nodding toward you. “And her.” 

What would Jenn get if you didn’t come on? One million at fifteen? Two million at thirty? Nothing at all? You can’t bring yourself to look at Jenn just now—you know you’re getting a pleading expression. So you keep your eyes on Bateman, and his expectant expression. He knows he’s got you backed into a corner. 

“...Does this condition have a term limit?” You ask. Bateman purses his lips, seeming to think for a moment. Then he levels you with an ungodly answer:

“Three years.” 

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. You only just manage not to double over with it. Three years. Three years inhabiting two positions that you never wanted or asked for. Three years working with your oldest friend on her passion project, knowing that you will lock horns on approach. Three years of Nathan Bateman hanging over your head. 

You can’t face Jenn. One look at those hopeful, doe-like eyes and you’re going to fold like a house of cards. You can’t look at Bateman. One look at him and you’re going to lunge in, slap him silly, and ask what the fuck is wrong with him. 

You look down at your lap. 

Three years. Three years or what? Nathan pulls his backing? Asks for repayment? That could level the company, and everything that Jenn has worked for would disappear overnight. 

Three years. 

You don’t ask about the pay. You don’t care about that. You’re not doing badly as it is. Two C-Suite positions (well, three) would surely pay you more than you make now, but still. 

Three years. 

You’ve been considering leaving your current job. You’ve been chugging along happily, though you’ve started to get too settled, too bored. Too complacent. But you've been ducking away from management positions at job after job because you just don't want to be in charge of people. You want to be fully in the action, working on the words, not floating above them and giving them a thumbs up or a thumbs down. This isn’t like anything you’d consider throwing yourself into. 

Three years. 

This is bigger than you and Jenn. Pumping more money into this company would give Sc(ai)le the chance to expand its staff, upgrade it's tech, bring on a more comprehensive QA team.

You draw in a deep breath, giving a small hesitant nod. 

“Alright,” Leaves your mouth before you can talk yourself out of it. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Bateman bats back without missing a beat. You can hear a note of triumph there, one that makes you want to reach into his throat and rip out his layrnx. Jenn is springing out of her seat, pumping Bateman’s hand enthusiastically and telling him that he won’t regret it. You’re staring down at your hands, your head and chest feeling hollow, like you’ve just been jailed for three consecutive life sentences. 

Three years. 

Bateman’s hand enters your field of vision, outstretched and patient. You eye it for a moment. 

You could still tell him to go fuck himself. But you glance up at Jenn, and find her beaming down at you. Her eyes are bright with joyful tears; her hands are clasped to keep from visibly shaking. 

You can’t tell him to go fuck himself, and he knows it.

So you suck in a deep breath and raise your hand, shaking Bateman’s without meeting his gaze. 

“We should grab a drink to celebrate,” He insists. You let go of his hand and push yourself up shakily. 

“I—Have some things I need to sort out. You two go on,” You add, slapping on an encouraging smile and turning to Jenn. 

“Sure,” Bateman concedes. “You have a letter of resignation to write.” 

You pat Jenn’s shoulder on the way out, hardly meeting Bateman's eye as you go. You get into your car, and drive back to your apartment. You mechanically unlock your door, drop your keys in the bowl by the entryway, kick your door shut. You don’t bother to turn the lights on. The sun is streaming in through your front window with a vengeance. You walk over to your bar cart and take up a bottle of whiskey. You don’t bother with a glass. You just plop into your favorite armchair and curl up. You don’t cry. You don’t scream. You just stare blankly at the wall. 

Three years. 

Next Part: Year One

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ;  @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @aellynera ; @writefightandflightclub ; @thedukeofcaladan ; @beepboopyoda ; @foxilayde ; @revolution-starter ; @rachelwritesstuff ; @queen-of-elves

[nathanbatemanfucker]

hi bb, hope you're doing well ❤️

for those prompts, if you feel so inspired, might i request nathan + envelope? please and thank you 🙏😘💖

Skittish

about this: nathan bateman x reader. prompt: envelope. contents: a lot of swearing, angst w/ happy ending, love confessions, kissing. wc: 600ish. not beta’d.

There’s a thick, white envelope sat on top of your duffle bag. Insane, how much time you’ve spent holed up in this compound with Nathan, and still all your belongings left here could fit into such a small bag. Insane, but not unexpected. Not when even in your closest, sweetest moments part of him was still holding you at arm’s length. He watches you as you take it in, pick it up.

You tilt your head at him, holding it up. It’s heavy. Something in your stomach sours, though you hold out hope that it isn’t what you think it is. “What’s this?”

“Money. Lots of it. For all your troubles,” Nathan nearly sneers the last word, his eyes glued to where your fingers hold the envelope.

You blink at him, before frowning. You can feel your eyes burning, but you won’t cry. Not for this, not for his attempts at pushing you away.

“My troubles? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding?”

You throw the envelope at the floor with force, the thud of it hitting the carpet sounding through the room. “I don’t want your money, Nathan. Fuck you for thinking that.”

