#nathan prescott/reader

[mediocrewallflow3r]

To Be Loved and Have Loved - (Nathan Prescott/ AFAB Reader) Pt. 1

Title: To be Loved and Have Loved

Part 1, Part 2

Pairing: Post-Storm Nathan Prescott/ Female Reader

Rating: Explicit- minors shoo!

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: A continuation to @delopsia 's "To Build A Home", takes place directly after, Sloppy makeouts, Light Dom/sub, Good Nathan Prescott, Life is Strange Comic Lore, post-storm, Nathan ruining his Father's dining room out of spite, plus size! reader, Nathan being soft for only the reader, Aftercare, slight subspace, future Metallica References, Nathan Prescott Needs a Hug, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Fluff and Smut.

A/N: Hi there my lovelies! It’s been a long while. I’ve been away improving my art in college, trying to improve at writing, and becoming a part of the Tumblr community. This is a continuation of https://www.tumblr.com/delopsia/672519407059222528/to-build-a-home?source=share and will be posted in parts. Pre-writing and posting I reached out to Del and got permission to continue their lovely fic. I’m honored that I can post my writing in addition to theirs! Feedback is very appreciated and please go check out Del!

"Why do I get the feeling that you're planning something devious?" You chirp as the two of you begin walking to your car.

"How do you feel about joining me for a secret rendezvous in my father's precious dining room?".

"Why most definitely my good sir!" you gallantly respond, curtsying for dramatic effect.

"You're a fucking weirdo, you know that right?" Nathan says, shaking his head incredulously. Though, you can see the blush dusting his pale ears.

The stars above twinkle brightly in the suburban sky while you and Nathan pile into your car, excitement buzzing between the both of you.

After turning the ignition, Nathan's hand gently reaches over and squeezes your thigh. His nimble fingers toy with the tights almost bursting because of your larger thighs.

"What's that for, cowboy?".

You watch as his bright blue eyes meet yours, amusement painting his features.

Nathan adverts his gaze from the stars and meets your eyes. "Nothing in particular, nerd," Nathan smirks under your intense gaze.

Huffing, you pull out of the old church parking lot. You see in the corner of your eye Nathan waves to a few people. A smile graces your lips at the thought he considers some survivors worthy of a wave now.

Driving through the back roads of Arcadia Bay proves interesting, many broken limbs and scrap are still littering the road- hindering the ability of drivers. You try not to think about the families that may have not survived while you drive past crushed homes.

From what you've heard, Max and Chloe have found a place closer to the remnants of downtown Arcadia. According to Victoria, Max is even collaborating with her art gallery in New York. She mentioned something about Chloe working up to being a small-town mechanic. You try not to think about Mark Jefferson's ongoing trial.

"What're you thinkin' so hard about, little doe?" Nathan questions, gently. His thumb tugs and twists at your tights fervently.

"Our friends." You sigh.

"Pfftt- we have friends? Since when?".

"Since you got off your high horse and we started leaving our home more,".

Nathan tugs your tights in retaliation, snapping them back loudly for effect.

"Don't get bratty with me, Y/N, you know better,".

"That's ironic coming from you, Mr. 'The Prescott’s rule this town!'".

Nathan laughs, a real goofy laugh, his canine teeth shining bright in the moonlight.

He rolls down the windows, whooping and hollering, suddenly. Your eyes can't stray away from his strawberry-blonde hair swirling around in the breeze.

"Yeah, I'd fucking suppose so!" He shouts back over the loud wind.

Giggling quietly, your eyes catch a glance of the Prescott Manor gate between the dark trees causing you to pull into the long-winded driveway subsequently. The lights are off, as per usual. You allow yourself to enjoy the cold night air like the person beside you in the vehicle.

Hesitantly, you pull into the garage. The lights automatically turn on brightly, allowing you to see the drywall- that you know must cost more than your entire tuition. The old Nathan would have pretended not to see your shaking hands gripping the steering wheel tight, but this one can't and won't miss that shit.

Surprisingly, Nathan begins to lean over the center console, his hand moving from your thigh to gently squeeze your hand. In the corner of your eye, you see his normally death-worthy stare turn soft.

"You can relax baby, I don't care if you hit the drywall. I've done it before for fucks sake!".

"You noticed?".

"How could I have not? You're shaking like a goddamn leaf.".

You purse your lips, nodding. You know Nathan is right, but the one interaction you experienced with his father sits heavy in your mind. The anxious silence stretches whilst Nathan begins to gather your coats and other belongings from the back seat.

You hear the click of the passenger door opening and then Nathan speaking gently to you, "Let's go, weirdo.". On autopilot, you open the car door and begin walking towards the Manor doorsteps. Nathan, much further ahead of you, shifts through his keys looking for the correct one. After a few moments, you hear a quiet "a ha!" When he finds the right key.

Nathan pushes the door open with you wandering close behind him. He hits the main hallway light switch. Both of you take off your shoes in comfortable silence. You were taking much longer, the converse adorning your feet proving difficult to take off quickly.

Then, Nathan's sharp cupid bow is kissing your ear, and his rough hands gently squeeze your shoulders. "We don't have to do this tonight," he whispers into the dusted pink shell of your ear.

Oh God, but I want to.

Pushing your back firmer onto his chest, you respond bashfully, "I want this, I do, I'm just nervous.".

Nathan's hands wander, slipping under your sweater- caressing your stomach and happy trail. "Why're you nervous? It's just me,".

"I want things to be good for you,", I don't want you to leave me, remains heavy in your mind as you nervously chuckle out into the dusty Manor hallway.

Nathan's hands stop in their tracks. "Are you fucking serious?".

Unspoken words sour inside Nathans's mouth; "Do you know who I am? I've killed people. My hands shouldn't be touching your kind body. I've been with so many people, you shouldn't have second best as your first. I have to take medicine to be sane. I scream and shout at you regularly. You shouldn't trust me.".

Caressing his right-hand causes Nathan's eyes to droop warmly as he lets out a quiet, "humph".

"Ever since I've met you, I haven't wanted anybody else...", you continue, laying everything out on the table- literally.

"Then I s'pose we're on the same fuckin' page, baby. ", Nathan’s voice has got that deep, gravelly tone to it again, the tone that you remember with vivid detail, the tone he used that one Thursday morning before the storm.

Your shoulders fold inwards, warmth blooming inside your chest. Nathan's chest presses into your shoulder blades while freezing hands play with your belly button piercing, and his breath fans out across the baby hairs growing on your neck. He's everywhere but nowhere.

"To the dining room...?".

"Fuck yeah, doe-eyes.".

Efficiently, Nathan hauls you up into his lanky arms and quickly walks down the winding corridor. Abruptly, he turns to the left entering his family's large dining room. He pauses at the door briefly, allowing you to hit the light switch.

Almost immediately, the ridiculously large chandelier gracing the ceiling of the room lit up brightly. Nathan moved less than gracefully, sitting you down in a dining chair. He made quick work of the dusty table settings, quite obviously for decoration, by grasping the end of the tablecloth and yanking it off the table.

Before you could even register the loud noises of shattered glass, Nathan's soft lips were on yours. Nathan gently cradled your head, his other arm lifting you onto the wooden dining table. Soft groans settled in the back of his throat after hearing a small whimper from you.

Taking a breath, Nathan leaned forward on yours, his nose brushing gently on yours. “Easy, easy, baby,” he whispered, “It’s just me,”. Please don’t be scared of me , remains on the tip of his tongue. “I know,” you whispered back, understanding. A pause settled in the dining room, heavy gasps coming in and out of both of your lungs.

Nathan settles onto his forearms, lips brushing against yours but not entirely closing the gap, bony hips circling gently into yours. “I think I’m getting major Deja-vu right now, Nate,” you chuckled, brushing your fingers through his fiery hair.

“I don’t think this time’ll be the same,” Nathan chuckled, chin resting on the top of your sternum.

"Can I touch you?", you ask gently, hands itching to reach out and touch.

Nathan's eyes flick away from your face, his teeth beginning to chew on his lip anxiously. You feel a tremor run through his spine.

"Uh- yeah, you can touch me, just- um- tell me where before you do," Nathan stutters out, his eyes not meeting your hopeful ones.

"Okay," you whisper, smiling up at him.

Nathan's lips tug into a soft smile and his dimples show slightly despite his avoidance of eye contact.

"Can I touch uh- down there? " You nervously ask, peering up at Nathan's sharp features.

Way to fucking go Shakespeare.

Airy chuckles erupt from Nathan's lungs, his laughter shaking the both of you.

"Yes, babe, you can touch my dick, that's why we're fuckin’ here, to begin with,", he says in amusement, a smirk gracing his rose pout.

Your smile quickly shifts into a pathetic pout, and Nathan's face softens upon seeing the change in emotion. "Don't be upset baby, you're doing just what I asked," he coos at you, his fingers slightly pinching your cheek. That once faint, woodsy musk cologne invades your senses, his praise settling deep into your lower abdomen. Nathan's lips brush against yours and his tongue cheekily licks over your lips to the tip of your nose. An amused breath releases from Nathan’s lungs as you continue attempting to lock lips with him. Silently, your hand clenches up and hits Nathan’s shoulder in respite.

“Stop teasing me, you motherfucker,” you whimper out in frustration, your legs flailing underneath the weight of Nathan’s lithe body.

If he doesn’t fuck you six ways to Sunday soon, you’re going to be so pissed at him.

Nathan’s slick tongue trails over your collarbone up to the ridges of your neck slowly. His hands glide over the plush skin adorning your hips, and deep short breaths release from his nose loudly.

“I’ll tease you when I wanna’ tease you,” Nathan teases, his voice being muffled by the spot of your skin he’s worrying to death with his teeth.

In retaliation of some sort, your right hand begins drifting down towards the stiff bulge prominent in Nathan’s designer jeans. Your fingers sneak under the waistline quietly and begin brushing your hand over the curls adorning his happy trail. Nathan ever distracted with the large hickies that he’s painting your chest with, groans in surprise.

Your fingers brush over the tip of his cock gently, the girth taking you by surprise.

“When were you gonna’ tell me you were packing?”, you tease Nathan, loosely gripping his cock.

A soft, “Fuck,” comes out in a deep breath from Nathan while his fingers travel from your hips up to your plump tits.

“I didn’t plan on telling you, I planned on showing you,” he chuckles.

“Then fucking show me you tease!” you shout at him, almost playfully. Deep down you want him to snap, to let go.

Quickly Nathan’s hand gently slaps your thigh, re-establishing his commanding demeanor. He leans his face right in front of yours as his intense gaze bears down on you; “You’ll get what you want, you know that, so behave,” he hisses out.

[slasherscream]

the absolute INSANITY of the pushing your s/o away thing with the crazy ass boy gang… it’s like triggering a dog’s prey drive but for serial killers w abandonment issues

CRAZY ASS BOYS GANG + PUSHING THEIR HAND AWAY/REJECTING AFFECTION

❥ who gets pissed the fuck off ❥

Billy Loomis - Is irritated off rip. Billy plays it cool but he needs physical affection from you. He’s casual about it so he flies under the radar, but this is a stage five clinger. He’s always doing something small. Touching your fingers. A hand on your back. Neck. Sitting behind you instead of putting you directly in his lap. It’s little stuff. Hovering. Smack his hand away one of these times and his jaw clenches right away. “What the hell is your problem?” Please snuggle up to him and don’t start world war 3. It’s not worth the joke. 

