#nathan's terrible jokes

[drawfee-quot3s]

if you have two noodle characters, and they uh, they have a conversation that doesn't involve talking about sauce? it passes the béchamel test

- nathan

[androgymagnus]

tfw extremely homoerotic toxic relationships between two fucked up little guys

[sobredunia]

there are two wolves inside you

one is a cowboy

the other is also a cowboy

you are VOACT flowey

[hotchfiles]

hey, congrats on 100!! wanted to request seth cohen with the prompt “i would do anything not to give a shit, but i do” thanks so much!!

lari's 100th follower bash + send me a prompt and one of my boys for a blurb

seth + “i would do anything not to give a shit, but i do”

      His eyes haven't left you from the moment he barged into your room, the close friendship you shared allowing him to be as impertinent as he wished. Your own glanced him from time to time through your mirror as you worked on your makeup.

      You had a date. An actual date. Cohen was not going to ruin that for you.

      "So you're actually doing this, you're really going out with him."

      If you allowed yourself to delve more into the terrible heart wrenching crush you had on the curly boy laying your bed, you would tell yourself his voice sounded disappointed, sad even. But you promised yourself you wouldn't do that anymore. Not holding your love life back because Seth might look at you softly once in a while, or because he would sleep on your lap while showing you one of his underrated tv shows that would surely be canceled in two seasons max.

      "Oh no, I just enjoy uncomfortable clothes and spending two hours on my makeup. The usual."

      Seth's response to your sarcasm was to scoff annoyingly loud and roll on your bed to look up your ceiling, trying to think of anything he could say or do that could stop you.

      He couldn't just lock the door and swallow the keys even though that was the first option to come to mind. a fake allergy attack wouldn't work, you knew of everything he was allergic to. He could just ask you not to—but then you'd ask why.

      And he didn't know why. He just didn't want you to. It was unnerving to think of you having fun with another guy with your silly pretty dress and your red lipstick he never saw you wear before.

      And he couldn't even blame on your date. He was a cool normal guy, not some kind of awful jock.

      "Well, I mean, it's Firefly night, you never miss Firefly night. Are you coming home before it airs or—" Seth didn't finish his pleads, the way you looked at him was enough of an answer, you didn't even like Firefly that much, your biggest enjoyment out of it was Nathan Fillion being a hottie and... Cohen's company.

      You sigh deeply, avoiding his gaze as you went directly to your shoes, trying to find something remotely elegant for a dinner.

      Of course you would rather be laying on his couch, eating popcorn, cozy on his blanket that always smells like him, laughing at his jokes and pretending to be offended when he thought you didn't understand one of them. But the more you did that, the more you lost precious opportunities to find someone to actually be with you. Love you.

      "But like, you don't even know him." Not true, he was older than you both, but he graduated from the same high school only months before. "And he's not even tall." He was taller than you though. "And he has a terrible taste in socks."

      "Socks, Cohen? Really?" you groan in frustration, at him and at the fact not one of your heels matched your dress. Too high, too black, too thin, too tall. Nothing matched. "Why do you care?" you ask finally, your hands on your hips as you looked over at him, who, sensing you were getting madder by the second, decided to get up and just sit on your bed, looking into your eyes. "Do I need your blessing? Do I have to ask you before going out with someone? Why, why do you care?"

      "I don't know! Okay. I don't know." His body jumps from your bed, pacing out through your room, avoiding your eyes at all costs. "I would do anything not to give a shit, but I do." He stops on his tracks, his breathing is loud, was it ever that loud? Or were you both just too quiet?

      You think you're gonna regret this, but you step even closer to him, planning to possibly ruin your friendship but to at least get a single kiss before it happened.

      Seth looks at your lips and like many times before he wonders how soft they are, if the lipstick you had on tastes like cherries like your balm you usually wear and forces on his lips with your fingers.

      Would your thighs be warm around his waist? Would his cold hands on your cheeks scare you away? Just the usual stuff a good friend would think about his friend who is also a girl.

      He acts on impulse as do you, both of you going for a kiss at the same time, laughing at how uncoordinated it felt because of it, noses hitting before your lips could touch. But they do eventually.

      Seth notices the lipstick does not taste like cherries on your soft lips, it actually tastes awful, but he doesn't care. Your makeup is getting completely ruined, his fingers firm on your cheeks, but you're more than happy to let that happen.

      The kiss doesn't linger, the need for air even stronger due to the surprise of it all, his forehead touches yours lightly, his hands never leave your face. "Firefly night is just... Very important to me." You nod at his joke, too stunned to even laugh.

      "Your house then." It's not a question, you let go of him and he groans missing how warm you felt. You put on the first pair of slippers you can find and pull his hand as you left your room. Not a single plan to watch the stupid show in mind.

[lol-jackles]

Hi, how are you?

I wanted to ask, we know that Jared has not stopped working since Supernatural ended.

He had offers even before Supernatural and Walker ended.

So my question is, do JP's agents still give him scripts for possible series or movies?

Do they still submit Jared's name for auditions?

Throughout these years until now do you think Jared received offers to do movies?

Until the moment you retired, did you hear that Jared's name had been associated with any movie production?

Hi friend, very very busy which I'll expand on later in this post.

Yes and yes after agents sort through factors such as salary, cast, production team, etc. Scripts are just one piece of the puzzle. I've seen great scripts ruined by bad production and terrible scrips filmed with high standards.

As for movies, Jared did received offers for low budget movies, but his manager has always steered him towards television because that's where the money is. The timeless joke is movie stars can get a seat at a restaurant anytime while television stars can buy the restaurant.

Jared's surname is unusual so I had vague recollection of his name attached to Whatever it Takes, a teen modern version of Cyrano de Bergerac. After 10 Things I Hate About You and Cruel Intentions were hits, Hollywood tried to capitalize on taking old classics and "retelling" them in modern teen settings.

Nowadays I haven't heard much other than gossips that studios think they can get at least 3 more television series from Jared. David Boreanaz and Nathan Fillion are 55 and 53 respectively so there's been speculation they good for one and two more tv series as leads respectively. Half the reasons why I've been relatively absent from this hell site is because my old job hired me as a consultant. Casting is one of the hardest aspects of this business, for both low and big budget films. So between my new part time job and my current full time job and holiday family obligations quickly descending upon us, free time to trigger AAs on this hell site is rarer by the day.

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings: A retold, g/t story of Beauty and the Beast, with a sinister twist.

When he declines to help a beggar woman, wealthy aristocrat Christopher Penn was cursed to adopt a giant form with a terrible, monstrous burden, and the conditions to break the curse seem all but impossible. When a peasant girl, Danny, agrees to take her friend's place as Christopher's captive, he realizes that she may be the last hope of regaining his humanity and breaking the spell for good.

But who could ever care for a monster like him?

