One Fish, Two Fish

One Fish, Two Fish

Nathan Bateman x reader fluff (idk what nathan + fluff is doing to me but the brainrot is REAL)

for @chaithetics in her time of need xox

cw: nothing!

song inspo - you look like you can't swim by Matilda Mann and Orange Juice by Alfie Jukes

You sat in the corner of your office, discreetly observing your coworkers. A small pink sticky note was hidden in your clammy hands. You could be patient, waiting for a clear path to the other side of the building. Where he was.

Yes, it was you, the supposed sticky-note bandit that had been slyly tucking them all over the building. Inspirational messages, jokes, dirty secrets, anything to keep the moods high and people chatting. There was a rumor of who it was, and you had surprisingly kept your cover.

Although recently, some had noted the surprising change in the sticky note bandit's habits. Pink sticky notes, specifically written for one "Nathan" with little rhymes and haikus followed by a little goldfish. Someone's got a crush, the secretaries would titter excitedly. Or, surprisedly, as Nathan Bateman wasn't exactly office-crush material.

He would hole up in his office, scowling at those who walked by. He commandeered a coffee maker all to himself, stating that 'once the rest of these plebians earn their right to caffeine,' he'd be hoarding the brain juice to himself.

A real charmer.

But you'd found yourself blushing at eye contact and looking forward to project conferences with him. Your unfortunate propensity towards stuttering led you to share this quiet attention in the form of little notes, handwritten in a red ink pen.

some were teasing -

Your henley looks nice today, Nathan. Or is that yesterday's?

some were sweet -

Thank you for what you do for us <3

But all of them could be found tucked into files, on the underside of his laptop, stuck to his chair. Nobody knew how they got there, and how the culprit had never been caught.

Another one. The little pink monstrosity was strategically placed over his laptop camera, a doodled caricature of him frowning comically. Nathan plucked it off and studied it. It was pretty damn accurate, even if he detested the size of his glasses. He didn't look like Dahmer, he preferred an academic round-frame to accentuate his eyes.

Grunting a laugh, he dropped it into his desk drawer, where it fluttered to join its brethren.

Of course he knew who it was. But you'd clearly be too shy to do anything but gawk from behind your computer, so he didn't blow your cover. Besides, it was funny, listening to the rumor mill churn in thought while you sad back unassumedly, smiling to yourself.

He resumed working, opening his inbox to find a progress report from you. Leaning forward, he leisurely scrolled through the lines of notes, lips twitching when he saw the anecdotes and sarcastic comments typed in the margins. You were a funny thing, having so much to say but keeping your lips shut tight.

Nathan didn't mind your little game.

You'd woken up with a terrible migraine. Every flashing light splintered your skull, the pulse of your heart like a war drum behind your eyes. You'd swallowed twice the recommended dose of Advil and nothing was working.

All the lights in your office were off, earning you a few puzzled looks from your coworkers. You didn't have the energy to play your game today, barely able to type with your jittery fingers. You pondered calling out sick, but the shame from Nathan made you shiver. He didn't take kindly to missing work, no matter the trouble. Hell, Nancy's daughter broke her leg and he wouldn't let her take a day off.

"Your kid's fuckup shouldn't affect the productivity of this company," he said crisply.

Today, thankfully, wasn't too busy. You had emails to respond to, but other than that your schedule was clear.

Half an hour till clock-out. You could do half an hour. It would be grisly, but you had it in you.

A knock at your doorframe jolted you from your stupor. Wincing at the gesture, you sloppily waved at the visitor to come in.

It was Henry, one of the interns. He stumbled a bit in the dim light, but made it to your desk, where dropped a thick file on your keyboard.

"Bateman," he said apologetically, then stepped out.

No. You gotta be fucking kidding me. Less than an hour from the end of your workday, and he has the audacity to drop the biggest project file you've ever seen on your desk?

A pitiful groan escaped you as you flicked open the huge stack. The file was as thick as your arm, no doubt filled with tedious code that your aching mind could barely process on a good day.

"Fuck you, dude," you slurred to yourself, rubbing your forehead. Something caught your eye and you blinked.

Your sticky note with the caricature of his truly.

How-

Fuck.

Hot shame singed your ears. He knew. He totally knew, oh god that's so embarrassing-

A second note was stapled to it, with his messy black scrawl.

Nice sketch, though I wouldn't say art is your calling. A little too Dahmer-ish, Goldie.

Goldie - a moniker after the little fish you'd sign your notes with. You groaned louder, dropping your head in your hands. How could you look at him? His smug grin made your cheeks burn brighter. This was supposed to be a stupid little way for you to- uggghhhhhh.

You shoved the folder into your bag and elected to work on it at home. You couldn't stand to be on the same floor as him.

His gaze followed you out.