Kevin Khatchadourian - Quick question, why do this to yourself? Kevin does not need, nor does he particularly enjoy, physical contact. Period. He is gracious enough to give you physical contact because he knows you’re built different (pathetic). For you to then turn around and spit in the face of him being kind enough to meet your needs? …. Quite crazy of you. The look he gives you is pure confusion because he’s honest to God baffled. What do you want to accomplish here? Go ahead and start begging now, because he’s not touching you for a long while. 

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - Swings wildly between damn near dodging any physical affection you attempt to give him to hanging off you like a squid on a ship. No in-between. For you to have the audacity to reject him when he’s feeling clingy? How dare you. He doesn’t have to beg anyone for attention! Did you forget who you’re dating? Doesn’t even care if you did it with obvious playfulness. He’s sensitive. He’s tender. He’s a bitch. He goes to get up and leave entirely and you have to grab him and beg him to cuddle so this doesn’t become a week long cold war. Happy ego stroking! 

Stu Macher - What you’re not about to do is ruin his mood. Baby, he’s about to ruin yours. How about that? If you push his hands off you once he enjoys a little playful bitchiness. Playing hard to get. He likes to chase, it’s cool. Twice? Okay…. We’re irritating him. Three times? He’s gonna grab your hand, stop smiling, and stare at you. When he places his hand back where it belongs, on your thigh, don’t act up again. He could make your whole week go to shit. Don’t start wars you won’t win. He’s the king of playing stupid games and winning stupid prizes. 

Nathan Prescott - Has to bluster and get visibly pissed off because he is rejection sensitive to a degree that is astounding, frankly. Let you see him upset after he tried to be affectionate and you said no? Hah! Not fucking likely. Being physically affectionate in the first place doesn’t come easy to him. Quality time is more his speed. Even worse if it wasn’t a sexual advance he was making. He tried to wrap an arm around you and you shrug him off? You’ll be lucky to get a hello out of him for the next week. Good luck soldier.

David Mccall - Outwardly, he pretends to be despondent and sheepish when you bat his hand away. He’s using sadness as a shield. If he’s sad then you might feel bad and give in. He’ll use any tool in his arsenal to get his way. One of his greatest skills is speaking in a soft voice, just shy of how you’d speak to a toddler, and telling you: “I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” This is all to hide the fact that you rejecting him in any way, shape, or form makes him so angry he can barely think. You might be able to catch the rage hidden behind the veil. If you’re quick enough. David puts on a convincing show, but his gentle smile is twitching at the edges.

❥ who gets sad and mopey ❥

Jordan Li - Oh you pushed them away? No, that’s cool, it’s totally fine. You can want space. Everyone’s entitled to their own space bubble. Of course. Are you having a bad day? Are you mad at them? Did they do something wrong? Did they piss you off? These are the types of questions Jordan is going to “casually” ask for the next ten minutes while they sit really close to you. They’re not touching you! They always sit with their legs spread so wide. Their arm isn’t around you, it’s on the back of the couch. You’re nitpicking here, babe. They’re staring at you with their big brown eyes. No, they didn’t get any closer while you weren’t looking. 

Josh Washington - Why would you do this to him? Don’t push his hand off you unless you mean it or you’re being obviously playful about it. If you pretend to be mad at him while you do it, no matter how unconvincing of an actor you are, he will believe you. Sensitive king. He also won’t go to touch you again until you initiate the contact. Physical touch is reassuring and comforting to him but even he (category five clinger) gets touch aversion at times. As observant as he is, he knows some people are uncomfortable asserting their boundaries, so they’ll try to soften the blow of saying no by being “playful”. He cannot take the risk! You could mean it but don’t want to hurt his feelings. Josh interprets many playful no’s as real ones. Better safe than sorry.

❥ secret third worse thing ❥

Sebastian Valmont - Doesn’t take it for anything more than what it is. If you’re being playful he recognizes it. If you’re seriously not wanting to be touched at any given moment he understands that as well. However, in the case of being playful, you’ve started a war you can’t win. Because, as much as Sebastian enjoys chasing you…  Sebastian also likes to be chased. Ten minutes from now you’ll go to give Sebastian’s cheek a kiss and he’s going to dodge you. Hard. To such an extent it’s bordering on insult. He’ll be wearing a cat that got the canary grin all the while. 

Jason Dean/JD - Doesn’t take you seriously even if you are dead serious. I’m sorry, you’ve discovered his worst character trait by far. Most boundaries are a joke to him. He always wants to touch you. He loves you! He craves you like a drug. You should feel the same for him, in equal measure and desperation. So why wouldn’t you want him touching you? Holding you close. He’s so gentle with you (usually). His arms should feel like home. No matter how long a day you’ve had. No matter how overwhelmed you might be with sound, sight, touch. In JD’s eyes you’re one soul in two bodies. He always wants you near. He knows you want the same. You’re just a little dramatic sometimes.

[heuhuewaves]

short n' sweet writing challenge

since short n' sweet has taken over my life (i mean i even themed my tumblr after sabrina) I thought why not write some little oneshots about some characters i'm known for and some new ones i've gotten into themed around the songs on the album!

basically request through my inbox on the character and song you would want me to write and i'll do it!

FULL CREDIT goes to @idyllcy for this idea. its so creative and wanted to do it for one of my favorite albums right now!

request away! :)

taste - steve harrington

please please please - deadpool

good graces - eddie munson

sharpest tool - nathan prescott

coincidence - billy loomis

bed chem - peter parker

espresso - sean diaz

dumb & poetic - jason todd

slim pickens - saiki kusuo

juno - bruce wayne

lie to girls - billy hargrove

don't smile - finn mcnamara

posting will start november 1st!

[katscloudy]

me when im trying to find good fics but its all smut ..😞

like PLEAAASE 🙏 i love smut but sometimes i want to read angst

[meshla-cyarika]

Five Minutes

Pairing: Nathan Prescott x reader

Word count: 431

Tags/warnings: fluff, established relationship, sexual themes (but nothing happens)

Summary: you're just trying to study in peace, but you're boyfriend has other ideas...

--------------------------------------------------

"Nathan, not now." You're sat in the middle of your dorm's bed, notes and annotations spread out around you, as you try to study for your upcoming practise exam. It was going pretty well, you managed to get a couple hours of study time in peace, until Nathan had his last class for the day and made a beeline to your room.

"You really gonna give Shakespeare more attention than me?" He has his arms loosely wrapped around your torso from behind, occasionally presses kisses to your cheek and neck to try and tempt you to become putty in his hands.

"When he's worth more than half my grade, yeah." You say back, reading through a page of your annotations.

"Yeah, well, I'm worth more than this whole fucking town so..." Nathan cuts himself off to presses his lips to your neck again.

"Nate." You say sternly, as he tries to spice it up more. To be honest, the words on the page infront of you have been blurred by the desire sitting in your soul. It's very rare that you can gain control over Nathan Prescott.

"Come on!" He throws his head back in annoyance. "You've been at it for over two hours, just have a five minute break!" Nathan pleads as he rests his head agaisnt your shoulder. You try not to relish in how much control you have over this boy, knowing how needy he can get and how you're completely in control of his pleasure.

Trying to be discreet, Nathan's starts slowly inching his hands upwards and under your loose shirt.

"Jesus, you're fucking cold!" Your body shivers at the temperature change.

"I could think of a few ways on how you could change that." Nathan says back, before squeezing your tits over your bra.

"A few ways, or positions?" You quirk a brow, as you look over your shoulder at the blonde.

"Tomato, tomatoe." Nathan shrugs, before practically lunging forward to capture your lips with his own. His kiss is rough and desperate, enough to take your breath away.

You lean away from him, after his tongue swipes across your lips. "Five minutes." You remind him and he has to contain how giddy he is that you've finally given in.

"Five minutes." He assures you again, not wasting a second to reconnect your lips again.

Five minutes, turned into ten. Ten, turned into twenty. And before you know it, you're covered in blossoming purple marks, his shirt thrown over your head and both your bodies clinging onto one another as you drift into a deep slumber.

[oprvah]

Vinh is literally a cunty version of Nathan HELPP

[nathanpr3sc0tt]

[fanfic-compass]

~Just One Kiss~

Nathan Prescott X Reader

Summary: A drunk Nathan asks the reader to come over to his room.

Word count: 1.3K

Warning: Usage of alcohol, drunk Nathan

There were two types of nights for me: The first one being the nights where I would get back to my dorm after an intense hookup with Nathan Prescott and then there are the nights where I would just lay in my bed and watch Golden Girls. Today was the latter. I was just chilling out when I suddenly got a text message. It was already pretty late so I was wondering who could possibly want something from me at such a time but when I checked my phone it didn’t came as a big surprise: Nathan, of course.

He had always been the complete opposite of me: popular, rich and mostly known for drugs, alcohol and being a rebellious teenager. I, on the other hand, was just a shy, introvert and nerdy girl. It was about three months prior that Nathan and I worked on a class project together when things quickly took a weird turn, resulting in us meeting for quick hookups a few times per week. We started talking more and even became good friends at some point. Knowing what Nathan probably wanted now I opened the message and my suspicions were quickly confirmed.

“Can u come 2 my room?”

I was already snuggled up in my bed and I actually didn’t want to get up again but I kept receiving begging messages from Nathan so after a while I wanted to check if he was okay. My guess was that he was feeling needy because he was drunk, it had happened before, and I was partially right – he really was drunk. But instead of finding him on his bed like usual, he was he was walking around his room. When he saw me he happily approached me and gave me a big hug, almost crushing me with the strength of it.

“Why did you ask me to come over?” I asked him after we separated again.

“Because I wanna try something.” He simply answered, making me curious.

“What do you wanna try?”

“Kissing but without having sex afterwards.”

“So you made me leave my cozy, warm bed and walk all the way over here for a kiss?”

“Pretty much, yes.” Nathan laughed.

I didn’t know if I was annoyed or if I thought it was cute. Knowing he was absolutely drunk I decided it was cute that he thought of me in that state. But then I saw him almost falling over so I decided he had to go to bed.

“Nate, you’re drunk. Let’s put you to bed, hm?”

That made him all whiny “Nooooooo. I don’t wanna go to bed. I wanna kiss you.”

I laughed at how adorable his pouting was but it didn’t matter. He was too drunk to know what he needs. I put him in his bed after helping him take his jacket off. Then I covered him with his blanket and put a bucket next to his bed.

“Sleep well, Nate.” I whisper, ready to leave. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Don’t go. Please…” He almost sounded desperate. “Please… one kiss. Just one.”

I couldn’t resist him. I always had a little crush on him and this was just too tempting so I did what seemed right: I gave in. I walked back over to his bed and gave his lips a quick peck.

“One more. Just one more, please…”

I should have know it. However he was just too cute in that moment so I had to give in and give him one more little peck. Just one couldn’t hurt anyone, right?