This will be an AU of ITWOM involving some familiar characters like Christopher, Danny, Sam, and Nathan - but you don't have to have read the main story to read this one. Lots of things will be changed around, so for all intents and purposes, these aren't the characters you know.

This story will contain g/t, angst, and soft/safe vore later down the road. It's still going to be a lighter read than ITWOM, but be warned nonetheless! This isn't the Beauty and the Beast story you know from Disney.

Read Chapter 1 below:

Chapter 1: Dark Night of the Soul

Contains: ~2k words | Chapter Index | Read this story on A03!

It was a night like many others, the night that Christopher Penn's life was changed forever.

A deluge had begun that evening, torrential rain bearing down upon the land with fierce strikes of lightning and thunder rattling the large windows of the mansion—but all this meant for Christopher and his guests was that they wouldn't be able to enjoy the garden out back, and their merriment was restricted to the large indoor space. The music still swelled and filled the air pleasantly, rising above the sounds of the storm outside and making it easy for the partygoers to forget how unpleasant it was outside the walls of Christopher's house.

The host in question flitted from person to person throughout the evening, engaging in the usual small talk and jokes, an easy and charming smile lighting up his face and those of the people he met with. He was a gracious and charismatic host, always making sure that his parties were the grandest, with his guests never wanting for anything. The people in attendance would speak highly of his events, of the balls and the dinner parties, that he was so keen to host. 

On the surface, Christopher seemed rather at ease, full of a charm and grace that would be befitting of someone from a wealthy family. But his actions were all surface level—each word and step he took was carefully choreographed and planned in advance. He was terrified, truly—each person he brought into his home was a potential ally, a potential for advancing his status, but they were also a potential seed to his own destruction.

Christopher had spent every day since his parents had passed rebuilding his family's reputation among the nobility. He could see past their charm—they despised his parents, and in turn, they despised him. His own reputation—the very thing that allowed him to live in such comforts still, to have any amount of power and social standing at all—was fragile and tenuous, and every interaction he had, no matter how seemingly insignificant it was, was an attempt to maintain its strength.

And so, while he seemed completely comfortable in this element, there was a latent anxiety in Christopher, hidden well beneath the surface. 

He almost didn’t hear the knock at the door at first, wrapped up as he was in conversation. But his manservant rushed to his side, rather insistently dragging him away.

“I’m sorry, Chris, she just won’t leave without speaking to you.” Sam’s stride was brisk, and they gave Christopher no choice but to follow. He offered a quick and profuse apology to the noblewoman he’d been entertaining before he caught up to Sam.

“You’re not able to send her away?” Christopher hissed, somewhat tersely. “I can’t be interrupted by every stranger that shows up here. I have guests to attend to.” 

“Hey, I tried!” Sam insisted. “I’m just one guy, and I also have guests of yours to attend to. She keeps coming back. All she wants is a quick word with you. Just humor her, and she’ll be out of your hair.” Sam ran their fingers somewhat anxiously through their own well-groomed locks. “We can just deal with it quietly, before she causes a scene. Some of the guests near the front door are getting a little antsy about it.” 

Christopher sighed wearily as he followed Sam to the main entrance. Perhaps if he had more staff, this wouldn’t be a problem. Most of the house’s staff had left in the fallout of his parents’ demise, with the sole exception being Sam—his personal servant who’d remained as doggedly loyal to him as they had the first day they’d been assigned to care for him. He’d never let on to his guests, but Christopher worked with Sam every day to keep the house in order, even helping cook the meals and clean. He had to keep up appearances as best he could. 

Sam pulled the grand front door open to reveal a woman on the other side—a pauper in beggar’s clothes, tattered and rain-soaked, hunched on his front stoop as she gazed up at Christopher. 

Christopher stood up straight and directed a cold, stern look towards the woman. He could feel several sets of eyes on him, and knew that there was a group of aristocrats watching the scene intently. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves idly as he spoke, as if he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the woman at all.

“I’m afraid you will have to leave. I have no room for beggars here.” 

The woman shivered slightly, tilting her head up further to meet Christopher’s face. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her face lined with creases from age and stress. “P-please, kind sir, I only need to come in from the storm for a short while. I won’t be any trouble. I…I haven’t eaten in days-”

The people nearby began to whisper, a touch of disgust coloring their tone. 

“This is an exclusive event,” Christopher interjected firmly. “There is a certain decorum that must be maintained. Please leave, or I will contact the authorities to escort you away.” 

If he had been at home alone that evening, he might have afforded some manner of small comfort towards the woman. But he couldn’t be seen sullying his hands with the poor here. 

A pleading, desperate look came to the woman’s face, her features falling into despair. “Sir, I will not survive the night!” Her voice was hoarse and rough, as if sandpaper scraped against the inside of her throat. “You would turn me away, to the mercy of the storm?”

Her cries had gotten louder—more of his guests had turned to look and whisper among themselves, casting uncertain and hesitant glances Christopher’s way. He didn’t need to hear them to know what they were all saying. 

What kind of place is this, where the host entertains beggars?

He is no better than his parents, mingling with such filth.

He doesn’t belong here.

He is not one of us.

He set his jaw and made his stance firm, his dark eyes fixed sharply down at the beggar. He couldn’t let this go on further. “Leave. Your welfare is not my concern.”

The woman’s face became suddenly sharper, each crease and wrinkle fading to a more youthful visage, and her muddy, round eyes transformed to piercing, golden ones. She no longer hunched, but stood straight up, rising to a height that forced even Christopher to look up in awestruck terror. 

“THEN YOU WILL HAVE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS, CHRISTOPHER PENN.” 

Her tattered clothes transformed to flowing white robes upon her dark skin, her hair now falling in neat and lovely braids down her back, adorned with gold. 

She cast a scornful, acidic gaze towards Christopher as she looked down on him, each fiber of her being radiating with malice. 

His heart stopped beating—the entire world seemed to have gone silent, save for the strikes of thunder that almost seemed to accentuate every word this woman spoke. Her voice boomed with an unnatural volume throughout the entire hall. He didn’t need to turn around to know that every single person in attendance had heard.

He did his best to hide the quaking in his limbs. He couldn’t lose his composure, even now. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice escaping as nothing but a whisper.

The woman scowled at him, her expression one of pure poison. He could feel himself withering beneath it, despite all his efforts to keep calm. 

“You would not remember me, for the faces you entertain here are simply passing flights of fancy to you. I was your guest, Penn. And I saw past your charm. You use people for your own gain, grasping onto what little power you have like a pathetic child, desperate to rise above your place in the world.” 

She pointed an accusing finger towards him. “You have a vile, black heart, so cruel that you would send a woman away to her death when she asks for but a little kindness.”

“Hey!” Sam spoke up, a little timidly beside Christopher. “You can’t talk about him like-”

“SILENCE.” A loud strike of thunder shook the entire house, rattling the foundation and carrying the woman’s voice to the ears of every patron once again. A blistering wind tore through the open door, making the curtains tremble in its wake. 