He holds up his hands, rolling his eyes at you and your righteousness, “Yeah, fuck me. I’m the big bad wolf. I fuck up everything I touch— I get it. Just take the money and go.”

“I don’t want the fucking money. I never have.”

“Whatever.”

“And— and you don’t fuck up everything you touch. You fuck up everything you’re afraid of,” You say firmly, taking a step towards him.

Nathan’s gaze falters for a moment before it goes steely again. He takes a step towards you too, his voice low and full of venom. “Why the hell would I be afraid of you? You have nothing to hold over me. No one does, I’m untouchable.”

If this is the game he wants to play, then you’ll match his energy.

You close the small gap left between you, pointing at his chest— at his heart. “You’re afraid of me because I love you. I love you, even though you're a skittish, self absorbed fuckhead and you’re terrified to love me back.”

He scoffs, but he’s losing some of his fire. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. It is right. I’m right this time, not you. I don’t want to hear your snide remarks, or your fucking facts or anything you have to say for that matter unless it’s going to be the fucking truth. So what’s it gonna be Nathan, can you rise to the challenge or have you finally met a task that’s too much for you?”

“You think you’re gonna turn us saying I love you into an accomplishment?”

“You started it. Can you finish it?”

His eyes narrow for a handful of moments, but then he softens— like he does when you’re tucked in his arms while steeped in the bath. Softens like he does when he’s tucking you in. When he’s telling you how good you’re being for him.

“Fine. Fucking fine. Alright, for fucks sake, I love you. Are you happy?”

“I don’t know, Nathan— are you?”

“I…I think I could be. If you…if you ever forgive me,” He grits out, as if admitting his wrongdoings is causing him enough pain to pass out.

“I think forgiveness comes after a person says sorry, and if I’m correct— again, might I add— you haven’t said sorry.”

“You gonna spend the rest of your life’s busting my fucking balls, honey?”

“You think I’ll stay around that long?” You tease.

“Nathan reaches for you then, tickling mercilessly at your stomach until you’re breathless and begging for reprieve. He stops, but doesn’t give you a chance to take in much air because this his mouth is on yours, kissing you with a reverence that floors you. When he pulls away you’re dizzy, your eyes cloudy and full of love. God, he’s the luckiest fucking man on earth.

He smirks at how soft and wonderous you look. “Yeah, you’ll stick around.”

[writefightandflightclub]

What’s Mine is Yours Mine: Nathan Bateman x fem!reader

Summary: Nathan has a present for you…

A/n: shameless smut / half-developed PWP I found kicking around in my drafts while I’m having a declutter. I’m getting too in my head about posting smut on here these days, so I thought I’d just bite the bullet and put this out there. Don’t look at me 😅 Originally was going to be part of a larger thing which is why I haven’t posted until now, but I’ll simply leave the rest to your imagination 😉

Warnings / ratings: 18+, explicit, minors do not interact. Dom/sub dynamics, collar, oral sex / throat fuck, mentions of choking. All consensual. Fairly mild compared to some stuff I’ve posted in the past. LOL.

“Come here,” Nathan purrs darkly, and the lust-laden, commanding tone of his voice is eminently familiar. Your muscle memory responds before you do, and you’re already turning towards him before you consciously respond, so used to obliging him by now.

Whatever he’s about to offer, you’re already interested - you can tell from his voice alone.

“What for?”

When you see the look in his eyes, you throw a little sex into your walk, swaying those hips of yours. Slinking over towards him.

“Got something for you,” he explains, moving to sit on the couch, his thick thighs spread wide apart and straining against those slacks of his.

“What is it?”

“Kneel down and maybe I’ll show you.”

You do. You oblige him, your knees settling into the plush rug as you settle in between his spread legs.

“Close your eyes.”

You do, and your heart hammers in anticipation. You reach out for clues, noting he is moving to grab something. You hear a subtle jangle. Something like a buckle. You wonder if he’s liberating himself, hard already, but in the next moment, you feel a sensation like cool leather at your neck.

A collar? You’d been asking for one, and now he’s spoiling you. A flood of heat travels right to your crotch as Nathan’s nimble fingers fasten it around you, deftly threading leather through buckle, until your neck is straining just right against the subtle tightness of it.

Your eyes remain obediently closed, but you hear Nathan hum in satisfaction. “There. Mmm hmm. That’s it.”

Sensing he is done, you open your eyes. You can’t see yourself but you can feel it. The slight tension and give of the collar bracing against your neck as you swallow. Your fingertips come up so you can explore the texture of it, seeking out the cool metal of the “o” ring right in the centre. You know without seeing that the leather is blood red, to match your wrist and ankle cuffs. You know Nathan wouldn’t give you anything but the best.

A devilish smile blooms over your face, and your eyes devour Nathan. Even while you are the submissive, you feel very much in control of where this is going.

“Christ. Jesus. Fuck.” Nathan praises as he drinks the sight of you in like this.

It’s not just the physical feeling of being dominated. The loss of control. More so, it’s the satisfaction that comes from Nathan wanting to “own” you. Knowing how badly he wants to make you his. That he chose you for this, and so much for besides.