“One more. We can’t leave it at two. We have to make it three.”

“One more. But only one, okay? Then you really need to sleep, Prescott.” I sighed.

Nathan nodded happily so I leaned in again and pecked his lips for the third time. Then I kissed his forehead and a while later I finally left his room.

----------

It was morning now. I woke up well-rested and checked my phone to see if Nathan needed anything or if anyone else texted me. I did get a text from my mother but it was only the regular “Have a nice Sunday”- text.

What was strange was that Nathan didn’t bother texting me at all. Usually he would at least text me when he woke up to let me know he was fine but not today. So I got ready to go and did the only reasonable thing: I walked up to his dorm and checked on him.

When I entered I saw that he was still sleeping. ‘Of course’ I thought. ‘This makes sense. Why did I get so worried?’ I sat down on the couch and played with my phone, waiting for him to finally wake up. It took about thirty more minutes until he stirred and slowly opened his eyes. I gave him a moment to adjust to the light in his room, although it wasn’t much due to his heavy curtains I knew how sensitive his eyes were.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” I giggle a little, making Nathan groan. “How bad is the hangover?”

Nathan only groaned in response which was enough to answer the question.

“Want me to bring you my ‘special mixture’ to help the hangover?”

I made that mixture for him so many times already. Nathan nodded and put a pillow over his head, trying to cover his eyes which made me giggle. Then I left the room and came back a short while later with a glass of what I liked to call ‘hell juice’. It smelled absolutely awful and tasted even worse but it did help.

Nathan was sitting up in his bed and I sat beside him and gave him the glass. I know how much he hated this but it was his fault for needing it. Also, it was fun for me to watch him struggle as he drank it. He knew better than to complain so he quickly swallowed all of it down and contorted his face in disgust.

“How drunk was I?” He said quietly.

I told him the whole story about how I had to come over and he blushed. This was rare, I have never seen Nathan blush before.

“So I told you to come over because I wanted a small kiss?”

“Not only one.” I explained. “After the first one you wanted a second one. And a third one. And then you asked me for other things that I respectfully declined because you were too drunk.”

I couldn’t really read his expression. In one way he seemed to be a little shy about what he asked for last night but at the same time he just smirked and seemed to know that if he wasn’t so drunk he would have gotten his way.

“Well…” He started. “Now that I’m feeling better, my request still stands.”

Damn him. Damn his smirk, damn his charm. I couldn’t believe how easily he got me to be putty in his hands. How could I possibly say no to him like that? Safe to say that I did not say no. In fact we spend most of the day in his bed. In the evening we were so exhausted that he let me stay in his bed for the night. This was the first real time we cuddled, no rush, no hurry, just us. He was pressing light kisses on my neck as I heard him whisper to me quietly.

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

[amoristt]

Grazing the Fire | VI

yippee!!!!!!

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

warnings: language

want to support me? here's my ko-fi!

-----

The bat is heavy and demanding in your hands. Your mind races behind your eyes- a million concerns shrouding you. What was he going to have you do? You’d seen Nathan do some pretty heinous shit when he was bored, so what exactly constituted fun for him? You roll the bat in your palms, scanning over the chips and cracks in the weathered wood. A part of you worried that this was going to be some sort of hit-man crap- like now that you’d ventured into the next tier of his friendship pyramid he was going to bring you into his bad dealings. He turns to look at you and the sun catches on the expensive camera nestled in his hands. 

All you can offer is a lopsided, unsure smile. 

He guides you deep into the heart of that junkyard, a maze chock full of broken down appliances and soda cans dotted with pellet gun holes. For the first time since summer had begun to settle into shrill fall, you were grateful for the chillness in the air. God, it would have stunk, all those mounds of trash just baking in the heat. 

A sharp, popping echo of glass breaking has you leaping nearly a whole foot in the air, and you whip around with a harsh glare at the source of the sound. Of course, of course it’s Nathan. He’d set his camera down on a tipped over fridge and made quick work to whip brown beer bottles at the ground. With every toss they explode into glittering shards, and you twitch every single time. 

“Would you chill?” He laughs pointedly. “There’s no out here but us.”

“Have I ever been chill?” You grunt, feeling the full weight of the bat in your hands once more.

 “Guess not. Tweaker.” He hauls a microwave up from the ground and settles it on a chest freezer. “Maybe you should take some of that stress out on his bad boy.” He pats it, the metal echoing hollowly, after settling his camera down on an upside down box off to the side. Away from all the danger. 

You swallow. “You want me to hit it?”

“Fucking duh.” 

It takes a long moment for you to consider it. Shifting your weight, feeling your heart rate increase. You never really were the destructive type. 

“Hello?” He waves until your eyes follow his hand. “Come on, hit it! You’ll feel great.”

The microwave's door hangs limply, threatening to fall at any moment. “I fail to see how this is going to make all my troubles go away.”

Nathan couldn’t roll his eyes any harder than he had in that instant. In a moment’s notice, he’s beside you, and then he’s behind you, close enough you can feel his chest clasping over your back. Your instinct is hard- shoving yourself forward despite the raging heat that instantly rose to your cheeks. To your surprise, Nathan doesn’t allow you. He’s quicker than you, grabbing the bat and keeping you in place. Trapped. You’re once more reminded of his height, the inches he has over you. And how those little noodle arms of his hide some serious power.

“Dude, what the hell,” You manage with a surprisingly even voice. 

“Like this.” He drags your arms high over head. There’s a moment where they linger above your head. Your shirt rides up just high enough to feel the breeze over your naval. 

He breathes in, you breathe in. 

He crashes the bat down onto the microwave with you in tow. 

Wood meets metal in an explosive bang and you can feel the exact moment the appliance gives way from underneath the powerful swing. The door clatters to the ground, bolts spring out from every corner, a hefty dent plays right down the center and caves in the empty middle. The vibrations rattle you to your core and sink into your bones, adrenaline greeting every nerve. You blink at the sight of the destruction.

When he laughs, deep and full, you do too.

“See what I’m talking about!” He cheers, and you do. He’s moving like he’s on air now, light on his feet as he backs away and motions towards the microwave once again. “Do it again! Come on, imagine it’s fucken- uhhh,” He taps his forehead, brows drawn together. “Fucken- you know! Those two bitches!”

“April and May?” You blink at him, still feeling laughter dancing on your tongue. When he nods, you chuckle. “I don’t wanna kill them, Nathan.”

“Okay then,” He rubs his face before it lights up suddenly. “Oh! Those two fucks that stole your book of whatever the fuck that whole thing was!”

An unpleasant memory drags through the forefront of your mind. Trying to relax at the fountain, having your very private artbook ripped from your hands and tossed around like it was nothing. The nasty things they said to you. Yeah- you could definitely give those two a whack. Or three.

You’re rearing up and crashing that bat back down before your mind can catch up with your body. More bolts rattle out of the metal frame, and when you swing once more, you relish in the way it cracks under the force. The microwave teeters off the edge before it plummets to the dirt and damn near shatters from the abuse. Coils, shreds of plastic and metal are confetti around its remains. 

Nathan whistles when he peeks over the edge at the sight. 

“I always knew you had that in you. Maybe you didn’t need me that day after all.”

He says it so offhandedly. Quick, mindless. But it rocks you in a strange way that’s hard to place. Mostly because you definitely did need Nathan that day. And also because for just a second you’re launched back to the first moment you saw a glimpse of something other than just vitriolic hate in him. He had stood between you and those two boneheads, unmoving and unwavering. 

All for you. Even though you didn’t realize it at the time. 

“Give it.” He says, arms outstretched. You offer the bat with just the slightest reluctance and he takes it, gets to work without a second thought. z

He nails the tipped over fridge, drives dents into the thick metal over and over again until it craters like the moon. He howls, he laughs like it’s a performance. You step back when he picks up more beer bottles from the ground and lines them up on the fridge, struggling to stand them upright on the dipping surface. When they’re set and ready to go, he swings, hard, and glass launches in all directions as he tears through the line. 

“That’s what I’m fucking talking about!” He cheers. He tosses you the bat and it slams into your chest before you manage to catch it. While you’re getting your bearings back, he’s stacking more bottles. “Your turn.”

You feel those similar nerves rising your chest, unignorably and bubbling, but you step up to the plate anyways. Those slotted eyes follow your every move, all the way from you rearing back and to the very moment you swing with everything you’ve got. 

When you miss, you feel the air leave your lungs. The bat glides right above them, just merely an inch away, but a miss nonetheless. Oh, how Nathan laughs at you. He doubles over and everything, chest heaving with every breath. You cringe so hard it feels like you could die. 

“Keep laughing and I’m gonna hit you next!” 

“Go on, killer.” He motions for the bottles once more, snickering. While you get into position, you can hear him faintly chuckling to himself, likely replaying the moment over and over again in his head.

Running for redemption, you put your back into your swing once more. The bat collides with the bottles so satisfyingly it makes you shiver. It glides through the line like they’re nothing, and the impact sends bursting sprays of glass everywhere the eye could see. It feels so good- feels right deep in your chest. Your shoulders are loose, your heart is light. You laugh and you grin at the man before you like you’d known him your entire life. 

And he grins right back with visible pride. A mentor, a guide to your unmannerly behavior. 

“Okay, I see what you mean now.” Your voice is fast, breathy. “That’s fucking awesome.”

“That’s nothing, light work.” Nathan rummages through his pockets and pulls out a red and white box. He draws a cigarette out, settles it in between his fingers, lights it like a professional. He draws in a captivating breath before it leaves him in a plume of gray.

He reaches out, offers it to you. Though you hesitate, you ultimately decline. 

But you do make a mental note of the day Nathan Prescott tried to share his precious cigarettes with you, a lowly no one in the eyes of Blackwell Academy. There’s something beautiful in the moment, the way the sun catches and glitters off the mounds of shattered glass and broken metal. The clouds dragging over the vibrant sun and the breeze swaying through the many piles of forgotten trash and leaves that were beginning to fade from a true green to a mellow yellow. You may as well have been on top of the world.

Nathan must have felt it too. He plucks his camera up from the box he’d settled it on, routinely boots it up with its hundreds of buttons and takes tasteful snapshots of the evidence of your fun. It prints, see’s daylight for just a moment before he’s shoving it into his back pocket without even sparing a glance. That’s how you knew he was the real deal- he didn’t even have to check. Just knew that it was a good one. A keeper.

The early afternoon draws on just the same. You both work your way deeper into the thick of the junkyard until the piles of garbage are tall enough to box you in, leaving a path of broken glass and metallic shrapnel in your wake. You’re only stopped when you see train tracks yards away, cutting a sharp boundary between the heaping trash piles and green, lush grass. Little ways before the tracks a ramshackle shed-like structure stands with holey walls and what may as well have been a tin roof. Nathan doesn’t pause before he approaches it like you do. Doesn’t have to take in the sight, really absorb the atmosphere. You wonder how many times he’d been in this very spot wasting the day away.

Neon graffiti demands your attention when you’re close enough to see it, cigarettes and crumpled blunt buds seeding the perimeter. A bottle of Jack Daniels rests against the wall, half empty. Nathan drags a puff from his cigarette and toes it with his black shoes, rolls it over and watches the contents spill out with a less than amused expression. The smoke climbs the air hypnotizingly and you watch what you can before it disappears entirely. 