Christopher thought that something seemed familiar about the woman—he felt as though he could recall a conversation with her, and she surely must have been at one of his parties. He searched for a name desperately, frantically wracking his brain for this woman’s identity.

“...Sybil?” he croaked, every ounce of confidence having long since left his body. His knees began to tremble, and he worried that they would soon give out completely. “Y-you may come in, I am so very sorry to have offended-”

“You have already failed, Penn. Now you repent, for you see my true form, and the power I wield.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your fate has already been sealed.”

The world was swallowed in darkness within only the span of a moment, and the screams of Christopher’s guests and Sam became drowned out by an all-encompassing blackness that surrounded him, choking the air from his lungs, squeezing his ribcage until he thought he would burst from the pressure. He could not speak, he could not move, he could not see. If not for the excruciating pain shooting through every fiber of his being, he would have thought he was dead.

“You will no longer hide behind your tawdry facade. A monster within, so a monster you shall become.” 

Sybil’s voice came from all around him, like a harsh winter wind that froze the blood in his veins as it passed over him. Her words had weight to them, laden with something powerful, and far beyond this world’s understanding. 

His body was changing, but in what manner, he had no way to tell. All he could feel was pain—pain and a clawing hunger, like an animal inside of his stomach ripping and tearing at the flesh within, desperate to break out. His head throbbed as sounds swirled in his mind, indistinguishable from each other as they rose into a crescendo of noise, and the silence turned to a deafening cacophony. Voices, screams, shouting, but no words he could make out. He thought that he could hear Sam, amidst all the chaos, but he couldn’t be sure.

And then, before the darkness of his vision cleared to reveal the full extent of the horror that awaited him, he was assaulted by the wave of a strong smell he couldn’t place, a scent that filled his lungs and made the desperate animal within his gut writhe and twist in agony. It was like the scent of the finest wine, the most tantalizing food in existence, in such a great amount that it was overwhelming—even though, in those few moments of blissful ignorance, he had no idea what it was that delighted his senses so, that made the pain almost forgotten, that made every bone of his ache with an almost feral hunger.

His eyes opened with frantic urgency, and the scene before him unfolded slowly into a horrifyingly clear depiction of the gruesome fate that had been thrust upon him. He could barely see the faces of the ones he’d invited here, but their frightened screams spoke loudly enough. No words came to his own mouth—he was frozen in horror, like an insect trapped in amber as the weight of what happened sunk in, pressing down upon him like a suffocating, terrible gravity.

Despite his transformation, Sybil’s words rang as clear in his head as they had before. 

“Ten years, Penn. Ten years to prove yourself, or this form will be your prison.”

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next Chapter ->

Thanks for reading! I hope to update this story semi-consistently, because boy do I have some things planned down the road. So stay tuned!

[itsawhumpsideblog]

A Safehouse Christmas Story, pt. 10

On the tenth day of Christmas, My true love gave to me Ten lords a-leaping...

Mistress hadn't known what she was starting when she showed Mikey how to dance, he thought. The feeling of moving in time to music had been... almost magical. It was a totally new sensation. In the following days, when he was alone, Mikey liked to replay the song in his head, moving his feet in time to the music only he could hear.

There was something very pleasant in stepping through the waltz over and over again, putting his feet in just the right spots, turning at just the right angle, moving smoothly and gracefully...

Mikey was pretty sure he had never been graceful before in his life. It was a nice change. When he danced the one and only step he knew, he forgot that he had been trained to fight. He forgot the days spent sparring with other pets and the nights spent weeping because he was afraid he had hurt them.

In some ways, Mikey was glad his hands were immobile for the time being. He had a terribly clear memory of that last fight, of hitting whoever came within reach until his knuckles bled and his fingers cracked. His job was to protect his Master and he had failed at it, he knew that. His Master had died because he was a failure. Worse, Nathan had nearly died. For weeks, Mikey had been sure the kind indoor pet he knew was gone forever. His hands had done that- his hands had failed to protect the Master he was ordered to protect and the friend he was desperate to save.

But then Nathan had come back and Mikey had the consolation of knowing he had gotten at least one thing right. Having Nathan was comforting and made him feel a little better about himself.

It was still hard to look at his hands, though, and know what those hands had done and how many people those hands had damaged. He had been made to use them for hurting and this haunted him, even though Master said it was not his fault. Nathan had explained about the drugs that wiped his memory and Mistress had sat him down and talked to him about the way training like the WRU gave him could affect the mind. But Mikey still felt responsible and sometimes found it hard to look at his hands. He was glad they hurt. He deserved for his hands to hurt, after all he had done with them.

So now, Mikey was relieved that his hands were bandaged and stiff and out of his sight. It was like they had been re-built and when the bandages and casts came off, maybe his hands would feel new. Maybe he could do something better with them.

Francis had suggested he learn Sign Language, and they all watched videos together to practice. Maybe his hands could be for communicating, now- for telling stories and saying kind things and even making jokes, when he learned how.

Or he could learn to make things, and his hands could be used for building instead of breaking.

Or maybe Mistress would dance with him again and his hands could be part of creating something beautiful and graceful. He thought back to the night she had showed them The Nutcracker. Mikey had been totally entranced, watching the dancers spin and leap across the stage. Every movement had been so precise and clean and coordinated. He wanted to be like that. He wanted to go leaping through the air, knowing how he would land, and that he could take joy in using his strength for something that made the world a little brighter.

Maybe one day he could learn more, and learn to do as the men in The Nutcracker did. Just thinking about it made Mikey smile.

For now, he practiced his waltz and slid around the floor in time to silent music, waiting and dreaming.

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds

@honeycollectswhump @taterswhump, @starfields08000

@whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial

@maracujatangerine @lordcatwich

[alfredojesta]

okay self indulgent rant about my circus pasta headcanons (i call them "circus squad" which is funny because nathan vine and pup are far from circusy) (THIS POST IS SO LONG OMG I JUST DON'T SHUT UP)

PART 1: NATHAN AND CANDY POP

ever since nathan and ciara got married, candy pop treats nathan like he's his angsty teenage son. even though nathan is a grown ass man. and they've been best friends for years.

he shows up to nathan and ciara's house in the middle of the night with gifts and (store-bought) food. ciara wakes up and punches him out of surprise. "WHERE DID YOU COME FROM, POPS?" "OW — I COME WITH GIFTS!"

candy pop and nathan have a lot of trust in each other. nathan acts like an anti social freak but candy pop knows he's a silly little guy. candy pop isn't bitter at all that nathan spends more time with his wife than with the jester. candy pop is actually incredibly supportive of their relationship! he's very proud! he wants to be a good father and a great bestie! he even wanted to match with nathan so he made jason the toymaker marry him (IT ENDED IN A TERRIBLE DIVORCE)!

i think that nathan has supported candy pop the longest. they met when night terrors was still in commission and they worked together to stop night terrors and his cluster of souls from wreaking havoc. candy pop was beneficial to nathan as well. candy pop helped him get out of his shell and become as hopeful as he is today. nowadays, nathan's too busy with his own life to do pranks with candy pop. but candy pop doesn't mind it.

candy pop tries to be a good father to ciara. he does the most he can, but even then it doesn't feel like enough. ciara pushes him away, claiming she's able to protect herself. she isn't good with trusting people, not even candy pop. losing her twin brother made her cold and distant. being around the jarringly energetic candy pop makes her angry in a way. she doesn't know just how much candy pop relates to her life.