“Oh,” you purr. “You like that? Like how I look?”

“You look so…” His fingers skim over your collar, up and down your throat.

“So what, Nathan?”

“So… mine.” His final word is practically a growl. A greedy sound.

“I am. Yours.”

“Yeah? You are?”

Your heavy gaze drops down to his crotch, where you note he is already swelling, a sizeable erection tenting beneath his pants. “Mmm,” you affirm, the sound drawn out and syrupy, hinting at the way you might sound if he treats you nicely. If he makes you feel good.

The pad of Nathan’s thumb brushes along your lower lip, the ghost of a touch. Your breath hitches in your throat, reminding you of the collar as it strains against your neck. Reminding you you’re his. That you belong to him. That he wants you to. Needs you to. “Is this mouth mine?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

You know what he wants. You open up for him, and he abruptly shoves two fingers over your tongue, sliding them all the way to the back of your throat until you gag on them. He tastes like barbell metal. You love it. You hate it. Abruptly, he does it again, his gaze flitting all over your face, awed by your compliance.

“Hnnnnnng,” he praises, shifting himself forward, until he is perched on the very lip of the couch, bringing the straining mass of him closer to your mouth. His thighs box you in, and a smugness drags over his mouth as he reaches out to you, wrapping both of his warm, broad hands around your feeble throat, no doubt feeling your racing pulse beneath his caress.

“Mmm,” he hums again, the sound almost involuntary in his throat - like a pre-programmed command - as he adjusts and settles his fingers one by one, curling them around your neck and that pretty collar. From the sounds he’s making, you have no doubt that the way you lean into it rather than shying away will have his dick throbbing hard and full in his pants. The way you push him for more, his touch far too gentle; for now.

Nathan’s gaze is obsidian by now, blown-out pupils engulfing bark-brown as he reads the dirty heat blazing in your eyes. He doesn’t squeeze yet. Not really. In fact, he kisses you, dragging you to his lips with his hands still folded around your throat in an unfulfilled promise.

The kiss is hungry but restrained, and it only leaves you wanting more.

Nathan shifts then, moving one hand to his crotch, threading leather through belt loops as he finally liberates himself. He bucks his hips slightly forward and you’re so close. So close to having him in your mouth.

You can smell him, musk and salt and skin. You tongue darts out, in anticipation of tasting him.

“You know what to do, Princess.” His tone is dripping with condescension now, but it turns you on. Makes you feel safe, even. “Go slow, don’t strain yourself.”

You part your lips, readying to sink down on his appealing, veined length, the head of him flushed purple with want.

You want him; but you know how to get him.

You hesitate, and then, impatient, desperate, needy Nathan grabs you by the collar at the nape of your neck and shoves you down on him, surging up and into your throat.

This time you don’t even gag. He can use you all he wants - you like it when he does.

You work your lips and tongue along his length, enjoying the way Nathan uses the collar to drag you off of him when it gets too much. When he gets too close to coming undone. You enjoy the pressure you feel around your neck. In your throat. Enjoy the way him filling you up squeezes tears out of the corners of your eyes.

“Who do you belong to?” Nathan stutters darkly, when your mouth has him holding on by a thread, as thin and delicate as the spit trails linking your lips to his cock.

“I’m yours, Nathan,” you sing-song obediently, and with a groan he shoves back into you, every pulse of his cum down your throat showing you how much he loves that you belong to him.

“Mine,” he growls, his hips bucking up into your mouth as he spills himself for you. “All mine.”

Funny - you think, as you eagerly swallow down the salt tang of him. You even think Nathan enjoyed your present just as much as you did. Maybe even a little more, so far; but you know it won’t be long before he evens out that score.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Little Earthquakes - Chapter Seven.

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,525

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Minors DNI!

It had been two weeks since she’d seen Nathan, Holly beginning to wonder whether she’d done something wrong. At first, he’d had to cancel their planned Friday night date out of busyness, promising to see her the following week. It had been a promise yet to materialise a further week on from then, her messages beginning to go unanswered, too.  

Her natural reaction was to wonder whether he was going off her, perhaps realising this casual dating thing they had wasn’t for him after all, but didn’t really know how to come out and tell her that. This truly wasn’t on brand for the kind of guy he was, though. As he’d said right from the start, he was straight up, he didn’t mess people around, and she believed that. However, this was odd behaviour, and it definitely negated his words. 

Either way, she wouldn’t chase after him. The ball was now in his court, Holly carrying on with her life. She couldn’t deny it, though. She missed him. 

“I think I’ve been ghosted.” 

Kate paused from dipping a tortilla chip into the sour cream between them, gaping ever so slightly. “From Nathan?” It was hard to hear, given how into her friend he’d seemed, both witnessing it herself and from hearing Holly’s gushing over how lovely he was. 

“Yeah. He's stopped replying to messages. I haven’t heard anything from him for five days now. Not sure what to do, other than leave the ball in his court, y’know.” It was Friday night, and she and Kate were having a few snacks before going out to meet up with a couple of their old friends from uni, sitting on the latter’s sofa watching a few episodes of Gogglebox.  