For the next few days, your stack of pink notes remained untouched. You still sprinkled your yellow ones around but avoided Bateman's office like the plague.

Maybe he'd forget.

Throwing yourself into Bateman's newest brainchild; a website designed specifically to resemble a notebook, complete with 'rippable' pages and a light scratching sound while typing, you whole-heartedly tried to pretend your embarrassing unveiling hadn't happened.

Until one morning, a small bottle of Excedrin was placed on your desk with a small, blue sticky note on top.

Didn't mean to scare you off, it read, with a poorly drawn fish underneath. Blinking, you read the note again. Definitely Nathan's scrawl, but the sudden kindness threw you for a loop.

One part of you was screaming with joy, and the other was angstily throwing rocks at it. Leave him alone, stop it, pretend it never happened.

But...

The little bottle of migraine medication made you smile. You tucked it into your desk. A second message was written on the side:

Now you don't have an excuse to skip my meetings.

Despite the teasing nature, your heart warmed. From his lair in the far hallway, it seemed so strange that Nathan would notice your frequent headaches.

He was being...nice.

Taking out your pen, you scribbled a thank you. This time, you signed it with two fish.

I'll have to get more creative, then.

An invitation.

He tried to ignore the triumphant swell in his chest when a pink flash caught his eye. A new note. His hands grabbed greedily at it. Of course he hadn't missed your little notes, that would imply he had feelings.

Which he didn't.

Obviously.

Realizing how pathetically giddy he was, Nathan crumpled the note and returned to his desk, a mask of stoicism in place once more. He only got through half a line of code before guilt started nibbling his conscience. The crumpled piece of you looked so lonely on the floor, tossed away like a piece of trash.

Making sure nobody was looking, he retrieved it and smoothed out the wrinkles, gently placing it in view of his keyboard.

You'd drawn two fish this time. It made him happier than he'd like to admit.

He tried to replicate your skilled doodle, but he resorted to a squiggle after a few failed attempts.

Maybe if you applied that creativity to your work, I'd be more inclined to approve your vacation.

Touche, came the reply, with a wink face and one of the fish dressed in a pair of glasses.

It became a daily habit, pulling out the little colored pads and finding times to sneak them into folders or under coffee cups or on desktop monitors.

Nathan ignored the tingly warmth in his chest as long as he could. In his mind, shoved somewhere in the dusty archives, he knew it was a crush. But a small fear kept him from saying anything. What if he did scare you off? Were you trying to catch his heart, or was this just a fun game? He didn't want to ruin the one pseudo-connection he'd had with another human being in the last five years.

He scowled at himself in the reflection of his screen. This was what he hated about other people. The feelings. Others were so complicated, lines of code he didn't know the solution to. He got tangled so easily in the web of relationships that he avoided them all together.

Like always, he didn't realize how stuck he was until it was too late.

His eyes were drawn to you now, every time he saw you flit by his window. He wanted you to look at him, to acknowledge the little connection you had. But your eyes remained glued to the floor, never flicking his way. Nathan fell just short of storming into your office to get your attention.

You noticed the increase in notes.

The pastel blue ones Nathan had claimed were littered everywhere now. Some didn't even have anything meaningful, just doodles or random questions.

Your favorite color?

How do you take your Thai, spicy or not?

You answered them all, sending them back without much of a second thought. It didn't click that he just wanted to talk to you until a single blue note was placed in the middle of your screen.

Please don't ignore me.

You frowned. You weren't ignoring him; every note he sent you had replied to. But then...you never looked at him, though you felt his gaze burning against your face. You could sense his agitation every time you ignored him in a meeting. He wasn't very direct either, but you and him both knew what he was itching for.

Please don't ignore me.

That familiar wave of anxiety washed over you. That knowing how every time you opened your mouth, a stuttering mess would fall out and you'd be embarrassed past fixing. He was expecting of you, now. He wanted to talk to you - the very thing you'd been hoping to avoid.

Nathan smacked the edge of his desk. The smarting sting in his hand distracted from the wailing of his mind. He'd fucked it up. You gave him an inch and he took a mile. That web was tangling him deeper and deeper. He just wanted to play your game and he'd take nthe fun away.

It had been days since his last note. His last, desperate, pathetic, whiny note. He'd scared you off for the second time, and this time he wouldn't get you back.

He rifled through the ones he'd saved. They were precious, the tiny pieces of you that you'd shared. He had one framed on his desk - the first little doodle you'd sent. It was, admittedly, the best part of his day.

And now it was gone.

That anxiety circled the drain for days as you wrestled with yourself. Obviously, if you said anything, it would crash and burn. But you didn't want to end the little game.

He'd signed the note with one, very lonely looking goldfish.

Aw, fuck.