“I haven't been here in years.” He breathes. His voice is low, mellow. Lost in thought and memories. He nudges a snuffed out cigarette on the ground partially buried in dirt. “Before Vic and all the parties and the Vortex Club shit I used to come out here and just chill out.”

You lean the bat on your shoulder, nodding, imagining him all those years ago long before you met him. Before he came the menace on site that was Nathan Prescott. You wondered how he presented himself back then- softer, or perhaps just quieter. A subtle anger that had only really started to fester. He steps into the shed and you follow without a second thought, join him when he leans his boney back against the brick wall and slides down. The interior is overstimulating- dirty, haphazardly decorated with the most college-like shit you’d ever seen. A dart board, stolen road signs, a disgustingly bright yellow tapestry with an elephant etched into the fabric. Streaks of light beam through the gaps of the roof and shine down on a small coffee table. 

You eye the vulgar messages written in black marker while Nathan leans his head back against the wall, huffing out a breath of smoke that makes your nose twitch. Once again, he offers the now half smoked cigarette out to you. 

This time you accept. He doesn't hide the way his lips tug into a smile. The cigarette feels uncannily heavy between your fingers, beckoning you. Your chest feels tight, anxiety rising under your skin for some reason.

“I used to come out here when my dad would chew my ass out.” He rubs his face with the flat palms of his hands, eyes unfocused. “Fucking prick. This one time he made me take this stupid ass role in this stupid ass play and I didn’t even wanna be in and I totally blew that shit. Just fucked up all my lines right on show night. Man, he let me have it.”

You feel your breath stuck in your chest at the sudden venting. Venting about his father, no less. It was sudden, unwarranted. He was opening up to you all on his own without prompting. 

“What happened?” The cigarette still burns, a red glowing halo. 

He shrugs, tosses a rock from the floor and bounces it off the wall across the room mindlessly. “I don’t know. I didn’t even want to be there so when I saw all those people just staring at me- I don’t know. They were laughing at me and I just totally froze up.”

You could picture it if you really tried. Nathan, younger and anxious, locked up on stage with a sea of eyes all glued to him. Muscle memory and rehearsed lines vanishing in the blink of an eye. Pity grows in your gut. 

Pity, and understanding. Your own memories of being younger, up on stage in front of countless people watching your every move flare up in your mind. Your mother was raised in pageantry and made damn sure you would be the same despite your complaints. 

“I can’t imagine you in a play.” You admit quietly. He snorts.

“I couldn’t either. But that doesn’t matter, does it?” He huffs. “Always pushing me into shit I don’t want to do because I'm a Prescott and it’s apparently my job. He even made me sign up for the football and get this-” He turns to face you with a harsh expression. “I didn’t fucking cut it!”

You tilt your head. “Didn’t cut it?”

“Nope! Didn’t fucking make tryouts. But thank god my dad was there to buy my way in, right?”

“You couldn’t say no?” You ask, even though you already know the answer. The picture he’d painted of his father was growing clearer by the second. 

“I said no probably a thousand times. Still joined.”

Your heart falls for him, sinks into your stomach as his walls visibly come down around him. He’s bare, vulnerable. 

“My mom always made me enter beauty pageants as a kid.” You blurt with a dry throat. “I uh-... I remember being up on stage with a face full of makeup feeling uglier than sin. Bunch of grown ass adults judging every micro movement I made. Really did a number on how I see myself now.”

“You ever win?” He asks. 

You stare into the ever burning cigarette. “No.”

“Never?”

You shake your head. “Never. My mom stopped enrolling me after I almost threw up on stage.” He raises a brow, and you sigh. “I had the flu and she made me go up anyway. Show had to go on. But… She was done after that. Never even really wanted to talk about it anymore, either. I feel like I really disappointed her but at least it was over, I guess.”

Nathan stares into his lap. After a beat of silence, he says, “My sister used to be into all that Little Miss America shit.”

Your view of him and his world grows a little wider. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

He nods dully. “Yeah. She’s out in Brazil. Got sick of my dad and went to go find herself or some shit.” His voice is tense, sarcastic with just a hint of something deeper. Hurt.

“Do you still talk to her?” 

“Sometimes.” He bites at his lip. “She talks to me, but-... I don’t know. She always wants me to get into her self-help crap and it’s just a bunch of bullshit.”

You shift your weight. “Not even interested in trying?”

He scoffs. “If my shrink can’t even figure my shit out, what the fuck is Brazil gonna’ do for me?”

“Getting away from your dad.” You answer bluntly, and he grimaces like he knew that’s what was coming. “Getting away from all this pointless shit.”

“Well if I was gonna’ bounce it wouldn’t be there.”

“Where would you go?” 

Nathan looks at you. Though it’s quick, fleeting, you see something in his eyes. Reflection. Wonder, even. Then he’s back to stone and shoving your question away with a half-assed shrug.

Before you can open your mouth to press a little harder, keep that same energy he’d been so kind to offer, he’s knitting his brows and staring at the cigarette you’d kept so safe and unsmoked in your fingers. He sighs. “You gonna’ smoke that or just let it burn?”

You jump a little. For a moment, you’d entirely forgotten it was there. For such a little stick of paper and herb, it felt awfully intimidating in your grasp. The smoke teased your senses, made your eyes water just a little. With a small, anxious swallow, you let out a soft breath.

Fuck it, you think to yourself.

You suck at the end and watch the red halo burn into a rush of red as thick smoke fills your mouth. Blowing the smoke out into the cramped room, you cock your head. No coughing, no ache in your chest. Just the rough taste of tobacco. Not what you’d been expecting in the slightest.

Nathan laughs at you.

“What?” You ask, knitting your brows together. 

“You have to actually smoke it, you know.” He snickers. “Like, breathe it in.”

You frown, cheeks reddening. “I just did.”

“No, you have to breathe it. Into your lungs.”

So, you try again. A little less nervy this time. You drag the cigarette up to your lips and suck, feeling the same flood of smoke fill your mouth. But, this time, you breathe into your waiting lungs, expecting it to be just the same as before. Oh, how wrong you were.

The very instant you heave in that breath, the smoke assaults your lungs and you’re sent into an instant coughing fit. It burns, it feels like it shreds your chest and throat, heaving coughs striking you as you struggle to get in another breath of air. Bursts of gray sputter from your lips like a broken tail pipe. Every breath hurts and your eyes water, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. For a moment, it feels as though you’d never get your breath back.

A flash of white blinds you for a second, another sense grabbing your attention. The mechanical sound of his camera reaches you as he prints a picture and shakes it to develop. 

“You fucker-” You struggle to speak, gasping for air. “T-Throw it Away-!”

Nathan just plucks the cigarette from your fingers, pockets the picture and laughs even as you shake your head. “Gotta make sure we keep the memory!”

“I feel like this is a blackmail moment.” You manage. You could only imagine what the picture looked like- you in all your virgin-lunged glory, red faced, puffy cheeks with billows of smoke entombing you. 

You’re still steadying your breath when Nathan plucks the cigarette from your fingers and draws in an effortless hit. It’s like he’s doing it to tease you- straight faced and lax meanwhile you were pawing away the tears in your eyes with heavy lungs. The settling never comes, your breath never fully returns from its shaky state, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s due to the hide-out being now chock full of thick, swirling gray. It takes a lot to ignore his snickering when you’re bounding off your ass and heading for the door. 

Cold air hits you like a bolt and slices through the assault in your chest. Finally, finally you suck in a full breath of precious air. The door swings open, then shut, and Nathan’s beside you once more. 

“Gonna’ make it?” He asks without bothering to hide the snark in his tone. 

“I think so.”

“How’s it feel to lose your cig virginity?” He asks, grinning slyly.

“It feels like lung cancer.” You answer flatly. 

Nathan shrugs. “It gets easier.”

You’re about to answer, but you’re stopped at the sudden bellowing song of a train's horn. It echoes from the distance, grabs both of your attention. A train barrels past through the valley of the trash, only mere yards away. It scares you for only a moment before you’re enamored in the colossal machine. Rocks and pebbles bounce to life as it hauls past. 

“Sweet,” You say breathlessly, watching metal and graffiti blur by. “I knew the tracks were close, but I didn’t realize it cuts right through here.”

Something draws you closer, and you follow it like a moth to flame. Eventually you’re so close, daring to inch a few feet away, the colossal beast howling in your ears. 

The wind picks your hair and clothes up, flutters it around you and has you closing your eyes as it rips past. It’s like nothing you’d ever felt before- a certain ring of adrenaline. You don’t notice it when Nathan snaps yet another unsuspecting photo of you, but you do notice the bullseye of the camera staring right back at you when you open your eyes. You also notice the expression on Nathan- one you hadn’t seen yet. Focused, and yet, softer than that. Fondness, almost. All aimed directly at you. It’s when he realizes you’re looking that you physically see his edges reharden. He straightens his back and blinks at you. 

“Another picture?” You shout over the deafening noise.

“Can’t waste a good opportunity.” He calls back, very of matter of factly, but you see the way he swipes the picture from his camera and drinks the sight in. You can tell the shot must have been a good one with the satisfied nod he gives subconsciously. 

The train is gone just as quickly as it came. It bellows in the distance as it disappears, taking the serene moment with it. Suddenly, once more, the world grows silent. 

“How do I look?” You reach out to grab the picture but he’s quick to swipe it from your grasp, rears back and crams it in his pocket. A frown draws over your lips. 

“Like shit,” He snarks. “That’s going on a christmas card for sure.”

You’d hoped he’d give you a passing glance given you were the subject but clearly he had no intentions of that, the photo long since disappearing in his jacket with the ongoing collection of pictures he’d snapped so far. It eats at you, in a way. Worries you. You knew his snark- surely you couldn’t look that bad. But…

What if you truly did look awful? You were never a fan of having your photo taken- always felt so awkward and out of place. So forced. You hated the idea of existing there in his pocket, or potentially in some binder, forever ugly and immortalized.

But then you remind yourself how he’d gazed at the picture with such softness, like it was perfect from top to bottom. A certain passing glance of appreciation you never knew you craved. 

Birds sing overheard, the clouds lazily draft by the sun just enough for a chill to creep up your spine. For a lingering moment, the two of you just stare off into the endless blue. But then that moment too, passes. You grow cold- you clutch your arms and goosebumps ride a shiver that tingles its way up your spine.

“I’m going back in.” You say. Nathan perks up, haloed by his cigarette’s trail of smoke. 

Despite the brick walls, the hide-out offers little warmth, but it’s enough. While you linger, he finds his spot once more wordlessly, languidly falls back against the wall and slides down until he’s nestled in his spot like he’d done it a million times before. He probably has, now that you think about it. He’d probably spent years in that exact spot, drawing on gritty walls and smoking the whole plot out. It makes you think about him and his past, what was once a blank canvas in your mind slowly adorning strokes of color and painting the picture that was Nathan Prescott.  He draws in a hit of his cigarette and tips his head back to sigh it back out. You wished, in that moment, you had a camera of your own. You want this version of him to stay. 