“That’s, well. That’s strange, hun. He’s been so into you over the last two and a half months, all I’ve heard from you is how lovely he is and what a good time you guys are having together. Are you sure he’s not just busy?” 

Her darling Kate. She always sought the best in people before jumping to the worst conclusions. “He said that,” she replied, scooping salsa onto the chip and popping it into her mouth with a loud crunch. “It’s the fact he isn’t messaging me back, though. I’m just being left on read.” 

Kate’s face was a picture of surprise. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, men can be so bloody useless, can’t they? They don’t understand the urgency of replying to messages like we do, don’t realise our minds start going to the ‘but what if he doesn’t like me’ place more or less straight away. I mean, sometimes that’s just who they are. Hell, I’d never hold my breath waiting for the lummox to return a Whatsapp. I’d die!” 

“I heard that!” 

“You were meant to!” she shouted in the direction of the kitchen, Greg, her husband poking his head around the door with a huge grin. “I think leaving the ball in his court is the best idea. If he gets in touch, great. If he doesn’t, then we need to apply the Miranda Hobbes adage to the situation, tough as it might be to hear.” 

As two die hard Sex and the City fans, she knew exactly what Kate referenced. It was tough, too, to have to reconcile that Nathan might just not be that into her. Whenever they were together, he acted anything but. He was affectionate and attentive, which made his radio silence even more baffling to fathom.  

Kate’s usual no nonsense advice was probably the truth she needed to hear, though, no matter how much she pined for Nathan. If he wasn’t into her, then that was just the way it was. At thirty-four, she was beyond waiting around for a man. She wouldn’t let herself hang around in the fringes of his life while he decided whether or not he truly wanted to bring her into it properly.  

They met up with their friends a couple of hours later, sitting outside at a bar in Marylebone, enjoying the bright summer evening. It was just as Kate was recounting a hilarious story of Greg and a decorating mishap that had led him to end up walking right off the end of a wallpaper pasting table that Holly’s phone beeped, unlocking the screen and feeling her heart quicken in an instant. 

“Cutie!!! I’m so pissing sorry I’ve been MIA! Been up to my ears in work :( I know, I’m a bad man and you have full permission to smack my arse for not replying to you. I’d love to meet up with you tonight if you’re free?xx’ 

Part of her wanted to let him stew for a while, make herself unavailable, but she didn’t really go in for those kinds of game playing tactics. He’d offered an explanation and apology. Surely, that was good enough? 

“I’m out with some old uni friends right now. I’ve missed you, too. It’s nice to hear from you. I can meet tomorrow, if you like?xx” 

Immediately, she saw that he was typing a reply. 

“Nah, where are you? Really want to see you now! Can’t cope with another day and no Holly!!xx” 

“Girls, would any of you mind having a man crash our evening? Nathan, the guy I’m dating just messaged to ask,” she inquired, her friends’ faces all lighting up. 

“Is he cute?” Trina asked. Going to her camera roll, she located a picture of her and Nathan, turning the screen. A few little coos abounded, seeing the image of them standing all cuddled up in her back garden she’d taken a few weeks prior. “He is! Tell him yes! Oh, look at his hair, wow!” 

Wendy then chimed in, taking a look. “Hmm, not my type, but I don’t mind!” 

“So, he finally gets in touch,” Kate spoke, giving her a little elbow nudge. “See? Told you he was probably just busy.” Turning to the group, she continued. “Wait until you see them together. They’re so adorable! He’s such a sweetie.”  

“Very different from your usual type, though!” Penny, the third of the group announced, Holly tapping out a quick message to let him know where she was. 

“I know, he really is. But he’s bloody gorgeous and so sweet, too.”  

Kate snorted into her cocktail glass. “The seven-inch pierced cock doesn’t hurt either.” 

Much screaming and whooping followed, Holly hiding her face.  

“Oh, my life!” Trina cried, clasping her hands together. “What does it feel like?” 

“Exactly as you’d imagine,” she revealed. “As do the two studs in his tongue.” More screaming. “I am telling you, that man is an absolute god in bed.” And yes, a little more screaming after that as the girls all descended into hysteria.  

Reading his reply, she saw he’d be with them in just over half an hour, Holly going to get him a beer before sitting there fizzing with excitement that she finally got to see him again after two long weeks and no lovely man.  

She was in the middle of hearing Trina speak about her very interesting day at her gallery when two tattooed arms folded around her from behind, a flurry of kisses pressed to her cheek.  

“Missed you, gorgeous!” he announced loudly, vaulting over the barrier that bordered the outside area of the bar. “Alright, ladies!”  

“Hello, Nathan,” they all chimed as he picked up the pint of beer waiting for him, thanking Holly, and then promptly downing it. 

“Crapping hell, Nath!” she exclaimed as he placed the empty glass down again. 

“I was thirsty.” Pausing, he then burped discreetly, beaming a grin. “Excuse me. Right, what’s that mad looking brown stuff in there that you’re all drinking?” 