PART 2: VINE AND PAPA GRANDE

VINE??? oh he's like . 40. vine is more of a lowkey serial killer. his victims are normally documented as "missing". he hides his tracks well. he's the richest out of the six, having inherited most of his father's money and then used it to start a successful business.

he's besties with the puppeteer, papa grande and nathan. it was pretty difficult for them to get close to vine. vine is quiet, quite asocial for his age, and has a hard time trusting men. he was lucky enough to find people he could relate to.

when it comes to jason and candy pop... vine is 50/50 with them. sometimes he likes them, sometimes he doesn't. jason isn't fun to talk to; he doesn't listen, he's working 99% of the time, and he'll either sigh with annoyance or tell vine straight up "i do not care. get out." and then candy pop is candy pop idk what more to say about that.

then papa grande... he's a travelling magician who picks certain people from the audience to kill and add to his collection! he, like vine, isn't a famous serial killer.

papa grande rarely admits it but he sees these little guys as family. nathan is like his adopted son... annoying adopted son. they constantly joke about papa grande breaking his back or having a heart attack, and at some point, papa grande thinks they're praying on his downfall.

jason learns all his magic tricks from papa grande — usually against his will. papa grande genuinely thought jason was a magician because of his tophat and cane. but no. jason is just a fancy british guy.

candy pop's an exception when it comes to the familial bond. candy pop is like a dog he found on the street. candy pop is a menace. he keeps waking up papa grande in the middle of the night and asking him to do magic tricks. "PAPA WAKE UP!" "WHAT" "MAGIC TRICKS!" "WHAT."

PART 3: THE PUPPETEER AND JASON

i have a bunch of headcanons for THE MALE MANIPULATORS. i think the toymaker and the puppeteer would get along great.

FIRST OF ALL, the puppeteer actually respects jason. he was a bit intimidated by jason at first, but after getting to know him, he's come to look up to him. pup admires jason's craftsmanship, finding his work to be beautiful and inspiring.

SECOND OF ALL, as a toymaker himself, jason is intrigued by pup being a living puppet. sometimes he asks to reconfigure the puppeteer's wooden limbs. to that, the puppeteer politely declines.

THIRD OF ALL, they are SENSIBLE PEOPLE... usually. they're both manipulative and selfish freaks who get angry when things don't go their way... i reckon they have conversations over tea about how many people they've fucked up this year. "five women in one month? scandalous." "do not word it like that."

pup is a wanderer. wanderers don't have places to stay. wanderers wander into peoples' apartments ("they are called flats" – jason) and overstay their visits... jason let him stay ONCE. ONCE. and the puppeteer decided to take it as "oh i can come over whenever i want!"

thankfully he isn't a messy guy... he's just odd. he always turns on the tv just to watch it for three minutes and then head to the kitchen to cook dinner. but he never finishes cooking dinner because he gets distracted by the tv he played in the living room an hour ago. jason hears it all happen.

pup also tries to console jason about his anger issues. he keeps seeing holes punched into the wall and it's concerning. (i think punching holes into walls actually makes jason angrier. like what the fuck do you mean you're that weak. dumbass wall.) pup makes sure not to enable his anger... he is the exact opposite of candy pop and nathan.

the puppeteer very much loves his friends and will do anything for them (he does not have many friends). whenever someone takes the toymaker's tophat, the puppeteer is the one to return it. even if it ends up at the side of a cliff in nevada, he'll get it back for the toymaker. although, the toymaker usually doesn't want the tophat back...

jason thinks the puppeteer can be overbearing at times but he isn't as bad as candy pop, so things are okay. plus, jason can always mess with the puppeteer as much as he messes with jason. whether it's scaring him off with a toy or shaking salt in front of him, pup is such an easy target.

OKAY THAT'S ALL (i have more just saving it for other posts xD)

they're rlly interesting characters :') genuinely my favourites. i love them so much... i have a candymaker rant right here too for anyone who wants to read

[emma23]

Bad decisions, worst timing:

Nathan Bateman x reader

————————————————————————

You stand outside the enormous glass walls of Nathan Bateman’s isolated estate, feeling the chill of the night air against your skin. The forest around the estate seems too quiet, almost eerie, but you barely notice it. Your thoughts are louder than any sound in the woods.

You just found out. He cheated. Your stupid, slimy ex cheated on you. The worst part is, you weren’t even that surprised. Maybe you had seen it coming, maybe you had ignored the signs for too long, or maybe it was just easier to believe that things were fine when they clearly weren’t.

Whatever. It was over now.

And standing here, in front of Nathan Bateman’s door, you know this is a terrible idea. The man was practically a genius, rich beyond belief, but he had the emotional range of a rock and the moral compass of…well, a mad scientist. But here you were anyway, because when you make bad decisions, you make spectacularly bad ones.

You buzz the intercom. There's a long pause before the door hisses open, and Nathan stands in front of you, a bottle of whiskey in hand, already looking slightly buzzed. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"You lost or something?" Nathan asks, his voice carrying that usual cocky tone, as though he couldn't believe someone would show up unannounced.

"No." You shake your head, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "I need a favor."

Nathan quirks an eyebrow, taking a swig from his glass. "Favor? Don’t tell me—your car broke down in the middle of nowhere?"

"No," you say flatly. "My ex cheated on me, and I need to forget about it. Tonight. And I figured you could help with that."

His smirk grows as he leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "You think I'm the guy you come to for that kind of favor?"

You shrug, trying to act casual even though your heart is racing. "I figured it was either you or…someone else. Your call."

Nathan’s eyes narrow, and you can see the gears turning in his head. He knows what you’re asking for. He just doesn’t want to make this easy for you. Of course, he doesn’t.

"Should I tell you again that you don’t really wanna sleep with me?" he says, his voice mocking, as if this was all some kind of joke.

"You could," you reply, meeting his gaze evenly. "But that’s only if you want me to sleep with someone else tonight."

That catches him off guard. For a moment, you see something dark flash across his face—jealousy, maybe? He’s possessive, that much is obvious, but he hates to admit it.

Nathan steps closer, his voice dropping an octave. "You sure about this?"

"Positive."

He lets out a low, humorless chuckle before setting his glass down on the table. His eyes rake over you, from your heels to your dress, and you feel the heat of his gaze settle in your stomach.