It was late. Most everybody had left, but you knew he'd still be there, typing furiously. You almost ran to his office before you lost the nerve. I'm not ignoring you, you rehearsed in your head, over and over. You mouthed the words, swerving around a stray office chair. You couldn't fuck this up.

Strangely, his office door was locked. The faint glow of his computer shone underneath the door, but the knob was firm.

You swallowed down any anxiety and knocked. Silence.

Was he being spiteful? Your heart felt crushed with the quiet. You knocked again, louder.

Nathan? His name was on the tip of your tongue, but your dignity clamped your lips closed. A third knock would be too far. Did he want to be left alone? Maybe he had a meeting. At 8 pm? He was probably busy.

Maybe he didn't want to talk to you anymore.

Guilt curled in your stomach. You felt terrible. Biting your lip, you began to turn away. Stopped. Grabbed a pen and scribbled on a nearby sheet of paper.

Nathan?

Crouching, you shoved it with all your might under the door. You sat, drumming the pen on your fingertips. It had been several minutes now. The bitter sting of rejection made your throat hurt. Don't cry. All things end, don't waste your salt.

A rustle, and the corner of a leaflet brushed your calf. You snatched it up, sniffling back the waterworks.

A small fish with a question mark. You laughed a watery laugh, wiping your eyes.

Carefully, you sketched a small fish next to it. A speech bubble, filled with I missed you.

Your hands shook as you passed it back. Was it too forward? Your heart was pounding like a racehorse as the feeling of dread crawled over you.

The gentle whirring of the air conditioning was the only movement in the office. You couldn't see him; he must have been pressed up against the door.

The question mark had been erased, this time replaced with a sad face.

You scribbled a note below. I didn't mean to ignore you. I didn't want to ruin it.

An exclamation mark.

I'm not good at words.

His fish swam closer to your fish, a fin reached out for comfort.

ok? was scrawled above it.

You drew a smiley face in response.

His response took longer this time, and you wished you could see him. He hadn't opened the door, but he knew you were there. Maybe he wasn't good with words either.

Nathan's fish held a small flower, messily sketched into a bouquet. It was clear he'd drawn and redrawn. Hence the pause.

You better not be allergic.

You laughed surprisedly.

Ironically, I have a seafood allergy.

The fish returned with a face mask.

Another giggle.

Nathan's ear was pressed as hard as he could against the door, drinking in your quiet laugh. Sharpie stained his fingers, and he so badly wanted to open the door. But then you'd see his red eyes and quivering lip. The toll of your attention had gotten too much, and he'd hidden under his desk until he was sure you'd left.

But.

The paper sparked hope. Your familiar red ink eased the tears, and he could hear your pacing outside. Maybe you weren't mad. He could fix it.

You slipped the paper back. He was shit at drawing, but your willingness to play along made his heart swell.

Your fish was alone again. A single heart was drawn above it, carefully colored in.

Did I ruin it?

His hands were shaking as he drew another, smaller heart beside it. His sketch was messy and the ink was running, but his heart hurt so bad he thought he would die. He didn't ruin it. It's okay, this was gonna work out.

A soft knock sounded above his ear. He shakily reached for the knob and unlatched it. Your soft eyes peeked out from the crack. Nathan nudged the door open some more, hesitant to meet your gaze.

"H..Hi," you whispered.

The biggest fucking grin of his life split his face in two.

The two of you sat in the dark of the cubicle farm, grinning like lovesick fools in your respective piles of sticky notes.

i 👏love👏this👏so👏much!!!!!!!!! i screamed when i saw the notif thank u thank u thank uuuuuu

sweet nathan is the best nathan 😌

xoxoxox love u fen!!

Need You

Nathan Bateman x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Nathan wants to go to sleep.

A/N: Guess who's being all sappy againnnn.

Warnings: fluffy fluff fluff, self-indulgent as HECK, swearing, Nathan being a little shit, reader being a little shit too, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 758

You hear Nathan before you see him, practically stomping down the corridor. Most of the time he was surprisingly light footed and took a perverse glee in sneaking up on you at any available opportunity. So that fact that he was being so obvious about where he was now was most certainly to send you a message. 

The message of: hurry the fuck up and come to bed. 

You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips. 

As the office door opened you pretended to ignore it, not even looking up from your screen as you typed. 

Out of the corner of your vision, you could see Nathan’s outline in the doorway, his hands on his hips as he watched you, the air of unimpressed rolling off him in waves. 

You count the seconds in your head, one, two, three, four…

“What the fuck are you doing?” He grumbled, padding into the room and standing next to you. 

“Working.” 

“It’s late.”

You don’t look up from your screen. “So?” 

“So?” 

“So?”

He groans. “Fucking turn that off.” 