“An urban bourbon cowboy,” Wendy revealed, snort laughing at the confused look on his face. 

“An urban, bour... whaty, what, what?” 

The women all descended into laughter. “An urban bourbon cowboy!” Kate spoke for him again, having him move to give her a big hug and a kiss, almost knocking her from her chair with his enthusiasm. Something told her he’d probably already had a few drinks before arriving with them. He seemed a little more live wire than usual.  

He looked to Holly, shaking his head. “I ain’t ever gonna remember that, nah. Come help me, I’ll get a round in.” They returned after a few minutes, Nathan placing down two large pitchers of cocktails on the table, the women thanking him, charmed by his generosity. He took a seat, welcoming Holly onto his lap, his hand beginning to smooth up her thigh as he reached for one of the two pints she’d carried out for him.  

“Seriously, I really missed you, baby.” He kissed the side of her neck, grinning at her adoringly, Holly feeling her insides melt. Baby. He’d never called her that before.  

“So then, how did you meet our lovely friend here, Nathan?” Trina asked, the man himself taking a big swig of beer before placing the glass back on the table. His head was buzzed already from the amount of vodka he’d drunk while over in Ealing, hanging out with the guys from the MC that night before deciding he really, really wanted to see Holly. 

“We were in the same class at school,” he began, “and I always fancied her but never had the courage to ask her out. Then she came into my shop and I did the tattoo on her leg, and it all went from there.” 

A few coos resounded at hearing that. “Well, you both look very in tune with one another. She’s been singing your praises.”  

“Oh yeah?” he asked, watching Holly suddenly snort with laughter and hide her face against his neck. “Ahh. I know what you told your friends! She’s been telling you about a certain piercing I’ve got, ain’t she?” 

Snorts of laughter filled the air, Kate holding up her hand. “Nope, that was me!” 

He couldn’t help himself. “I’ll show you, if you want?” 

“You wouldn’t,” Trina teased him, leaning across the table with a big grin. 

He matched her lean, grinning widely. “How much do you wanna bet I wouldn’t?” 

“Nathan, calm down,” Holly warned, moving his hand when he went to unfasten his jeans. 

“Get up a minute,” he spoke, patting her thigh. He wasn’t serious?  

“Nath, stop!” she cried, grasping his jaw and turning his head to kiss him, hopefully distracting him. God, he was certainly amped up more than usual.  

He chuckled filthily. “Alright, I’ll stop, I'll stop.” He then looked right at Trina. “When she goes to the loo, I’ll show you then, sweetheart.” He winked, accompanying it with a little click of his tongue, sending the women into hysterics. “So, all of you went to UAL too then, yeah?” 

They confirmed yes, Nathan seeming to settle and calm down as he asked into their respective careers, being attentive, listening to what each of them revealed. As he did, Holly felt her insides unclench a little after being so taken by surprise at his slightly altered behaviour. He could be a little frisky when he’d had a drink, as could she, but honestly, she was the only thing that had stopped him from revealing himself right there in public. It was very unlike him to act in such a way. 

They continued having a good night together, Holly slowing down her alcohol intake a little while he sped his up, everything fine until another behaviour she wasn’t used to seeing in him manifested itself. 

“Oi mate!” a man from the next table called, attracting his attention. “How the fuck did a skinny, scruffy, tattooed fuck like you manage to get a girl like her?” 

Immediately, his brows furrowed, Holly answering before he did. “Being bloody lovely, is how he did.”  

“Don’t think much of your taste, love,” the man remarked, obviously spoiling for something. 

“And I don’t think much of your mouth, bruv,” Nathan spoke, glaring at him. “Unless you want it cut to fucking pieces on a glass, I’d watch it if I was you, you gobby fucking gammon cunt.”  

“Oi, don’t threaten me, sunshine,” the man pointed, “just having a laugh with ya, yeah?” 

“I ain’t stupid, you prick. Nah, fuck that. Weren’t a threat either, it was a promise.”  

The man lunged, his friends grabbing him, Nathan trying to move Holly but struggling as she wrapped her arms around him. “Nath, Nathan! Stop it! Just ignore him, he’s pissed and looking for a fight.”  

“Sorry, guys,” one of his friends spoke, moving him away. “Your missus is right though, mate. He’s just drunk, he don’t mean it.”  

“Yeah?” Nathan snapped, pointing at him. “I fucking do. He looks at me again and I’ll fucking cut him, you understand?” 

“Nathan!” Holly exclaimed, feeling her cheeks begin to tingle. Good god, this was so unlike him to be aggressive. He hated fighting, wasn’t one for violence at all, his body rigid with agitation beneath hers. “Look at me, Nath.” 

Finally, she had two shards of green fury tear themselves away from the other table, stroking his face as he looked at her. “Calm down. He’s just being a drunken wanker.” It sent the mood at the table crashing down, Holly apologising to her friends, telling them it was best they leave so she could get him out of an environment that cracked with hostility. It was embarrassing to say the least, for them to meet her new guy and have him behave like that, no matter that he wasn’t the instigator.  