"Take your dress off," he commands, his voice rough and without hesitation. "But the heels stay on."

Your pulse quickens at the command, but you don’t falter. You’ve come this far, and there’s no turning back now. As your fingers fumble with the zipper at your back, you notice Nathan watching you intently, his gaze never wavering. There’s a tension in the room, thick enough to cut through.

The dress slips off, pooling around your feet, and Nathan takes a slow step towards you, eyes darkened with something primal.

"Should’ve known," he mutters under his breath, reaching out to run a hand down your arm. His touch is rough, but you can’t deny the electric thrill that comes with it.

You meet his gaze. "Known what?"

He smirks. "That you'd be trouble."

The next thing you know, he’s pulling you in, his lips crashing against yours with a roughness that takes your breath away. His hands are on your hips, pulling you closer as the heat between you ignites. It’s messy, desperate, and nothing like you expected.

Nathan isn’t gentle. He’s not the type to whisper sweet nothings or ask if you’re okay. No, this is all raw instinct and the need to control, to dominate. And right now, you’re completely okay with that.

As his hands roam your body, he maneuvers you onto the couch, his lips never leaving yours. The world outside could be burning, and you wouldn’t even notice.

The next few minutes are a blur of hands and lips, the sound of his breathing mixing with your own as you lose yourself in the moment. You’re not sure how much time passes, but eventually, you’re lying there, spent, with Nathan beside you, the tension between you finally dissipating.

The room falls silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing, and for a moment, everything feels still.

Nathan turns his head, looking at you with a satisfied smirk. "Well, that was… cathartic."

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. "Don’t flatter yourself."

"I don’t need to," he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You’re the one who came here."

You groan, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it."

Nathan just laughs, taking a swig from the bottle of whiskey still sitting on the table. He offers it to you, and you take it, grateful for something to distract you from the fact that you just made yet another terrible decision.

But for now, at least, you feel a little better.

You glance over at Nathan, who’s already sprawled out on the couch like he owns the place (which, technically, he does).

"You really are the worst," you mutter, taking a sip.

He smirks, eyes gleaming with amusement. "And yet here you are."

You sigh, setting the bottle down. "Yeah. Guess I’m just bad at making good choices."

Nathan raises an eyebrow. "Well, at least you’re consistent."

You throw a pillow at him, and he catches it effortlessly, grinning like he’s won some kind of prize.

"And you’re impossible," you add.

Nathan just shrugs, settling back into the couch. "I never said I wasn’t."

And with that, the night drifts into an odd sort of comfort—a shared understanding between two deeply flawed people, finding a strange kind of solace in each other’s company.

[89pedri]

Passenger Seat | Mason Mount

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reader

Summary: Fell in love with you in my passenger seat.

Warnings: Slight suggestive content, cursing

Word count: 2k+

Note: Back with another Mason blurb idea thing, I hope you like it! 🥺

The time read 3:02 am as you woke up to the third missed call from Mason in the past five minutes. Your heart immediately begins to race, worrying that something might have happened to him. You call him back, and he answers almost as quickly as you had pressed call.

“Hi, Y/N” you hear his cheerful voice through the speakers of your phone.

“Mase. Are you okay? Is everything okay?” you ask him. “Why do I have so many missed calls?”

“First off, I’m okay darling. But I am outside your house. Come outside, let’s go for a drive.” he says sheepishly.

“Are you mad? I thought something happened to you. Plus, have you seen the time? I look terrible, first of all and I feel bad sneaking out of my house like this, second of all. My parents will be so worried if they wake up and I’m not here.” you scold him.

At the same time that you finish your sentence, however, you put him on loud speaker as you begin frantically looking around your room for your makeup to somewhat make yourself look presentable. Knowing that you’d cave in and go out with him in any case.

“You look great. And, just be very quiet when you leave the house, your dad will never even know you were gone.” he tries to reassure you.

Your mind races as you apply a touch of makeup, not wanting Mason to see you so vulnerably yet. You slip on the closest pair of leggings and hoodie you can spot. You also can’t shake that feeling of guilt of sneaking out. As much as you were an adult, you felt that you owed your parents a sense of respect.

“Y/N, you there?” he asks after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah, I’m here. Just… I’ll be out in a bit.” you tell him before hanging up as you run to brush your teeth before heading out.

With a rush of excitement and nervousness, you walk towards the entrance door. Trying to rationalize if sneaking out at this time to spend time with Mason was even something you should be considering. You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath. Part of you wants to turn back, but the other part of you just wants to see Mason. That part of you that is sure has been falling in love with him, overrides the feeling of fear of getting caught. So you carefully open and close the door trying to minimize the noise and you spot him waiting for you in his car.

He rolls down the window of the passenger seat as he sees you appear out of you house, and he greets you with a wave and that ever-so-characteristic-of-him grin. The one you’d seen him reserve for when he talked about the things and people he really loved, like his nieces and nephew, and Chelsea.

“Don’t you have training in a couple of hours? Can’t you be fined for things like being out too late?” you begin interrogating him as you try to hide the smile that was forming on your lips as he begins to drive, seemingly with no destination.

“Couldn’t stop thinking of you. Wanted to see you again. I guess I’m risking everything for you, and that’s alright with me.” he tells you half-seriously half-joking as he sees you trying to connect to his car’s bluetooth so you can take control of the music.

You turn to look at him, rolling your eyes at the fact that he seemed to sweep you off your feet with his sweet talking.

You see a couple of familiar names pop up on his car’s bluetooth before you try to connect to your own phone. Chilly, Christian, Nathan. You hadn’t met them, but you felt that you knew them from how much he had talked to you about them. You also, however, see some unfamiliar ones.

You can’t help the feelings that form in the pit of your stomach. The jealously, the anger and the insecurity. However, you and Mason had never talked about being official. In theory he was well within his right to go on car rides with other girls. In practice, though, you hoped he wasn’t doing that.

“I have to ask, Mason. Do you also pick up… Jaz and Chloe from their houses at 3 am and risk everything for them?” you joke along with him.

“If you must know, Y/N. I would risk everything for Jaz. She’s my sister, Summer’s mom.” he begins and waits for your response. To which, you simply nod, having heard so much of Summer and how strongly their bond was.

He pauses before continuing, “And, Chloe. She’s my ex. It ended a couple of years ago. We were both very young. I haven’t thought about it but I guess I’ve not had a girl connect to my car since then.” he answers as he pulls a strand of loose hair behind your ear and settles his hand on your thigh, “but you have nothing to be jealous of, as you are the only girl who I have ever liked as much as to want to spend time with her at 3 am, 3pm and everything in between.”

“I was not jealous.” you lie, knowing he could read you better but he doesn’t press the matter further.

You finally connect your phone to his surround system and you start shuffling through your driving playlist. You analyze his reaction to the first few songs, skipping them all until you find one that he sings along to, turning up the volume.

