FEVER DREAMS

Nate Blackwood. 31. professional black sheep. ﹂ ﹁ oh, they lead you to the water and they leave you there to drown.

[nateblackwood]

it’s ur local clown here to re-reintroduce this flaming dumpster fire of a man because a lot has happened to him in a short time and i think he deserves it. so. here we go.

Full name: Raymond Nathaniel Blackwood Jr. Nicknames: Nate. He rejects any other names but this one, but call him whatever you want if you wanna piss him off because that’s fun. Gender: cismale Pronouns: he/him Birthday: April 27, 1990 Sexual orientation: big, boring het boy, despite my best efforts Marital status: single Residence: Sunstone Beach

important stuff

big zuko energy

certified Sad Boy™

has been a disappointment in his father’s eyes since day one and he spends a lot of energy on self-loathing and fearing his inadequacies so it will often manifest in bouts of anger or aggression to take the attention off how little he thinks of himself. 

nothing he does has ever been good enough for anyone and it’s a chip on his shoulder, a burden he makes everyone else around him carry, and when he was 17, he really went off the deep end, stealing his dad’s boat and crashing it and later spilling secrets and opinions on his father’s politics (spoiler alert: they weren’t good ones) to someone he didn’t realize was a reporter until he was reading his own quotes in a story the very next day. raymond sr. shipped him off to a boarding school in new york, and that’s sort of where nate began to actually live his life for himself.

he met a girl, fell in love, started building his life outside of his family’s expectations and was actually happy for a minute. then his dad called him home to act as the president of the blackwood foundation and because he will never not want his father to love him, he left his girl in new york and came home to do what was expected of him.

for five years, he was the president of the foundation in name alone. raymond sr really pulled the strings behind the scenes. 

one night, raymond sr sent nate to the docks to check on one of their boats whose alarm had been set off and when nate got there, the men who’d broken onto the boat were still there and decided it’d be more fun to beat the shit out of the blackwood kid but were quickly run off by ryder, who was just in the right (or wrong??) place at the right time. 

nate spent several days in the hospital and his dad never visited or called which was especially shitty because the reason the men were on the boat in the first place was because the blackwood foundation had absorbed their company when it “went under” (read: when raymond sr decided he wanted it for himself)

so when nate got out of the hospital, he went to see his dad and gave him the keys to his house and car and said he was done and he wanted nothing more to do with him or the business. raymond sr said that was fine, made him sign an nda (which he did without reading because SMART) and nate was free of his family.

a few days later, an article came out detailing all the shady dealings the blackwood foundation had been a part of and named nate as the one behind them all. (spoiler alert: he wasn’t)

so his reputation was tarnished and he was left with nothing. he pouted for a while (and cussed at some ducks) but then started to pick himself back up, got back together with his ex, eventually proposed and shit was looking good for him. but then she left and it sent him into a tailspin. 

feeling like he’s really got nothing now and nothing to lose, nate’s hatched a plan to return to his father under the guise of the prodigal son, but he’s really just collecting info to bring his dad down for good. but along the way, he’s burning every bridge and setting every fire because how does one bring down a monster? by becoming a monster themselves. *suspenseful, eerie music plays in the background*

[darkontheotherside]

Matthew Daddario as Scooter Polarsky on Why Women Kill 2x06.

[lostyanting]

Matthew Daddario photographed by Victoria Stevens for VMAN Magazine.

[nateblackwood]

lilywhittaker​:

.

“Well, now that my impromptu vacation is over, I have to review the stack of resumes on my desk first thing on Monday morning. I wish I took more than a week off, but wedding season must go on.” In all honesty, Lily was glad to be home and back to her daily routine of work and spending time with those closest to her. “I bought you something.” The statement of mystery was followed by Lily pulling an intricately decorated box full of chocolates. “It’s from Debauve & Gallais, the official chocolatier of Napoleon, as well as many French kings,” she explained, handing the box over to her friend. It was a small gesture that she often did when travelling, yet a meaningful one when she brought something back for a loved one no matter how simple. To Lily, it means that they crossed her mind.

“I guess it’s no surprise given that I was away for a week without him for my birthday, but Bash and I are no longer together,” she informed him, shrugging as she told him what had happened. “I thought I was pregnant,” Lily admitted, letting the new information linger for a little while. She didn’t know what Nate thought about parenthood, or her being a parent, but he was one of two people she trusted enough to disclose it to. “It was a false alarm, but it made me think about having a family one day. And we’ve just been fighting a lot about small things, and I didn’t think he wanted the same things as I did in life. I didn’t see a future for us, no matter how much I wanted to. We argued when I went to break up, and we both said some things. I can’t speak for him, but I regret some of the stuff I said, what’s done is done though.” It was an attempt to play it off, to act as though it didn’t bother her as much as it did. “I guess you’ve been through this too, when you love someone so much but you ultimately know you’re bad for each other. You don’t have to answer this but… did Bash ever apologize to you for ambushing you back in December?”