As soon as she’d gotten him into an Uber, though, he was immediately back to the Nathan she knew. 

“Fuck, I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have risen to him like that,” he lamented, grasping her hand. “I'm just a bit pissed and he irritated me. Already feel like you’re too good for me, don’t need some gammon twat pissing rubbing it in, I’m telling you.”  

“Is everything okay with you?” she found herself immediately asking. “Because this is all very out of character, and I know I’m still getting to know you, but things aren’t adding up for me. You stopped replying to me, stopped wanting to see me and then you turn up tonight already quite drunk and start acting in a way that just doesn’t fit.” 

Glancing down, he sighed, his jaw tightening a little. “I’ll tell you when we get back to yours.”  

Her stomach dropped a little there, knowing her intuition wasn’t off, that there definitely something amiss with him. In a way, though, it was relieving as well. This out of character behaviour had a cause, one he was willing to open up and reveal to her. Once back at her flat – and after prising a bottle of bourbon from his clutches – she made them both a coffee instead and sat down on the sofa next to him, Nathan taking a little while to gather his thoughts before speaking. 

“Oh, hell upon hell,” he began, scratching the back of his neck. “I hate this. Right, so I filed for divorce just over a fortnight ago, like I said to you I was gonna do when I got that number for the solicitor from you. Lisa hit the pissing roof.”  

Sitting there next to him, she could only wonder why. A cold feeling crept over her, that perhaps he was about to tell her that he couldn’t see her any longer, that the reason Lisa had hit the roof was because she wanted them to reconcile. Of course, that made little sense in the face of him being so adamant to meet her that night, but she couldn’t help her thoughts. Keeping silent, though, she sat with patience as he continued. 

“It weren’t even because of anything big either, simply the fucking grounds I’d filed it on. Unreasonable behaviour, which she then accused me of and we got into a huge row before I kicked her out the shop. She fucking called me a useless excuse for a man, too, the bitch, and that’s been pissing bugging the life out of me. Yeah, it’s been proper messing with my head ever since and I ain’t been right. Fucking drinking too much, doing things I shouldn’t be doing, avoiding you.”  

Watching him continue to scratch, she saw the way agitation corded in his muscles, his arms tense, reaching to stroke his shoulder. “I think that’s understandable, given what she did to you and then turning up like that screaming, saying the things she did. I don’t understand why you’ve avoided me, though. What did I do?” 

“That’s the point,” he scoffed. “You did nothing wrong, but I...” He paused, closing his eyes tightly, clutching the sides of his head between his hands. “It’s pissing scaring the shit out of me, for real, how much I like you. Can’t get hurt like that again, Holly. Nah. Can’t let it happen.”  

Sliding off the sofa, she crouched before him, taking his face in her hands. “Nathan, I can’t say I’m never going to hurt you, I can’t know that. I might have a bad day at some point in the future and say something regrettable in the heat of the moment because I’m human, but I can tell you this. I’ll never lie to you or deceive you. I’ll never willingly hurt you like she did. I’m not her, y’know. You can trust me, but you’ve got to let yourself trust me. All well and good for me to say, I know that. Give me a chance, though,” she stated, stroking his cheekbones, watching him nodding. 

“You might not want me to,” he suddenly snorted. “I’ve been with other girls since we started dating. Trying to convince myself I’m not as fucking into you as I am. Which is stupid, because I legit adore you, Holly.” 

She couldn’t say it didn’t make her heart sink unpleasantly to hear that, especially given her own circumstances, but at least he was honest. He’d told her off his own back, which was more than Dean ever had. “We never discussed exclusivity, did we? I won’t lie, it hurts to hear you’ve been with other women, but I still stand by what I just said. We didn’t say we were exclusive. If we had then I’d be punching you on the nose about now.” 

He laughed softly through said nose, resting his forehead to hers. “Seriously, nah. You’re so fucking lovely and I’m just this mess of a person, for real. What do you see in me?” 

God, Lisa had dented his self-esteem so badly. It was the second comment he’d made that night that reflected as much. “You’re kind, you’re sweet, you’re an absolute god in bed – and yes I told my friends in as many words!” He laughed much louder at that, Holly pausing for a moment. “You make me laugh, you’re fun to be around, you’re interesting and thoughtful, and you’re so bloody talented, too. Oh, and you’re about one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen! Look, I can’t say forget about all this damage Lisa did to you and just move on, it isn’t that simple, sadly. At least trust me enough to help you get over it and begin that moving on, though?” 

Trust her. But how could he? He’d sank into Eden with Lisa without a second thought, and she’d hurt him more than his fragile heart could truly withstand. What she’d said was right, though. She wasn’t Lisa. If he was to move forward and truly heal from the wreck of his marriage, he knew he needed to find a little trust, or he’d be stuck there forever. He would be exactly all the things his estranged wife had told him he was. 

“Dunno how to.” He received a slightly exasperated sigh at that, covering her hands with his. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be difficult, but it’s fucking scary.” 