You get so lost in the moment, loving the way his voice was just slightly off key, as he dramatically keeps looking between you and the road and he attempts to serenade you. To be honest, you weren’t paying much attention to the words, that was until he abruptly stops at a stop sign and turns to look at you.

“I’ll be your brightside, BABY, TONIGHT.” he half sings half yells along to The Lumineers looking into your eyes.

You lower your gaze, embarrassed at how quickly and easily the effect he had on you became evident. He smirks as he notices and parks a few metres ahead of the stop sign, at a small park with a stunning view of the city.

You turn down the volume of your phone, anticipating what you’d do next. Just happy to be there with him. He inclines both yours and his seat, and you look back noticing that the backseats were down to give you more room. Seems like he had thought this through.

He then opens the sunroof directly on top of your seats and you’re treated to a breathtaking view of the starry night. Taking hold of your hand, he brings it to his lips before placing a chaste kiss and then placing it close to his chest.

You both lay down in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s presence and the simple yet intimate activity of stargazing. The only sounds you could distinguish: the faint sound of your songs playing, your hearts beating and your shaky breaths.

“I think that’s Cassiopeia,” you say pointing towards the constellation, outlining the W shape with your fingers. “It’s like an upside down M for Mason Mount but not really.”

He points along with you, seeing him pull out his phone to snap a picture of the sky. He inches closer to you, surely testing your willpower as you take in his scent, “Wason Wount, if you will, but I don’t see it.”

“Look harder, Wason.” you whisper turning towards him. His body is barely touching yours and you look into his eyes. The air between you becoming thicker than before.

He slowly leans into you, hand gently caressing the side of your face as he closes the gap between your lips. Like most of your kisses, it starts soft and tender at first. Gently exploring each other’s mouth, becoming intoxicated with each other. And again, like most of your kisses, the passion grows. The kiss becoming more and more intense. Pressing your lips against each other more urgently, he gently bits your lip as you moan and his tongue explores your mouth. In a swift movement, he grabs your thighs and brings you towards his seat, straddling his lap. You wrap your arms around his check, pulling him as close as humanly possibly, deepening the kiss.

He reluctantly pulls away before your kisses escalate any further. You both struggle to catch your breath for a few seconds. The kisses leaving you with your blood rushing into your head, wanting more. You look into his eyes as you see the raw emotion in them, feeling dizzy with desire.

“As much as I’d love to continue this. And trust me I would. I’ve thought about it a lot more than I’d care to admit. But, I have imagined us, you know, in a much more comfortable and romantic place.” he laughs lightly tapping your bum.

“Prude.” you tell him as you move off his lap and sit back onto the passenger seat.

The two of you lay back down, entwined in each other's arms, watching the stars twinkle above; trying to point out more constellations.

As the night passes, you both talk and share more pieces of yourselves, learning more about each other and feeling that, surely, if you weren’t already, you were falling in love with him.

Somewhere along the conversation, you had both fallen into a comfortable asleep in his car, with his arms holding your waist tightly.

The warmth of the sun wakes you up and you shuffle around to see Mason asleep with a slow and steady breathing pattern, and a small smile on his face.

You immediately see that it was bright out and that the windows had fogged up. Your mind starts to wonder just how long you’d been asleep, and how long you’d been out.

“Shit, Mase. It’s 6:43. Wake up.” you nudge him as you check your phone.

“Come on, babe just five more minutes.” he tries to grab onto you, trying to get you to cuddle him some more.

“I don’t wanna go. But I have to.” you say just above a whisper, trying not to overthink the way him calling you babe for the first time made you feel.

“I know, I don’t wanna say goodnight yet either. But, I gotta get you home so your parents won’t know. I want them to like me when I meet them for the first time.” he mutters as he begins to wake up.

“What makes you so sure I want you to meet my parents?” you challenge.

It was a subject you hadn’t touched yet. As much as you liked him, you had never discussed if you two were exclusive. Or, if he even wanted to introduce you each other to your lives like that. You hadn’t met each other’s friends or family, having kept your whatever-you-two-were to yourselves. So, you thread around the subject lightly.

“Because, I got you a gift.” he voices as he stretches towards the backseat, where a gift bag was sitting on the floor. “I had this whole thing planned out. Sunrise was at 5:57 am today. I checked before picking you up. I was gonna say you were my sunshine and everything. But I guess we missed that about an hour ago, so I hope you’ll still like it.”

He hands you the bag, sensing the nerves and anxiety he had as he was waiting for you to open it.

You chuckle at how endearing he was when he become flustered. It wasn’t a side of him you had seen much, as he usually carried himself with a confidence you admired.

“This is super cheesy.” you state, as you start to unpack the contents of the bag — the Chelsea jersey with his name and number and one ticket for the next home match in a few days.

“It is not. But, Christian is injured, I already told him to keep you company that day. I’m hoping you want to meet the rest of my friends after. I really want to introduce them to you as… well, as my girl.” he gazed at you with a shy smile.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you reply, “I would love to go to the game as your girl. And to meet your friends as your girl. And to do all that, as you girl. I was starting to worry you didn’t like me like that.”

“You know how much I like you. I just had to build the courage, Y/N. But fuck… I’m so fucking happy.” he expresses sincerely, before moving closer to you, pressing a kiss on your head. His lips linger for a few seconds. It was a small gesture he’d always do. One you were beginning to love. “My girl.”

“My girl,” he whispers again, “I can’t believe it. Me and you’ve got something special. I have never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“I’m so happy too.” you say with tears threatening to spill. “But, you need to take me home before I embarrass myself and start crying in front of you.”

“I think that would be very cute. But, because I don’t want to make my girl cry this early into our relationship I’ll do as you say. But we’re taking the long way home.”

____________________________________________

As you wake up the next day, you see a notification pop up on your phone.

Mason Mount has posted a new instagram story.

[drawfee-quot3s]

demeanour? i would only respect her

- nathan

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Hey! Could I get a little bit of Arsonist Neil? I desperately wanna know how this phone call will go! Thank you for sharing your beautiful writing Aerie!!! I wish you a good week!

WIP Wednesday (4/17) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 147)

When Neil hangs up the phone, there’s a warmth in his chest that he’s never noticed before. It’s nice to have someone to talk to after a horrid memory disguised as a nightmare. He fondly strokes his phone screen with the pad of his thumb and sighs. Andrew was angry at him, but still answered when Neil needed him. 

He can’t recall ever having that sort of friendship his entire life. Of course, talking to Andrew meant having to hear about that movie… But, even that was nice. Andrew’s voice is nice. He should narrate books or something. Neil double checks that his door is locked and barricaded with the chair before kicking off his shoes and sort of making his bed enough to crawl into it.