.

“You know what you should do? Hire someone to go through resumes for you.” His lips quirked into the barest hint of a smile. It was something new he was trying: bringing a little life back into himself, even if it felt stiff and awkward. “But I guess then you’d have to go through those resumes to find the right fit, and we’d still be having this conversation.” He laughed once and watched her with dimmed curiosity as she pulled out a box of chocolates, one side of his mouth curling a little higher. He didn’t indulge his sweet tooth often, but as his eyes roamed the box, he knew it was likely the contents of the box wouldn’t survive the week. And that was being generous.

He told her as much as he pulled her into a one armed hug and thanked her for thinking of him. 

Nate stepped out of the embrace, eyes tracing the box of chocolates when she spoke again. His head snapped up, surprised by the shift in conversation, and eyed her for a moment. Swallowing, he set the box down on the table beside him. He tried not to think of Verity, but the door was open and he saw her face in his mind. Nate blinked to rid himself of the ghost that still haunted him-- would maybe always haunt him-- and focused instead on Lily. “How are you feeling about it now, after your trip? I know it’s not an easy realization to swallow,” he admitted. “And it’s okay to not be okay right now, you know. You don’t have to pretend. At least, not with me. Never with me.” 

Her next question drew a sigh from him, a single, humorless huff of a laugh. “Uh.. no. He didn’t. But he got tackled for it, so we’re probably even.” He dipped his head, trying to catch her eye again. “I said some really fucked up shit before Verity left, too. And I fucking hate it that it’s probably the last thing I’ll ever say to her.” He packed the punch of those words away to feel later-- because he knew he would feel them later-- and pressed on. “But if it bothers you, there’s nothing wrong with getting closure. It’s not ‘what’s done is done’. He meant something to you, god only knows why. But I wish someone had told me that, you know? It probably wouldn’t have helped, but I like to think it would.” 

[nateblackwood]

tyrosales​:

“Many things suit me, it’s what happens when you’re irresistibly beautiful.” Ty sighed as if his beauty was a burden nobody else in the world would ever come to know. It was followed by a soft giggled, his bright blue eyes transfixed on Nate, a smile curling at his lips. “Sadly as you have been stricken with the curse and illness of heterosexuality, the world’s most prominent plague, I cannot bear but look at you and feel nothing but sadness.” his tone was soft, familiarity and fondness infused within each word. Many years of knowing the blackwoods came with such meetings, his own relationship with Anna had branched out to reach those of her familial ties as well. “I know this is your property, but what has you up so late and out in the night? Not saying I worry about you or anything but…” most of what he meant to say was a lie, he cared too much about the people in his life. Now more than ever since he felt so alone being back home. “You alright? Or will you forever be annoyed by your sisters friend who once might’ve asked you to carry me piggy back when we were younger.” Nate was in a word, beautiful, much like many of the people he loved in Crescent Harbor, they were all beautiful in a way he could not describe. Sure they were appealing to the eyes, Nate with his hazel eyes, his riot of raven black hair that was a stark contrast to his skin.

.

Nate snorted, eyes rolling with the kind of annoyance that only ran surface level, its roots buried somewhere in fondness. Deep, deep down. “Don’t look at me, then,” he suggested, though the words edged on amused.

A different kind of annoyance roiled around his insides at the question-- one that had nothing to do with Ty and everything to do with why he was out here. And why he had no desire to even consider the answers to that question. “Why not?” he countered, fingers tapping idly at the bottle beside him. “It’s out here, might as well enjoy it. I, at least, have more of a reason to be here than you do. The public beach not exclusive enough for you?”

[dailyaleclightwood]

#head of the institute

[nateblackwood]

Your hair looks sexy pushed back

rio?? how'd you get this number??

[soracities]

“I walk around the world like a ghost, and sometimes I question whether I even exist. Whether I’ve ever existed at all.”

— Paul Auster, Travels in the Scriptorium (via larmoyante)

[nateblackwood]

feidavenport​:

.

“Ahh,” she said, following his gaze to the imposing building behind them, “that’s Blackwood Castle, huh? You are royalty then. Shall I curtsy?” She made no effort to stand and do so, knowing she’d only tumble over in the sand. She looked at the house, which was hazy either from the moonlight or the edibles, but either way, looked about as charismatic as the house she’d just moved into, which was to say, not at all. Nick was an architect, and had explained to her all the incredible design features of the house, but it just seemed empty to her. She wondered if Blackwood Castle felt like that to… him.