“Okay, I understand that. It’s just a matter of knowing what’s the worst that could happen? You’ve already been there, doesn’t get much worse than that, does it?” His head shake confirmed no. “And there’s a fifty percent chance this thing with us will go beautifully, and you’ll settle and trust you’re safe enough to feel happy, right?” A nod confirmed yes. “So, you have to be brave, and hold onto that fifty percent. If I’m honest, I’d like to say it’s even higher than that, because I’m a bloody catch, you know.” 

His smile widened in an instant. “Oh, I fucking know you are, cutie.” 

“Next time you feel upset about Lisa, or like you want to dive into a bottle for comfort, call me. Talk to me. Let me be there for you and I promise, I’ll become your comfort rather than the person you’re scared of getting in too deep with. As I should be, if I’m going to be your girlfriend at some point. In case you haven’t realised it, I’d actually quite like to be.” 

Oh, he had. The way he kissed her as he lifted her onto his lap confirmed that, too.  

[nathandrakeisabottom]

Hiiii! I was re-reading your works the other day (all so great!) and decided I am gonna throw this in your ask box cos it's been floating round my mind, so just in case it sparks anything in yours, but no worries if not... Thoughts on Nate and/or Sam teaching their SO to climb? x

⋆ Nathan Drake with an S/O with a Fear of Heights Headcanons ⋆

Say that five times fast! Thank you, friend, for such a lovely request and representation of us Space Needle Scaredy Cats! Sorry for the long wait. Nathan explicitly has a scene in my probably-possibly-potentionally-one-day-released megafic where he helps a new team member scale a building, so apologies if you read this… and one day it feels familiar. 😉💙🧡

P.S. We got a very similar ask in the pink furry (in)box, so don’t think Sam will be left out just yet. 🙂

As we all know and love about him, nothing shakes the great, intelligent, impeccable, reasonably-endowed Nathan Drake.

He has a magical, well-learned way of keeping his cool and pushing forward in even the most dire, most dangerous circumstances. At least when it comes to himself. 

Most times, it doesn’t even cross his mind that a certain jump or climb or crawl would be difficult for his companion (It’s a miracle Sully’s eyeballs haven’t gotten stuck in the back of his head from their sheer amount of rolling). 

But he promises he’s trying his hardest to be better about it. 

He likes to have some sort of physical touch with his partner whenever the tension starts to pick up: preparing for a getaway, sneaking around a security-packed manor, a civilian-packed market, sporting scarves and shawls to blend into the crowd. He prefers a hand held, but he often makes do with a hovering touch to the shoulder or waist. Any more will make him seem too worried, and he knows he has to be the rock the second shit maneuvers off-plan.

He couldn’t live with himself otherwise.

And on one particularly windy mission morning, a Bolivian cliffside gap leaves you both between a rock and a hard place, Nathan’s hand immediately going to your waist.

“Who do you want to go first?” – You can mostly hear his concerned baritone over the wind.

After a lifetime of spontaneous jumps, he finally asks love first.

But, unfortunately, the answer comes easy— and you prod frightenedly at his shoulder for the go-ahead. Maybe it’s just stage fright when he jumps and lands with such casual presion that you barely have the courage to even reach for the rope once it backswings up to you.

“C’mon, shortie!” He calls with a smile, no matter how tall you are. 

“Nathan…” You inch, switching one hand for the cliffside when a slight breeze rocks your stance. 

Because what fucking idiot doesn’t tell their partner that they’re afraid of heights before scaling the goddamn Andes?

After a few moments too long, and with no movement to show for it, the wind only grows stronger and your legs: trembling harder, Nathan’s face finally screws up in understanding. He musters up a toothy, encouraging smile.

“Don’t worry about it, hun. Just… just start talking.”

What?

“What?”

 “Anything you can think of. Talk about how stupid I am, if you have to.” 

(Depending on your preferred dynamic with him:) “But then I won’t be talking at all. 🥺“ or “BUT THEN I’LL BE TALKING FOREVER!”

But as soon as another particularly strong breeze whistles by, your boot wobbling on the edge and sending a few pebbles skittering off the side, Nate’s eyebrows furrow and his eyes go soft. There’s no time for jokes anymore.

“C’mon, hun. Anything.” 

You think for a moment. 

And you really, really try.

“Did…” You wet your lip, and you can just barely see Nate’s chest rise with a soft, bated, hopeful breath. “Did you ever think Sallah in the Indiana Jones movies was hot?”

Nathan looks at you like you just spoke fucking Mandarin. Except he probably understands Mandarin ten times better than whatever the fuck you just said.

“What?” He asks incredulously, lips wide in a crooked, accidental smile.

“Sallah? He’s like the best friend guy? He wears a little red ha—” 

“Yes-I-know-who-Sallah-is-thank-you.”

“W-whatever! He’s nice, okay?! Closing statement.” 

But whatever embarrassment your flushed face portrays is canceled out by Nathan bursting out into melodious laughter.

And by some chance or miracle, your feet find themselves inching forward. Maybe just in the hopes of hearing that beautiful laugh just a little bit clearer.

“Oh, what?! Like you haven’t thought about it? You don’t think Indy has? Just the two of them together, digging holes on those cold, lonely desert nights…” You ooze dreamily, just to spur his giggles further.