As he starts to jam the charger into the side of his slider phone, Neil notices he’s got an alarming amount of missed messages. He opens his text thread with Andrew and scrolls to the top, back to that angry ‘leave me alone’ that had him ripping the battery out.

Andrew I didn’t mean it. Tell me why you didn’t stay.

Neil lets out a breath. If only he could.

Andrew I apologize for jumping to conclusions. Obviously I’m not good with people either.

They’re a couple of idiots, it seems.

Andrew You know, technically, you did deliver on the coffee. I just didn’t drink it. I guess this means I’m paying next time. What should we do? I noticed there are a couple of movies playing that might be alright. We could catch a matinee. But, be warned, I will be sneaking candy in because I’m not a goddamn Rockefeller. Do you like M&Ms?

Andrew was trying to make other plans with him? With Neil? He can’t fucking believe that.

Andrew There’s a bunch of kids at work today. A field trip was arranged behind my back by my friend Renee. It’s just as fun as it sounds. One of the kids heckled me, then another asked how strong I was. So I was made to carry my very large coworker across the room. What’s new with you?

Neil knows firefighters have to be strong, but he’s suddenly wondering just how large Andrew’s co-worker was. Andrew seems quite sturdy, despite being even shorter than Neil.

Andrew I’m about to go to the movies with my brother who hates me. Well, I’m not sure if he still hates me. He used to. Wish me luck, firebug.

The nickname has a smile forming on Neil's face.

Andrew The movie was terrible, just so you know. I hated every second of it. My brother enjoyed it, but he’s stupid. Did you know a large soda costs like $50 now? I’m joking, obviously. But the prices are ridiculous, so I suppose I won’t be doing that again for a while.

Neil hasn’t been to a movie theater in… He counts back years in his head and thinks of the time he and his mother ran into one to hide from one of Nathan’s people. They’d hunkered down in a crowded theater playing some sort of kiddie movie about a little Hawaiian girl.

He didn’t get to watch it because Mary kept shoving him down into the seat and watching the doors behind them, but the tune of the song was catchy even if it was in a language he didn’t know. He hums what he remembers of it and taps out replies to almost every message Andrew had sent him. Then he rolls around and goes back to sleep.

[astra-galaxie]

✨🍕💼🥊🧊🍀🧠💀 for oberon please :3

Another OC to add to the request list! It's time for Nathan’s husband and Lars’s little brother to take the stage!

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Because it's been haunting me since high school!😭

Long story short, we read “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” in English class, and I liked the name Oberon but didn’t consider using it for an OC. When designing Nathan’s husband, I jokingly thought about using Oberon because of the “Oberon and the Indian boy” thing in the story. (I know, bad joke.) And while I tried using other names, I kept coming back to Oberon! Didn’t help that I was always seeing references to the play too… Seriously, there’s even one in MotP! So, since I couldn't escape it, I decided to use it!

If you can’t beat them, join them!

🍕 - What is their favourite food?

Burgers. Oberon loves a good burger and enjoys trying new combinations of meats, toppings, and sauces. He also loves hosting family barbeques, where he’ll fry up as many burgers and other foods as his friends and family can enjoy.

💼 - What do they do for a living?

Now that the Bureau has been disbanded, Oberon is between jobs. He still works for U.N.I.T. but doesn't have a civilian job jet. He will be moving to Grimsborough with Nathan so their son can finish school before they move to Australia, as they always planned. Oberon is considering a few career ideas, but he hasn’t decided on one yet.

(AKA, I haven't decided on one yet!😅)

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Love: Performing. Oberon has always had a flair for performing and loves being on stage. He’s the drummer in Lars’s band, and along with that, he also enjoys performing in plays and doing magic acts. Some people claim it's because he’s named after a theatre character, but whatever the reason, Oberon loves taking the spotlight (but he will always share it with others).

Hate: Buying new clothes. While Oberon is very fashionable and loves dressing up, he hates shopping for new clothes because it means he needs to find ones that won’t irritate his scarred skin. He has learned which fabrics will and will not irritate his skin, but that does not always guarantee he’ll be comfortable wearing them. The fit of the clothes and how the fabric has been treated play a role in his comfort, so a clothes shopping trip is always a daunting task and challenging experience.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

Pretty much. Some things changed slightly, like his hairstyle and the burn scars, but Oberon is mostly the same as what I initially planned for him to look like!

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

That I gave Nathan a kid before I gave him a husband!😅

Avi’s origins are actually older than my series. I created him for an unrelated crack fic I wrote before starting my series. In it, he had a different father, so when I decided to bring Avi back and make him canon in my series, I realized I needed to give him a new second father. So, Oberon Douglas was created as I always loved Lars’s character and wanted an excuse to give him more love!

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

It's a tie between his personality and design. I love that Oberon has similarities to Lars to showcase their connection but differences to set him apart from his brother. I also love writing him and Nathan together because their somewhat opposite personalities work well together. As for his design, while I’m terrible at drawing burn scars, I still love the avatar I created for his profile. The scars show that he went through so much in his past but didn’t let it stop him from building a future.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Claustrophobia - fear of small or tight spaces.

After being trapped under a support beam in a burning house, Oberon developed a fear of being trapped in small spaces. The fire part somewhat scares him, but being trapped and unable to get out of anywhere is what scares him more. He prefers wide, open spaces to small, confined ones any day!

Ta-da! Oberon’s answers are done!

I hope you enjoyed them and thank you for the ask!

[drippycomedy]

Hello! It’s my first post!

Well, not my first post ever, it’s been at least 12 years since I’ve been on this app.

I’m Nathan, or Drippy, or whatever you want to call me really. I’m 30 and I live in Wales. I’m married, and I have 2 beautiful daughters.

Why have I got tumblr again?

Simple really, I’m using it as a blog to record my journey, because recently I’ve decided to pursue my dream of stand up comedy.

It’s been an ambition of mine since I was 12 years old and saw a Peter Kay DVD my grandma got for Christmas. But like most things life got in the way, and I had to put my dream on hold.

Couple that with being a painfully awkward and shy teenager, I wasn’t really right for the job.

I spent most of my 20s being a dad, and a husband. Working hard to pay the bills and provide for my family. In 2022 we got our own business by buying the lease on a fish and chip shop, and that’s been a rollercoaster! Some great highs, and some real lows. But overall it’s nice to be your own boss. We even expanded our operation and struck a deal with a local pub, we would cook food in their kitchen space since they weren’t using it, and we’d pay them rent.

Unfortunately that didn’t work out, but we did become good friends with the Landlord. Let’s call him John.

John and I would have long chats about his life, what he’d accomplished and most importantly his regrets. He was getting on in years, early 60s I would say, and his body was slowing becoming more of a burden than anything else.

Anyway, about 3 weeks ago I get a text. John has had a heart attack, and died.

He had a favourite seat in the pub, and that’s where he was. He stood up to go for a vape and just like that… dead.