It sort of does, in a way. For that day at least. 

Because time drew on just like that- tossing bottles at the rubbly ground to see if they’d break or bounce, Nathan burning through his sticks of tobacco and you refusing with every passing offer. The sun hangs heavy on invisible strings and lowers to the treeline, peaks through the splintered roof and stripes gold along his pale skin. You both talk about nothing and everything. At one point, you make a joke, and he laughs. Not a snarky, bitter laugh. Real, deep in his chest. A hearty sound that lanced through you like lightning and settled in your gut with a truly pitted realization: you’d give anything to hear more of that.

You’re both so enthralled in each other's presence that you barely register the way the sky had melted from a bright blue, into a purple and red haze glowing hot over the horizon. Crickets sing in place of the birds, a crisp breeze picks up once more, reminds you that it’s getting late. Though it pains you, you’re the first to call it a day by standing up and stretching your arms high overhead. You don’t miss the way Nathan’s shoulders slump just a little- just enough when you grab the bat and hoist it over your shoulders. He’s reluctant, doesn’t move until you nudge his foot with your own, and even then he moves so slowly you can’t help but wonder if he’s stalling. 

“Got places to be?” He grunts, standing and grabbing his camera. 

“Sure do.” You follow his saunter out of the hide-out. “In my room, in bed.”

“Seriously? It’s barely even 8.”

“Gives me more time to think of why I ditched class today.”

Nathan gives you a sideways glance, guiding you through the junkyard. “I got one. It’s called not giving a shit.”

Easy to say when you don’t have to worry about your future. You think. But then, you kick yourself mentally, because you know that’s not true. You know he worries- now more than ever. You press your lips into a tight line all the way to Nathan’s truck. Always the gentleman, the boy opens the door for you and motions for you to hop in. 

His driving is just as reckless back as it is on the way to the junkyard, giving you the urge to grab the handle on the door to brace yourself. The camera in your lap is heavy and you can’t help but want to fidget with it. So, naturally, you do. You can’t help picking it up and pawing at it like an uncultured beast. 

“Break it, you buy it.” He says nonchalantly, and you cringe. Thing probably costs more than your life was worth. 

Upclose, you can see just how many buttons and dials cover all the settings. It feels more like a computer than a camera, the high technology of it making you worry the slightest mistake would have it glitching out in your hands. It makes sense- of course Sean Prescott would ensure Nathan had nothing but the best. Or maybe, Nathan had bought it himself with his old, old money. It probably wasn’t even a splurge, just a simple staple of their lifestyle. 

You glance over at him, the pompous heir. He’s drawn another cigarette and it rests between his lips, left arm slung out the window. Your eyes follow the shape of him, his broad shoulders down to his right hand wrapped around the steering wheel. The way the sun graces the outline of him captivates you. This time, you do have a camera.

“How do you work this?” You ask, pressing a random button. The camera lights to life in your hands. 

Nathan, without looking over at you, says, “You press the button, that’s how.”

“Awesome.” You can see him through the little digital screen. He looked beautiful, picture perfect. The ocean makes a wonderful landscape. Your finger dances over the countless buttons, and then, click. The camera shutters and in the blink of an eye Nathan glares at you so sharply you wonder if it gave him whiplash. All his attention is ripped from the road and funnels onto you and that damned camera. It spits out a photo and drops into your lap. 

“What the fuck,” He huffs, swipes hands on the steering wheel and swipes at the picture. “Don’t fuck around with that thing!”

You pull the picture away from his grabbing hand, grinning. “Nope! This one’s all mine!”

“It’s my camera, dipshit.”

“Too bad. Wanna trade? You can give up the one of me smoking.”

“That one’s mine, too. Now hand it over. 

You pretend to give it some thought. Let him marinade while you hold the picture just barely out of his wiry grasp. 

“I’ve given it some thought, and, well…” You sigh dramatically. “No.”

“You fucking bitch.” He shakes his head and grits his teeth. “What for? Huh? Gonna show it off to all your little friends?”

You open your mouth to retort, but then you stop for a beat. 

Friends.

“First of all, what friends?” You scoff. “Second of all, it’s a good photo! You should be thanking me. I even got Arcadia Bay in the background. It’s gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous.” Nathan rolls his eyes. “Where? Behind all the drug dealers and phony ass hipsters? 

“Nathan, you’re a drug dealer.”

He eyes you. “Still stands.”

Your eyes fall, voice softening. “Arcadia Bay is pretty.”

You don’t see it, but he tosses his attention to the water spanning broad over the evening horizon. “I guess the water’s not too bad.” He admits. It’s enough to perk you up, a faint smile tugging at your lips. 

By the time he turns off the coastal road to something more winding, it’s well past curfew. In the forefront you see the looming building of Blackwell return to your vision. Your stomach sinks just a little realizing the day truly was coming to an end. He turns off to the dorms and nearly whips into the parking lot before he slams the breaks, white knuckling the steering wheel. You lurch forward in your seat at the sudden stop- grabbing hard onto the camera so it can’t go plundering to your feet.

“Dude! What?” You huff. 

“Madison- that fucking freak!” Nathan sneers with narrowed eyes. You glance over the stretching parking lot and feel a pit settle in your gut at the sight of Madison standing at the boys dorm entrance, arms crossed and standing tall as ever. You knew exactly what he was looking for, and it was sitting right beside you. 

“Fuck, we’re way past curfew. He’s gonna ream us.” You murmur.

Nathan chews at his lip, drills his foot onto the gas and speeds past the boys dorm and towards the girls. “If he’s gonna stalk my ass, at least be subtle about it. Fuck it. I’ll just drop you off and crash at some friends.”

“Stay at mine.” You’re blurting out the words before you can even stop yourself. So quick it shocks you. 

“What now?” He turns his entire body to you, seemingly just as surprised. 

You nervously fidget with your fingers, swallowing hard and scrambling for a way to explain yourself that didn’t show your obvious desperation. “What, do I not fit the ‘some friend’ criteria?” 

“You’re inviting me in?” He raises a brow. “Last time you couldn’t get me out fast enough.”

Last time. You remember it in flashes- being backed into the corner of your own dorm and witnessing first hand Nathan’s flashes of raging emotions. Feeling the full brunt of him box you in, nowhere to go. You remembered how terrifying he has been. 

And how exhilarating it had felt. 

You swipe your tongue over your lips. “I’ve slept in your room how many times now? I’d feel like kind of a piece of shit if I didn’t offer you this solid.” 

Nathan eyes you suspiciously, a look you’ve come quite familiar with. But then it softens. “I mean, if you insist. Better not get all weird on me, though. No drinks, and minute I start feeling dizzy it’s over.”

“Jesus christ.” You grunt with a sharp eye roll, masking your relief. “Now why the hell would I need to do all that?”

“I dunno. I don’t know what weird shit you’ve got going on there.”

“Homework and self loathing.”

Nathan snickers. “Then honestly, I think I prefer the roofies.”

You shove his arm and he laughs again, pulls into a parking space in the far corner of the lot and rolls the windows shut. Quick thoughts pester at you, poke at your brain and bounce off your thick dome of a skull. 

What if someone sees him? There were already so many rumors floating through the narrow half of Blackwell, your name echoed and drug through the mud with every passing day. It was new to you- a strange form of popularity. It made you want to bury your head, go back to the days before college where you were a proper nobody with nothing to offer to anyone except a few sarcastic zingers here and there from the back of the class. It was easier back than. 

You chew at your lip in thought. 

It was strange to have your own name tossed back at you from total strangers. Back in highschool you worked hard to withhold a reputation that was held deep below the radar. Quiet, unintrusive. Nothing to see or hear. The lack of attention was lonely, sure, but it was worth it when you saw what happened to the few friends you had with louder prescenses. There was safety in the isolation. You’d witnessed vulgar names scribbled on their lockers, their papers smacked from their hands in the hallways. Always had to watch over their backs simply because they had a voice and the heart to do something with it. Despite the raging seas behind your eyes, you kept yourself so at bay that you lacked any depth at all to the observing eye. 

But, from your very core, you were nothing if not a bitter, repressed spectator. 

So now you had no idea how to navigate these murky waters. If not for Nathan, you’d be lost floating in the void that was the first stages of social suicide. Outcast from your friend group, a vicious sexual rumor. To know it was all founded on lies made you want to tear out your hair. 

But, you didn’t. You barely even barked let alone bit and then you let Nathan handle it- and he did it with ease. Vindictive, impulsive and brazen ease. You knew it the day you saw him fighting out in the school's parking lot, and you still knew it now: He was a force to be reckoned with. 

And you were sitting in his truck, inviting him into your room. And he accepted. 

So maybe, truly, nothing else mattered but that. 

You watch Nathan mindlessly as he pulls his keys from the ignition and leans on the steering wheel before he grabs a small shoulder bag from his back seat. After fishing the pictures out from his pocket, he tosses them in the bag alongside his camera. 

The trip to your dorm went smoother than you’d thought. You’d guided him to the far side of the building where your trusty window remained open, barely open enough to notice but the perfect amount of room for you to wiggle your fingers into the opening and haul it up. You crawled in, dragged Nathan and his lanky limbs through, and made your way to your room. To your shock. Nathan took the lead. Led the path to your own room and leaned on the frame waiting for you like he’d done it a million times before. 

The moment you unlocked the door, he was shoving inside with no hesitation as if he owned the place. He takes in the state of your room, immediately judging you. There was an unmade bed, and a few posters on the wall. A TV mounted on a shitty little coffee table against the wall across from your bed and a small computer desk that held your cheap laptop in its wooden hands. A pile of clothes rests in a tipped over hamper, a cluster of papers scatter over a nightstand, some laying discarded on the floor. You own a single stuffed animal and it sits in proud display among your crumpled blankets- a little brown teddy.  

What a mess.

“Wow.” He says flatly. You swallow.

“I haven't had a lot of time to clean.” You say quickly. “And to be honest, I’ve been fucking exhausted.”

“It’s better than last time. Less crackden and more of a… Slightly better crackden.” He grins. “A crack home.”

The scoff that leaves you doesn't go unnoticed by him.

Nathan makes quick work to start sorting through nearly everything you owned after he sets his bag down at the edge of your bed. The first victim was your nightstand, to which he rudely ripped the drawer open and began pawing through the random items you'd tossed in. Half empty packs of gum and crumpled receipts were swiped to the side to reveal even more junk. Next was your computer- the mouse being jostled to spring your screen to life. 

Luckily there wasn’t anything too tantalizing- just the home screen of Blackwell's online site and a few youtube tabs. In that moment you realized this was simply a taste of your own medicine- payback for you dragging his glove box open and sorting through his shit like you didn’t have a care in the word. Turns out, he was right. It is pretty violating. 

There’s a moment where you almost stop him when he plucks the stuffed bear from your bed. Your hand moves at your side just barely, just enough for him to see.

“What are you, five?” He snorts. 

You frown.

“It’s, uh… My grandpa’s. He gave it to me before he died, and I didn’t feel right tossing it.”