“That’s my girl! Keep talking about diggin’ holes, hun!” Nathan rallies with clapping hands like he’s at a goddamn football game.

And now you’re joining right in on his laughter.

Your feet: forward. Forward. Forward. Nice and easy,

“Oh… wouldn’t you love me to keep talking about holes.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you love me to love you keep talking about holes!” He jeers right back, and your eyes are too crinkled with smiles to notice how his eyeline dips up and down between your own and the ledge below.

Somewhere above, a creature skitters. A mouse amongst the bush. 

A quick shuffling sound. A few pebbles fall.

Fall.

Fall.

Landslide.

And you gasp in fear when the movement has the rock ledge crumbling where your trembling foot was only a moment before. The only registerable sense is the sound of your own heart beating in your ear, your body reminding, begging you of its own mortality. Blood against its cage. You will fall. It’s already happening.

Holy shit… you’re going to die.

“It’s the beard, isn’t it?” But Nathan’s sweet voice snaps through the fog. 

“Huh?” You barely manage to warble out.

“It’s the beard! Sallah’s big, gigantic beard is why you think he’s so hot!” He gasps in facetious discovery, and a little bit of a careful smile shies out of the corner of your mouth. “Which means you secretly do want me to grow one! I knew it!”

You’re not sure if it’s joy or genuine terror that makes you reply as boisterously as you do. 

“You BETTER not!” But it doesn’t matter, because both make you break out into a laugh so hard it hurts, anyway. “I said he’s nice and that I like his stupid ha—!”

“No, no, you’re right! I didn’t think of it like that before. You’re just brilliant, honey.” 

How handsome he is only makes him that much more punchable. 

And in fact—

You just might—

“BEARDED MEN TELL NO TALES, NATHAN DRAKE!” You wail, and without even thinking, your body is pouncing, soaring through the air— the ledge behind crumbling into the sea and survival finding abrupt home in his arms.

The burning sweat at your forehead, your shaking arms, your noodling legs: you only feel them when you finally have no reason to.

Nathan’s smile: puffing air at your temple in a breathy, relieved chuckle. His hands: wrapped around every part of your body he can possibly manage, desperate to hold it, to protect it with his own.

And just when you think you’re about to suffocate against his pillowy barrel of a chest—

“I mean, his accent helps…” You mumble dumbly, flushed face squished against his (wonderfully) stank-smeared henley.

“Oh! Gotcha! So do you want me to—”

“Nathan, you talking in that accent is the last thing I want you to do.”

⋆⋆⋆

(Post sponsored by the Sallah lovers gang)

[emry-stars-art]

This royal au is making me insane. If you wouldn’t mind I’m wondering how Abram got the scars in this au?

Of course! Please come join my club of being totally rational and normal about royal aus

Since he was only “on the run” for about what. Two minutes between taking out his partner and Day bringing him in, all of the scars and injury Abram starts this storyline with are from 1) the other knights/fighters/trainees at Evermore or 2) from Grand Prince Riko and Nathan themselves. I’ll get into some vague but nasty details below, please take care.

The system at Evermore Castle I think was a lot less organized than the canon Nest, mostly by necessity - it takes a lot more people to run a kingdom than an exy team - and so while the Wesnisnkis are a favored family they aren’t always given special treatment. Abram received special training and Nathan assured his son wouldn’t fall behind a single one of the competition. After and between that, Abram/Nathaniel was set out to practice and train against the rest, and the rest were allowed and even encouraged to try and take Abram out and take his place as favored by the Moriyama family. Most of Abram’s knowledge of how to take a life quickly and quietly (because we all know that wasn’t the way he was taught formally) I think came from when any of his superiors made him kill a failed attacker, one that Abram had caught or incapacitated before they got to him. This was when he’d ‘learn from his own mistakes’ the quickest.

The ones from Riko were, of course, mostly for amusement. He probably thought it was incredibly entertaining to be able to hold one of the single most dangerous men in the kingdom still with just a few words. He liked that Nathaniel couldn’t touch him, physically or metaphorically, no matter what he did. Nathaniel never met Kevin Day because Day had no desire to even see the things the Wesninskis did, much less torment one of them. But I think he had Riko’s face memorized.

Nathan’s were “to teach”, he said. The second best way to make sure Nathaniel didn’t repeat a mistake twice. If he didn’t perform well enough, or if he refused to do something demanded of him, or if Nathan needed to make sure Nathaniel would remember a technique or a lesson. He subscribed to the idea that experience is the best teacher; and yes, Abram knows now exactly how much force you can use before a finger breaks.

So I guess at the beginning there could be technically less scars in number and variety, because Abram had less genuine accidents at Evermore than Neil would have on the run in canon. It’s just that all the ones he has here are deliberate and essentially inescapable.

I still haven’t decided what might happen exactly if/when the Moriyamas catch up to him. But if they can get Abram back to Evermore, they’re going to be pretty determined to break him until he’s subdued and obedient, as intended, by any means possible.