You school your face into a scowl, despite the fact you want to giggle, and glare at him. “I’m working, you’re always working weird hours.”

“You were working five minutes ago, you were looking at lego sets.” He crosses his arms.

“Monitoring my computer?” You smirk.

“Always.”

“It’s research.” You stress.

“No, it’s not.” 

You turn back to your computer screen, but don’t even bother to pretend to hit the keys. 

Nathan lets out a humph. 

“Why do you want me to stop looking at Lego sets?” You ask as innocently as you can, looking back up at him. 

Nathan swallows, still scowling. 

You smile, sickenly sweet as glee runs through your veins. Slowly, you move to go back to what you were doing, purposefully moving languidly to drag the seconds out.

He breaks sooner than you thought he would.

“Fine, I’ll buy you every fucking Lego set that has ever been made, hell, I’ll buy you three. One to build, one to keep and one to burn-”

“That’s a waste, Nathan.”

He ignores your interjection, but he rolls his eyes at you, “if you just turn off the computer.”

“Why?” You don’t look at him. 

He grumbles again.

“Why Nathan?” You ask in a sing-song voice. 

“Don’t make me say it.” He mutters.

“Sorry?” You cup your hand to your ear in an over the top fashion just to tease him, “I didn’t catch that?” 

He groans, flopping his hands to his sides, looking momentarily like a toddler about to throw themselves on the floor for not getting their own way. 

“I want to go to sleep.” He huffs out.

“Sorry?” You can’t help but push him.

“I want to go to sleep.” He repeats, louder and clearer, and definitely with more exasperation.

You look up at him, giving him your full and undivided attention. “So?” 

He glares at you, a storm brewing on his forehead. But instead of saying something rude or marching off, he takes a deep breath. “I would like to go to sleep with you in bed next to me,” he pauses for half a second, pushing the frown from his face before he adds, “please.”

Surprisingly the word isn’t said begrudgingly. 

He catches the small flicker of shock on your face and he kneels down next to you, battering his eyes dramatically and putting his hands on your knees. 

“Please come to bed with me?” He says in an awful baby voice. 

You burst out laughing. “Stop, don’t ever do that fucking voice again.”

“Why?” He blinks harder, continuing the voice and somehow making it worse. 

You playfully go to push his cheek softly away, but he catches your wrist in his hand lightening fast as he kisses your wrist. 

“Please?” He repeats, still babyfied. 

“Will you stop that voice if I say yes?” You giggle. 

And he nods looking up at you softly, still battering his eyes. 

You snort. “Alright. You’re so silly.”

“No?” He grins and kisses your palm.

“Yes. All you needed to do was admit you’d like me to come to bed with you.” 

“Hmm,” he snuffles closer on his knees, pushing your legs lightly apart. “Need me to tell you I need you, huh? You that pathetic?” He teases.

“Yes.” You say bluntly, smiling, knowing that’s not what he expects.

There’s a flicker of surprise for a second before a soft smile pulls at his lips. “I need you, baby,” he says silkily, knowing that’s not what you expect either.

Thank you for reading!

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it's weird that i joined tumblr because of screenshots of the funny posts from Old Tumblr and now that i'm here its not even the same site

like where did all the good people go?? i want it to be funny and silly how come i always miss the fun stuff :(

"On AO3 there are about 6,400,000 fics as of now that are M/M and only about 1,200,000 fics for F/F. Fans should stop excluding female characters for the sake of male characters" Hold the fuck on???? People don't "exclude female characters for the sake of male characters". The ratio between M/M fics and F/F fics is literally because more people like M/M fics more than they do F/F and that's actually fine, it's not that deep. Because people can write whatever they like.

Yes, misogyny is a very real thing. But you're erasing the creditability of that word and are the ones doing harm to women if you scream misogyny every time you see something that slightly upsets you. Writers ONLY writing M/M doesn't automatically mean they're misogynists, without any other factors present that may or may not make them misogynists, the only fact that 'some writers ONLY write M/M' literally just means they like writing romance between two male characters and that's it.

This is fanfiction we're talking about, not a political debate or social justice protest. If the majority of people want to write about two male characters falling in love, then let them.

You don't get to shame a writer for "ONLY writing about M/M" because everybody has the rights to write whatever they like.

If you want more works for F/F, then write F/F yourself. No one's stopping you.

As a feminist myself, shaming writers for only writing M/M doesn't make you a feminist, it makes you an entitled dick.

(from this poll by @curiositysavesthecat nothing against the mods of the poll blog btw, they just run polls that were sent to them.)

let's place bets on how many seconds it will take for alien: romulus fanfiction to start overthrowing my dash

it already started anybody guess 5 seconds? the pot is all yours

let's place bets on how many seconds it will take for alien: romulus fanfiction to start overthrowing my dash