It’s shocking when Nathan pauses at that. You fully expected him to laugh at you, toss it to the floor, do something just so painfully and evilly him, but… He doesn’t. He looks at you with a blank expression and then eyes the bear, gives it a subtle squeeze before he’s tossing it back on the blankets without a word. The mental image of his definitely existing heart grows larger in your mind. The canvas in your mind earns another stroke of vibrant color.

“Well now, what do we have here?” A stack of movies by the tv catches his eyes. He fingers through the stack, which is comprised of a few horror movies and early 2000’s comfort shows. “Didn’t know you were into slashers.”

You shrug. “You never asked.”

Before you know it, he’s standing and tossing a DVD case onto the bed. Scream 2. 

“Put it on.” He damn near demands, and if you weren’t already a little excited at getting some movie-time in, you’d have wanted to smack him upside the head. But, alas. Scream 2 is too good of a movie to pick a fight over, and you also don’t know if you’ll get this chance with him again. You’re almost positive that watching a movie with Nathan isn’t exactly a commonplace in Aracdia Bay.  

While you’re getting the movie started on the tv, he’s busy behind you making sure to get nice and comfortable in your bed. He even takes his shoes off and tucks himself under the blankets, and you try to not zero-in on the fact that he’s getting his outside clothes all over your washed sheets. He probably wouldn't even give a shit if you did fuss. The animal.

But you can’t deny the buzzing thrill you feel under your skin when you settle in beside him, keeping plenty of room for jesus. This was different then the other times you’d slept side by side. This was something… Softer. Something more intimate in a way that almost made you so nervous your stomach was churning. This time, relaxing together, enjoying a nice movie and warm blankets, it was all intentional and wanted. No anger, no bitterness. 

But then you remember how, even with all that, you’d woken up with him wrapped so tightly around you that one morning it was hard to breathe. His fingers pressed into your skin, his face nuzzled so perfectly in the crook of your neck. The morning sun warmed your skin. It felt like how a painting looked- so perfect in every little detail. It almost felt like a dream. 

With each passing adventure, you grew to accept that somehow life was determined to draw you two together, even despite the different worlds you lived in. Though the battle was hard, you felt like you were winning, worlds bleeding into each other just right. 

You’d made it out of the woods and into that beautiful, scorching sun. 

The movie starts, and you both seem to let yourself melt into it. 

-----

You hadn’t realized you fell asleep until a loud, shrill scream rips you from your slumber. 

Your stomach plummets into your guts, heart thrashing in your chest, damn sure that someone must be getting sliced and diced somewhere in the halls. But instead of a gruesome blood bath seeping under the crack of your door, you’re instead met with your TV screen. The color floods the room, basking it in disorienting waves of red as some poor woman on screen chopped to bits. You rub at your eyes and wipe away the dreariness before you start rummaging through the blankets to find the remote. You don’t find the remote, but you do find Nathan. 

He’s out cold, passed the hell out on his back with his arm thrown over his face and everything. The steady rise and fall of his chest helps your heart rate fall back down to where it belongs, your nerves beginning to settle. You peek around the edge of the bed, wondering if maybe it’d toppled onto the floor. Once again you find something else- this time in the shape of a bag. It lays on its side, items scattered about haphazardly. You realize you must have kicked his bag off during your minor fit, so begrudgingly you drag the warm blankets from your legs and let yourself sink to the floor. 

The thought of rummaging through Nathan’s personal goods doesn’t even strike you until you pick up a plastic bottle, bright orange with a little white label. Diazepam. Another little bottle catches your eye and you grab it, too, without shame. Risperidone. You hadn’t heard of the second, but you had heard of the first. A sedative, you were pretty sure. Your heart falls just a little even though you knew you shouldn’t be shocked. This was Nathan, afterall. Dude has problems. You knew he was seeing a psychiatrist, but for some reason you hadn’t considered him medicating himself. You wondered if it was his choice or his dad’s, a desperate attempt to regain control over his son.

You tuck the bottles into his bag and try to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest. The rest of the contents were to be expected- his keys, some receipts, a little baggy with a few unlabeled pills and then of course his trusty cigarettes. You’re about to zip the bag back up when something slightly under the bed catches your eyes. 

Photos. Quite a few of them too- a small pile of outside shots. The first few were shattered glass and the unfortunate remains of the day you two had had. And then two more.

The first polaroid is exactly what you were afraid of: you, wrapped in a veil of smoke, eyes squeezed shut all red-faced and sputtering. It was everything you had been afraid of since the moment you saw the flash go off. You’re so tempted to tear it to shreds but you refrain- long enough to take note of the other picture. It’s heavy in your fingers, eyes scanning over the image before you. 

It punches the air from your lungs. 

It’s you, again. But it was different this time. Your hair flows around your head like a crown, the train blurring by grabbing leaves and wind. Your clothes ruffle as it drags by. The photo he’d taken at the junkyard. It was perfect, the composition just right and the timing impeccable. And you. You never considered yourself on the pretty side of the scale, but you couldn’t stop the wonder that struck you staring down at that picture. 

You never looked so beautiful. You looked so alive. 

Your eyes travel up the side of the bed, where you peek at Nathan, this man you let into your room and welcomed into your bed. The stark contrasts of him between things not exactly inherently good or bad. His eye for perfection, his urges to destroy. Between the drugs and the outlandish ability to make you see yourself as something worth photographing for the first time in your life. How he cursed at you with every other word but insisted on keeping this little laminated version of you close to him. 

The garrish, raging fire inside of him with a soft, blue core. 

Quickly, you tuck the photos back into the bag. Even the ugly one, that suddenly doesn't seem so ugly anymore. You pick the bag up and set it on the nightstand, revealing the remote. You can’t help but laugh. It really did feel like the world was aligning to draw you closer to him- like not falling in love with him wasn’t an option anymore. 

The bed is more than welcoming when you crawl back in. He’s so warm beside you, and even warmer when he subconsciously wraps himself around you. Your heart stutters, breath caught in your throat. It’s just like the other morning in his dorm, caged against him like a willing bird. He hums breaths onto your neck. His heart beats rhythmically against your back. It’s perfect, and you sink into him like you were meant for it. Like two little puzzle pieces with frayed edges planted into the wrong sets.

Like even if the words hadn’t been said, you were his lover. His girl.

[casualwriters]

Summary: Nathan comes to the one person beside Victoria he trusts, and you, when he has a mental breakdown,  are there to calm him down. 

Warnings ⚠️ Spoilers for LIS, mental breakdowns, underage smoking , Marijuana.

pairing ~ Nathan Prescott x poc fem reader

A/n ~ I love writing this side of Nathan just so adorable had fun doing this small fic.

Finally Having a day off, you were stuck in your dorm, leaning back against the pillow, sighing, and going through some of the pictures. This was hard, but some of them were okay. and you been into

photography, for a while and most of the pictures were of Nathan and some of Victoria; both of them were photogenic and good, so why not use Victoria for that? Picking up one of the pictures, a smile came onto your face and than there was one of you but would that really work.

Standing in front of Nathan in full swing was one of the Vortex parties. Clearly, both of you were waisted or on something. His head was nuzzled into your neck and kissing your skin, and both of you were smiling and happy. 

Grabbing the lighter, holding the bong in your hand, and taking a hit, the sound of bubbles and the smoke envading your lungs Blowing the smoke into the air, you saw the door open. "Nate?" you asked, setting the bong on the ground. Standing up, you saw him walk in. He looked furious. "Hey," he said. You could tell he was just trying to keep his cool. You wanted to walk over and just give him a huge hug, but you knew better. 

"Fucking Max!" He raised his voice, making you sit down on your bed. You were just here to listen. "She has to put her fucking noise in everything," he said, pushing off from the door frame he was leaning on and walking forward. It looked like he was going to cry, but he never cried. "Nate, come here," you said, stepping up from your bed and walking closer. If any normal person had even tried to talk to him, he would have flipped and gone crazy. "Y/n, I can't do this anymore," he said, his voice stern and his face growing red and in tears, but you could tell it was deeper than that not just about Max Mabye, his dad? 

Nathan pulled away. His eyes were red and puffy from crying into your shoulder; he looked like he was a mess. He was finally breaking down and showing the people, and you turned around to see him looking at the pictures. that were on your bed, you could see the small smile on his face when he walked to your bed and picked up one of the pictures. It was you. Sitting in your dorm room, Christmas lights were over your skin, and the light was dark, but there was some light in the middle. You were posing while sitting, and your back was turned to the camera. "This one," he waved to you. His face was still sad, and anger was in his eyes. "Mr. Jefferson would have to pick this one." 

You sat down on the bed, and Nathan followed. He did not mind having his eyes closed, and some tears were falling down. Wrapping him in a hug, you kissed his head, and Nathan looked down at the picture. "You are beautiful; you know that, right?" It was rare. Nathan was never really verbal with his feelings and never had his guard down, but it was refreshing to see it. 

Holding Nathan, he was laying his head on your chest. Hearing your heart beat and chuckling a little, you nodded. "You told me before," you said, and Nathan chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Don't forget it, Princess," he says. 

[mediocrewallflow3r]

A sneak peek of To be Loved and Have Loved for my LIS fans... 👀. As always my writing is explicit and not for minors! Shoo!

Nathan falls hard onto his elbows, his softening cock resting right up against your clit. Gentle shushes come from his mouth while his right hand comes up to cradle your head. Your legs feel like melting Jell-o - your mind is even worse off.

I’ve never seen her more relaxed.

“You were such a good girl for me, baby, look at you all tired out,” Nathan coos softly, his free hand coming up to caress your red cheek. “I’ve never seen you so fuckin’ tired,” he chuckles out in amusement at your post-sex state. His cum and your slick stain the ridiculously high-thread-count sheets adorning the bed. “Yovuer goaneh soafht,” you mumble out, incoherently.

“What?” Nathan asks with his head tilting in confusion.

His bruised knuckles brush gently against your chin, causing your glazed-over eyes to meet his.

Your swollen cherry-red pout parts, quietly you try once more: “You’ve gone soft,”.

Nathan snorts softly and a slight smirk rests on his lips.

“I suppose, just a little damn bit,”.

Your head begins lulling to the side, resting your cheek on Nathan’s silk pillowcases. The soft scent of vanilla and traces of his expensive cologne fill your senses allowing you to breathe deeply. A feeling of deep relaxation flows through your body- the first time you’ve been relaxed since Nathan’s life first entangled with yours.

Nathan moves to get up- you whine quietly- allowing his fingers to brush gently over yours he promises quickly: “I’ll be back, don’t pull a muscle nerd,” amusement tinging his tone. Despite the childish grabby hands you’re making at him, Nathan pulls on a pair of boxers looking back at you with sparkling eyes. Slowly, you smile at him, a smile so innocent Nathan feels a layer of ice melting around his goddamn heart.

Reluctantly, he pulls away from you and begins padding into his bathroom. Quickly, he’s opening up the cabinets looking for some kind of soft cloth, panic setting in when he discovers he doesn’t remember at all where things are in this cursed house. Thoughts are running rampant in his head as minutes tick by: what if she thinks I don’t care, I shouldn’t have left her, fuck, she’s going to leave me.