It really shook me. To my very core. We had spoken a few days before, he said he wasn’t feeling great but he was still there, laughing and joking as normal.

So that’s why I’ve decided to do this. Life is short and I’ll always regret it, if I don’t try.

Maybe I’ll bomb, and be absolutely terrible. Maybe I’ll become rich and famous (first joke)

Who knows! That’s the exciting bit.

So please, come with me on my journey. I’d love to have you along for the ride.

[liquid-geodes]

LOVE that I'm becoming a cryptid in the nwtb community.

Everyone is looking for me in chat

I'm LITERALLY not allowed to leave chat when he's in the middle of a pokemon battle because every time I do something terrible happens to his run and everyone starts panicking until I come back

Tumblr community constantly looks for my reactions when he drops something new, freaks out when I haven't said anything yet

Tumblr community also flocks to my blog just for new updates

I am single handedly paying for this man's groceries through merch and superchats

I'm chat's special little pogchamp

Nathan always notices my chat messages at the WORST times and then LAUGHS at my dumbass

Everyone then REPEATS THE MESSAGE THAT MADE HIM LAUGH SEVERAL TIMES until the joke is no longer funny, effectively killing it in a matter of seconds

People have started using "Nate Posting" in their own posts, blissfully unaware that this is, in fact, my simp tag i made specifically for Nathan and NOT a general discussion tag on this blog

I never imagined that THIS is what I'd become the cryptid of, I never imagined being mothman in a YouTube stream chat section but alas, heavy is the head that wears the jester's cap

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

@monthly-challenge 2024 | 8. Taking a Nap

I used this prompt for my original characters, Nathan and Patience: the story is under the cut.

Word count: 1,074

Patience yawned again, this time not suppressing it enough to avoid Nathan’s notice.

“Are you coming down with something?” he asked, practically.

She shook her head. Rhona, who was sitting next to her, chimed in, “Trust me, she’s just tired.”

“I can answer on my own, thank-ye-very-much,” said Patience. “But yes. It’s not a migraine.”

“Good, because I want to spend this time with you.” He shot her a grin; Rhona rolled her eyes.

“I feel like a third wheel,” she informed the ceiling. “I wonder why?”

“Bring along a fourth wheel and we can get this show on the road,” said Patience, a grin of her own breaking through. “How ‘bout it?”

“I should ask Lia, or Chloe or someone. Instead of sitting here while you two are busy making heart eyes at each other.”

“We don’t do that too often,” disagreed Patience.

Rhona laughed. “That was a joke, right? Right?”

Nathan laughed too. Patience glanced between them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, somewhat crossly. She was sincere, and Nathan gave her a glance not quite as loving as his previous ones.

“It’s a joke,” he said. “Can you not take a joke?”

“Not when you’re going to be horrid about it,” she said. “I’m no good with jokes, you know that.”

“Eh, you’re pretty good at them,” disagreed Nathan.

“I’m not trying to have an argument,” said Patience. There was silence for a moment, before Rhona filled it in by asking if either of them were up for a card game. Nathan was, and Patience debated claiming a headache and retiring to calm herself down. Eventually she said she was.

They played in somewhat less friendly silence, apart form the occasional words that were strictly about the game. At the end Nathan apologised for being horrid to her.

“You don’t need to apologise,” said Patience, who had calmed down and was now ready to accept and offer apologies. “It was my own fault being all snippy about it.”

“It was my fault for mocking you over it and belittling you,” he said.

“You apologise too easily,” said Patience, beginning to feel annoyed. “Too easily! Is that possible? I can hold grudges for ages, Pat. You should know this of me by now!”

“Sure, I know you say you hold grudges, but I don’t know—you’ve never seemed the sort who really holds a grudge, just thinks he does.” She spoke with the authority of a known grudge-holder, and Rhona made eye contact and smiled.

“The fact that we didn’t end up like Anne and Gilbert for the first few books is due mainly to circumstances, otherwise I could had ended up holding a grudge against you for some silly reason.”

Patience sighed. “You’re too hard on yourself, Nathan. You really need to be nicer to yourself sometimes.”

His expression darkened, and she knew she had hit a painful spot. “No.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged and mumbled his words, so that she missed what he said and had to ask for clarification. He shook his head helplessly instead of answering.

“You need to work on this,” she said, and knew at once that she had gone too far.

“Absolutely not,” said Nathan. “I’m entitled to think what I will about myself, thanks very much.”

“I just want the best for you,” she said, somewhat helplessly on her own account. She didn’t know really how to combat this. She had experienced such thoughts in herself, too—but then Nathan had helped her, and encouraged her, but it seemed sometimes as if he refused to let her encourage him too. It wasn’t a terrible problem by any means, but it was one she wanted to help him to fix because it could always get worse.

If he wouldn’t accept her help, though, what could she do, really?

It was, then, with a touch of annoyance that she added, “I don’t want you to keep putting yourself down. How do you think it makes other people feel? The people who love you?”

Nathan blinked in surprise. Rhona got up and left the room without comment.

“We care about you, Nathan, that’s why we want to make you not say these things.”

“I’m entitled to say whatever I want about myself,” he said stubbornly.

“Maybe so, but you’ve got to know that I’m going to pull you up on it almost every time.”

“Has it occurred to you that that’s really annoying?” he queried.

“Has it occurred to you that I don’t particularly care, since I think it’s for your own good?”

“You don’t care about my feelings?” His expression was stubborn and growing angry. “Got it. Well noted for the future, my girl.”

“Please don’t be horrid,” she said, softening suddenly. “Don’t say things like that. I just want to do the best I can do for you, you know?”

“I get it, but I’m entitled to still get annoyed by it,” he said stiffly. With a sudden emotional glance at her, he added, “If we’re going to hit shoals on this kind of thing, how are we ever supposed to last?” Patience froze, mouth half open. He had never said something like this.

“I want to be together for the long term!” he exclaimed. “I want—I want to marry you, Patience! But I don’t see how our differences can be reconciled!”

In an altered tone, she said slowly, “My dear, we don’t have to figure everything out right this instant. We just have to try, and keep on trying, for now. Surely?”

He pressed one hand against his eyes. “I worry about our future, Patience. Because I love you, and I don’t want to give you up. But I worry we won’t work out.”

She yawned again, a wave of tiredness encompassing her. “I don’t want to give you up either,” she said quietly. “Can’t we just stop this conversation for now and come back to it later, maybe?”

“Sure.” He held out his arms. “Come and cuddle, Patience. If you want to, that is.”

“Always.” She relocated herself to his lap, curled up against him and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Very quickly, Patience was asleep, and when Rhona came cautiously back she found them both fast asleep. Nathan’s arms were around Patience, and his head tilted in a protective fashion over her.

“I presume you’ve made up your argument,” said Rhona, too quietly to disturb the sleepers.

Tagging @stealingmyplaceinthesun @graycedelfin @pilgrimsofworship and @choasuqeen