His bruised hands yank a soft washcloth out of one of the cabinets, his other hand fumbling with the sink handles. Warm water flows out quickly while Nathan shoves the cloth underneath. After a few seconds, he’s bolting out of the bathroom and back to you.

[slasherscream]

my girl can wear whatever she wants tiers please for crazy ass boys gang!!!

CRAZY ASS BOYS GANG + MY GIRL CAN WEAR WHATEVER SHE WANTS TIERS

❥ my girl can wear whatever she want cause I can fight ❥

Billy Loomis - When you look particularly good his arm might as well be glued to your waist. He's both possessive and protective. He hates the way everyone's eyes devour you, but can't help how prideful it makes him either. Yeah, you want her. Of course you want her. Everyone does. But only I have her. God help the idiot that's stupid enough to open their mouth and not just look.

Jordan Li - They love watching you put your outfits together. They make suggestions from your bed, glancing up at you every few minutes. They can't help it. Their eyes are drawn to you permanently. No matter how crowded the room they can find you in a second. Whenever there's a party Jordan loves watching everyone try to sneak quick glances at you. They jump like rabbits when they wind up meeting Jordan's eyes and watch that smile that Jordan only wears around you fall back into the usual scowl. No one wants to be caught staring at Jordan's girl.

Arvin Russell - It's not possible for you to feel fear in public when you're with Arvin. You could be wearing straight lingerie in the most dangerous city in the world at 2 am and be safe. He's not just ready to protect you but hungry for it. Every time he proves he'll fight till his knuckles are bloody and bruised over you he watches you walk a little more confidently. Shine a little brighter. Knowing that he's there to protect you has only made you more yourself every day. And Arvin? He's obsessed with the transformation that the safety net of his fierce protection has ignited within you.

Jason Dean/JD - You wish he'd only fight people over what you're wearing. Unfortunately, this is not the case. JD pulls out a gun. Not every time, granted. Just a large majority of the time. In his defense, how is he supposed to act when someone has the audacity to cat call you? Do you expect him to just watch and not care as you experience that brief shiver of fear that runs up your spine when a man whistles at you before following it up with even more salacious words? If you feel fear, he'll make them feel fear. Simple.

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - If someone is stupid enough to not recognize him before they say anything to you about what you're wearing they will quickly recognize the tentacle wrapped around their throat. "Apologize." He hisses through gritted teeth, increasing the pressure, knowing just how much strength he can use before it would break their neck. How he ever expects anyone to apologize to you with a giant tentacle wrapped around their wind pipe you don't know. This is the second time this month. You're running out of night clubs you're not banned from.

David Mccall - You walk out of the house with the confidence that only someone who's done 12 tours over seas should have. But no, you just have a boyfriend who is incredibly scary. You've watched him almost break a man's hand for brushing it against yours at a crowded bar while he reached for his drink. You don't even think before you throw on an outfit anymore.

❥ my girl can wear whatever she want because she a hoe and I knew that before we started dating ❥

Josh Washington - Could he fuck someone up if needed? Yes, but he feels no need to. As long as you're not in danger or being disrespected Josh loves the way you express yourself through your look. You're hot and beautiful, of course you wear stuff that's short or tight, or both. If he looked like you he'd do the same thing. People don't usually say anything to you anyways, since he's always pressed to you like a second skin. He's not a jealous guy, but he is a chronic clinger.

Stu Macher - Is probably the person wolf whistling you in the first place. Points at you from across the room when you're talking to other people and says, "That's my girl right there. She's smoking, right?" He will always be smug he pulled you and NEVER shut up about it. The more wild you dress the more smug he gets. People can look all they want. But you only want him. What's there not to brag about?

Kevin Khatchadourian - Kevin above anyone else would thoroughly understand your psyche before dating you. He's involved with you because, somehow, you intrigued him against all odds. He already expected and predicted with near perfect accuracy every step of the relationship. Skimpy outfits are not throwing him. Can he fight? Yes. But, frankly, if someone pisses him off by hitting on you swinging on them is not gonna satisfy him. He's more of a "put their fingerprints at a crime scene so their life is ruined" type of get back. If he decides not to kill them.

Sebastian Valmont - Sebastian is the one buying you more hoe clothes. He loves your style and is not insecure. If either of you wanted someone else, you could go get them. But you two were practically made for each other. He wants to show you off. Is never going to be the type to try and dull your shine. He wants to walk into a room with you and have jaws drop from the deadly combination of the way you look together. He thrives off of seeing how much people want you. Knowing how futile it is. How hopeless. He pulls you tight into his side and grins like the devil himself (also, and this knowledge is of utmost importance, he cannot fight for shit.)

❥ my girl can wear whatever she want cus I’m scared of her ❥

Nathan Prescott - Is possessive, jealous and insecure enough to absolutely want you to change what you're wearing. With anyone else he'd even be bold enough to tell them to change. You are not anyone else, though. You are you. Considering every other behavior you tolerate from Nathan on a monthly, weekly, daily, and hourly basis you would snap on him like a twig if he tried to bring one more red flag on board. He knows this. You know this. When you slide on your low rise jeans and the tiniest crop top known to man, you make eye contact with one another in the mirror. He looks away first. You go back to peacefully fixing up your hair. Upside, no one is crazy enough to actually hit on you when you're at parties held on campus together. Which means Nathan won't have the cops called on him. Hooray!

[pristinekanesays]

🦋Life Is Strange: How It's Like Sleeping Next To Them.

🦋 some sappy headcanons 'cause im bored

🐺 GN!Reader, no specific pronouns are mentioned!

🦋 warnings: cutesy romantic stuff eugh, swearing, nathan's dad being a sexist asshole, nightmares.

🎧A/N: I bought Before The Storm but I'm not a big fan of the Remastered versions of Life Is Strange, it just doesn't feel the same? I love the blank faces while someone is literally dying.

🦋Chloe Price:

♡ Usually wakes up on her stomach but falls asleep on her back.

ツIt's literally a nightmare to sleep beside her, she snores, turns and tosses the whole night and talks in her sleep.

♡ Listens to music while she falls asleep, headphones in or playing on her radio alarm clock.

ツSurprisingly, not a blanket stealer, she literally kicks any sort of warmth off of her at night because she moves around so much.

♡ Nightmares, in Before The Storm and Life Is Strange, they're just not as vivid and real as they were before. She wakes up and checks if you're still there, it's comforting for her to see you asleep.

ツIt's rare for her to fall asleep at a healthy time and even if she does, she'll wake up A LOT during the night.

♡ She tends to sleep in a lot and accidentally (sometimes purposely) leaves people/you on read because she rarely hears the notifications.

ツHeavy sleeper.

🍂Kate Marsh:

♡ Falls asleep on her back and wakes up on her back.

ツShe's like a calm mother bird, will play with your hair and you can't tell me she wouldn't fucking softly sing you to sleep. (oh my god)

♡ It helps her sleep when you're there, she likes looking at you and thinking about how grateful she is.

ツWill talk to you for hours when she should really be sleeping, talking about her drawings, classes or the bird she saw like last month.

♡ She tries to make sure to fall asleep at a healthy time, she plans her day out but is sometimes so busy studying that she completely forgets.

ツDepends on the day if she's a blanket stealer that night, if it's warm, she sees no need for any blankets but if it's freezing cold then you're the one suffering.

♡ Light sleeper, like you get up and suddenly she's getting up with you.

📷Max Caulfield:

♡ Falls asleep on her side or her back but always wakes up on her back.

ツIt's not that bad sleeping next to Max, she'll maybe move a little during the night but nothing super major.

♡ HUGE blanket stealer, she knows what she's doing and will just smile and laugh if you confront her.

ツShe'll decide on sleeping then suddenly she needs to look something up or study and forgets that she needs sleep to survive until an hour or so later.

♡ Falls asleep pretty easily but if she can't she'll just wait a few minutes then go on a whole rant about her day and how she was hanging with Chloe the whole time.

ツSort of a light sleeper, if you need to go anywhere you've gotta crawl there or something.

🎭Rachel Amber:

♡ Falls asleep on her side and wakes up on her back.

ツLike Victoria, she has a whole routine before bed. Skincare, posting and scrolling through her socials, listening to music.

♡ Not a blanket stealer thankfully but she can be though depending on the temperature.

ツShe can also spend hours talking to you like Kate does, mainly talking about how drama's going for her or how badly she wants to leave Arcadia Bay.

♡ She mainly sticks to her healthy sleep schedule with no interruptions unless something major happens, like when she found out her dad was cheating on her mom. (pretty understandable.)

ツShe's a heavy sleeper, you gotta shake her a few times like she's a fucking salt shaker.

🎬 Victoria Chase:

♡ Oh jesus, she sleeps in ANY position like she could be hanging off the bed and still fall asleep. Mostly falls asleep on her back though, wakes up basically on the floor.

ツTakes hours doing her skincare and her skin is honestly GLOWING afterwards, face masks, expensive ass skin creams in those teeny tiny bottles, soft music playing in the background.

♡ BLANKET STEALER, BLANKET STEALER! Like she'll pull the blanket off of you while you're still awake and act extremely confused when you look at her with an annoyed look.

ツShe can maybe gossip a little before she falls asleep halfway during the conversation, you know because she starts sleep talking about the most random shit.

♡ Sticks to her sleep schedule, no matter what. Like there could be a whole loud ass fight in the hall but she just rolls her eyes or picks a fight with them before falling asleep.

ツHeavy sleeper, she has to set a shit ton of alarms and only you/Nathan know because she's really embarrassed about it.

🎮Warren Graham:

♡ Dorky dork who falls asleep on his stomach and wakes up on his back or halfway off of the bed.

ツRoutine? Skincare? Nah, he's just a natural cutie.

♡ Moves a lot during the night and accidentally smacked the shit out of you once during the night, he was actually worried but nervously laughing the whole time, sleep talks a lot about the funniest, weirdest shit ever.

ツNah, not a blanket stealer.

♡ Shitty fucking sleep schedule, he's always up studying or playing video games and you'll wake up at 4AM and he's still playing or he's somehow fell asleep with the controller still in his hands.

ツOn a good day, he'll be asleep by 2:30AM but on a bad day he's probably pulling an all nighter.

♡ Heavy sleeper, like scream in his ear and his body will shift a little but he's (still) asleep

🧨Nathan Prescott:

♡ Can't believe I feel bad for this man but he'll pick a position and stick with it the whole night.

ツHis dad's a fucking asshat who told him doing skincare as a man is bad, but he takes care of his skin privately and feels really guilty about it after.

♡ Okay, everyone I write for has to hold you or be held in some way while sleeping but Nathan is on a WHOLE different level. An arm wrapped tightly around you that won't move no matter what, his head tucked into your neck or his leg wrapped around your waist. (no, no..why is he attractive??)

ツNightmares, really terrifying nightmares that are so fucking specific and vivid. He wakes up shaking and goes back to sleep (if he ever does) shaking.

♡ Blanket? Fuck your needs, the blankets his now.

ツHORRIBLE SLEEP SCHEDULE?! Like he's up at 5AM smoking weed and slumped over a chair with his eyes closed.

♡ All nighters sometimes, normally falls asleep at 4AM or later. (teach him how to sleep, wtf.)

ツLight sleeper, he wakes up immediately when he hears you moving and instantly thinks you're gonna leave and become a banana or something (dumbass dude)

[meshla-cyarika]

Sleeping hcs

🦋 Okay, I'm telling you now, this man sleeps like a rock any other time he's asleep, but when he's with you all you have to do is ruffle the bed covers a little too much and he's awake, thinking you're going to leave him like everyone else has done. You can thank his dad for that.

🦋 He has to sleep holding onto you in someway. Whether it's grabbing onto your arm or keeping your legs entangled with his. Oh, and if you try and squirm out of his hold, he'll just hold on tighter.

🦋 When it comes to sleeping positions, he'll never admit it but his favourite is just tucking his face into the crook of your neck with your arms around him. He's always the little spoon aswell. Despite this, he won't hesitate to hold you instead if you need some comforting aswell.

🦋 He doesn't move alot in his sleep, just occasionally turning around to lay on his other side and his hands manage to grasp you subconsciously.

🦋 Probably the worst thing about having to sleep with Nathan is that he has a fucked up sleep schedule. Like, you'll wake up at five in the morning and find him smoking out of his dorm's window. But then, they'll be times where he doesn't wake up till eleven in the morning. Please, get this man's sleep schedule sorted out. #sendhelp 😭

[nighttime-horrors]

☼︎ Long Nights ☼︎

⊹ฺ Characters: Nathan Prescott (Life is Strange)

⊹ฺ Contains: 18+ Nathan and Reader; Fluff; (Very obvious) Allusion to bondage; Can be read platonically; Set before/within the events of Life is Strange (pre-storm); Short and sweet; SFW; 666 words

⊹ฺ Note: A result of nostalgia and encouragement. I hope you guys enjoy it. ♡

(While it is SFW, I have an MDNI on just for the bondage involved.)

— ♡ Minors and Ageless Blogs DNI! ♡ —

God, he's beautiful.

Stood before you, fiddling with a tripod and his camera, was Nathan Prescott. He was a troubled boy, who, ultimately and deep down, had a good heart. In many ways, he was a stereotypical, douchy, rich boy, flaunting his father's wealth and influence as though it were his own. By some miracle, though, you were able to see through that.

It wasn't immediate by any means. The walls that Nathan had built around himself were monumental. He was jaded and temperamental because the world had taught him that he had no other choice; to Nathan, people didn't want to know him to know him, but rather what they could gain from him. So many or his responses were defensive and reactionary with his mental health being an added contributor.

But with you, right now, in his dorm room, that wasn't the case. Most times with you, being defensive and angry weren't the case. Right now was different, though. There were multiple things that were contributing to Nathan's state of calm; remembering to take his meds, being in his bedroom (the only safe place he had to lose it), and you, sitting pretty on his bed.

There were a few little clicks from the tripod, and likely smaller ones from buttons or dials that you couldn't hear or understand before Nathan looked back at you from over his camera. The lighting in his room was dim, but you knew there was something in his eyes when he looked at you. You could feel it. The intensity of it all was almost dizzying. You knew that even with how he was studying the way you looked through the camera for his shots, you knew he was also focused on all of the details of your body. Every roll, freckle, out of place hair– anything you may or may not deem to be perfect.

Taking himself away from the camera, Nathan came to stand in front of you. He seemed so imposing in that moment, all big and covered in shadows. The shadows somehow added to his intimidation factor. It was something you often forgot was possible – Nathan Prescott being able to somehow be more imposing than he already was.

You supposed that was your fault, though. You were caught in a strange position of being able to actually perceive Nathan. While he showed himself to be cocky and in control, you have seen him be the exact opposite. And even though Nathan seemed so scary as he loomed over you, there was still a sense of calm around him. The only thing that had you shake was anticipation. You didn't know his next move and you couldn't deny the excitement whirling in your stomach.

One of his hands came up to sit on the top of your head for a moment. A soft gesture that made your cheeks heat up, a small smile pulling at your lips. That same hand then slid down your cheek to softly cup your jaw, carefully moving your head to different positions and you giggled. You didn't know if it was meant to be silly, but you certainly thought it was. You earned an amused scoff.

"You're so weird." Nathan stated, crouching down in front of you so he could look at the ropes skillfully wrapped around your wrists.

"Just for you." You smiled, watching him as he checked his work. Fingers moved between the rope and your skin, making sure nothing was too tight, double-checking the knots he made.

He cupped your face again, making you look down at him. "You ready?"

You take in an excited breath, suddenly remembering why you were there in Nathan's bedroom and all tied up. Like you were back in your body again, after completely letting go for him. You were only present enough to answer him, though. "Yeah." Your eyes followed Nathan as he pushed himself back up to go back to his camera, a wide grin threatening to hurt your face.

[that-damn-fouth-chaosemerald]

I’ve been getting into life is strange and I was always curious. What if Mark Jefferson had a daughter and they moved because his wife just left him a note and ran off. His anger comes out and destroys the apartment. He manipulates his kid when this happens, wanting to maintain the little control he has. They move to Arcadia Bay and his kid adjusts well considering. Then he takes Nathan under his wing to help get his hobby going. Then he finds out that Nathan has been taking photos of his daughter when she’s not looking…….serial killer side of him comes out and makes it very clear to Nathan his daughter is off limits from their little hobby.

—❢ー

×A/N×

omg I really love the last sentence of this

I mean- I love all of this, but-

I know that it would be better if I would write an oneshot of this, but the last time when I did the same thing with a promised oneshot, the work was... pretty bad-

I hope you don't mind it! ^^"

Btw I'm happy about you're planning to join to the LiS community, or at least you're curious/interested about it! Unfortunately in my social group there aren't really people who knows the fandom, so I'm always happy about new fans! ^^

And sorry bc I didn't answer this inbox, I just wanted to get done with the Welcome Home headcanons :")

Anyway, in these hcs I will be a bit negative about Mark, but I still love him -//w//-

(I'm actually planning to write more x readers about him-)

×❢ About my work ❢×

fluff and definitely not fluff, dad moments, Mark is not the greatest father, there's also my thoughts in this, pls forgive him, this is not x reader, (bad) father-daughter realtionship, no pronouns used, but the reader is female, spelling mistakes, mention of kidnapping, mention of the Dark Room

Fandom: Life is Strange (1)

Charcter(s): Mark Jefferson, Mark's daughter|You| (Y/N) | The Reader, Nathan Prescott (mentioned), Warren Graham (mentioned), Max Caulfield (mentioned), Rachel Amber (mentioned)

Ship(s): Warren Graham x Reader (ex.), Nathan Prescott x Reader (ex.), Max Caulfield x Reader (ex.)

Type: Headcanons

—❢ー

𝐈𝐟 (𝐘/𝐍) 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫… (𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐜𝐬)

—❢—

𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈: Hayloft by Mother Mother

(A.n: 'Cause this is the next on my playlist and I love it so much lol)

“My daddy's got a gun

You better run”

—❢ー

Oki, let's start with some sweet ones:

• If he's not tired, then prepare for breakfast in bed

• "Did you sleep good, hon?"

• morning kisses 🥺❤

• while you cry on him, he would gently caress you

• "Shh, it's okay, sweetheart."

Now, some serious stuff:

• He wouldn't be the greatest father tho, I think

• still, I think he would be protective about his daughter

• 'cause of his hobby and about boys in general lol

• Seriously I think he would feel safer if you would chose girls instead

• but it's your choice ofc

• He will definitely talk about his job and of photography ofc

• If his daughter not interested, then he won't push it

• ofc, he will be a bit bitter

• but he understands it

• Although, he will mention or talk about it just a bit sometimes

• But if you are interested in photography

• be prepared that photography will be you two's first or at least second topic

• he's a real teacher, so you won't have problem to learn from him

• Actually I think he would be happy about that there's something that you both can talk about

• (at least the suspense will be less from you, and it helps him to keep you away from his crazy hobby)

• Don't mention Mom.

• You will see him less more, when you are old enough to be left alone

• He comes home late, and he does this more often

• "Dad?" you asked unsurely when he picked up the phone. You were worried, so you choose to give him call. Is teaching lasts this long? "Where are you?"

"Oh... Daddy's working right now, sweetheart. I promise, I will be home soon, okay?"

And he kept saying this after hours and hours.

• Get used to that you will be alone for a long time

• He will ask you teasingly about if you like someone

• but the real reason is that he wants to know who he has to deal with

• his reactions depends on the person

• If the person is Nathan (who is his... well, let's say partner of those insane things), he will be definitely more protective and will keep an eye on both of you for a long time

• deadly and serious threats ahead, if he still won't leave you alone

• he will be potective because he knows Nathan very well and the crimes that himself he commited, and other side bc he's a father and he wants to keep his beautiful daughter safe

• But if the person would be for example Max, he would be more relaxed

• (He would even think trough her kidnapping. There's a chance that he won't hurt her. Even if it's hard for him to conntrol his sick addiction)

• He still tests her if she's good enough for you, but he will be more easier on her

• OR let's say the person is Warren-

• "The geek?"

"Dad!"

• He doesn't know that much about him

• and bc of this he will definitely test him

• I mean he doesn't mind that you're with smart boys

• but you know, he has to make sure

• Now, I think we're almost there at the end of these hcs-

• You sat in the can uncomfortably. You tried to make yourself comfortable, but it didn't help.

"So, was the test okay?" you heard you father next beside you.

You nodded, even if you knew that he doesn't see you 'cause he's focusing on the road.

"Dad?" You spoke unsurely, don't know how to say out loud your thoughts.

"Yes, sweetie?" He glanced at you with a kind smile on his face, but it dissapeared when he saw how stressed you were. "What's wrong, honey?"

You tried to swallow the nervousness, but it was worthless and didn't help at all.

"So, you know those Rachel Amber missing posters? They're almost everywhere."

Mark could feel how his heart skipped a beat. Now he started to feel nervous as well.

"Yes, dear?" Focus on the road. Focus on the road. Focus on the road. Focus on the road.

"Did you know her?"

He let out a small sigh. He didn't want that his daughter notice that he's nervous. He tried to act calmly.

"No, sweetheart." he spoke as he hid away the frustration in his voice.

"Okay." you said quietly. You sounded convinced.

He carefully glanced at you again.

"Are you scared?"

There was a couple of seconds until you answered.

"Maybe... I don't wanna imagine what terrible things those people did to her. But my mind keep distracting me, even if I don't want to think about it."

You could feel the gentle touch of his warm hands.

"Don't worry, hon. I'll keep you safe."

And with that you were convinced that your dad is there and you're more than safe with him.

• Why would he be a bad father?

I think his psychotic hobby would be more important to him than his own daughter. He would be definitely overprotective about you, but also he wouldn't be there for you. Like there's no movie night, cause again, he has things to do in the Dark Room.

Yes, he would care about his daughter, he would also be a good listener, but you rarely meet him. He wouldn't be there for you when you need him.

I don't think he would hurt his daughter physically, but don't test him. He's enough stressed about his victims.

And he would pay too much attention about keeping you safe.

From his hobby, from Nathan, from everything.