It was then she realized he hadn’t said his first name, and she smiled a bit, deciding to carry on with that. “I’m a Davenport,” she said proudly, as though that meant anything at all. “You may not recognize the name, but we’re a very big deal in Rhode Island.”

She looked at him again, Prince Nameless Blackwood, hazy from moonlight and cigarette smoke, and tried to determine if he was as empty as his castle. He tried to seem like it - dark and imposing - but she saw more light in his eyes than she had in the mansion’s windows. If only a little. “If you’re so fancy-famous-founder, how come you’re alone on the beach tonight?”

.

Nate snorted darkly. “Ah, she makes jokes.” He eyed her sidelong, the muscles in his shoulders loosening as they decided she wasn’t a threat before his brain made the call. “It’s Blackwood Manor, actually,” he corrected with a wry grin. “Blackwood Castle is in the 400s, I don’t recommend the trip.” 

He tried to ignore the unease as he watched her glance back at his house out of the corner of his eye. He’d learned a long time ago that he could wear any number of masks, could pretend to be whoever he believed people wanted him to be. But his house? It was duct tape over bleached white bones if you looked at it long enough. But she was likely too high to take notice of anything more than the imposing figure it cut against the sky. Most people didn’t. 

Barking out a single laugh, he turned his head back to her and arched a brow. “Davenport?” he questioned, voice injected with dry, false reverence. “Of the Rhode Island Davenports?” He took another sip from the bottle. “Shall I curtsy?” His lips twitched in amusement and, strangely enough, didn’t falter at her question. Instead, he twisted the bottom of the bottle into the sand and rested his arms on his pulled up knees. “Because, Rhode Island, my fancy-famous-founding days are so full of famous, fancy, and founding things, that sometimes I like to come out here-- into my backyard-- and enjoy the peace and quiet.” He looked at her pointedly, though if he was being honest with himself (and he wasn’t), he didn’t actually hate the company. “The audacity, right?”

[nateblackwood]

harlow-green​:

Crescent Harbor events always reminded her of that line from the Great Gatsby. And I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.  She noted his words, tucking his small moments of truth away in her pocket, not digging further into them. He only shared enough to peak her interest, but not enough to clue her in on the why’s. Her mind wandered only briefly, as to what it could have meant.

She felt his eyes studying her. Harlow resisted the urge to run her hands over her dress, knowing he’d recognize she noticed his lingering glance. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip, wondering what possibly was running through his mind. Her own dark hues traced the bills floating onto the bar surface, laid out messily above a napkin. Money, for her, was easy to forget when it wasn’t literally thrown in front of her. Her eyes lifted to meet the bartender’s before turning to Nate as he laughed. Six years. Harlow had only been here two months and she already agreed with his sentiment. Too long. 

“Seattle.” He arrived as she left. “I left about 6 years ago, been back for almost two months now.” Harlow didn’t feel like getting into the reasoning for her departure or arrival, though she was sure his curiosity didn’t tingle like hers. Her words came out coated in sugar, not loaded. She watched as their drinks were placed in front of them. Lifting the glass of dark red wine to her lips, her eyes peered over the glass as she sipped. “You wouldn’t want to get out of here, would you?”

.

Two months. Nate almost wanted to ask what that was like, wanted to remember what it had been like for him, before he’d been caught in the tug-of-war between his heart and his head, before he’d been wrecked by the culmination of it, before the rose colored glasses had truly been stripped from him and any hope that he’d ever had of being what he believed his father wanted him to be was nothing but an unachievable dream. Instead, he pressed his lips together tightly and nodded. Perhaps there really was something that called them back to this place, something that kept them all rooted here, unable to truly escape, the gilded bars of a cage with no key. Or maybe that was just him. “Do you have any plans to go back?”

The question was almost immediately forgotten as the drinks were placed before them and Nate tried not to let his relief show as he took the glass in his hand. Her question came halfway through a swallow and it’d been so unexpected that he nearly choked on it. Swallowing hard, he let the question-- the intention behind it-- settle over him as he let his eyes wander the length of her again. 

He imagined saying yes if only to get out of here, to bury the night in someone else, to fill the noise with gasps and sighs instead of the sleepless night that awaited him. It was only as he let himself imagine it that those memories that eluded him like smoke began to take form. Her but younger, him but freer. At a time of before, when he’d just been Nate. Nate without his father’s influence, Nate without Verity. They’d done this before. How had he forgotten? Surprise had him blinking, even as guilt kicked around in his chest at the fact that he hadn’t remembered. He could say yes, he knew. But he was a different person now. People watched him here, some even leaned in a little too close to hear, to whisper into his father’s ear about his indiscretions. And Harlow deserved to be more than just a momentary pause. He sighed, lashes sweeping down to meet his cheeks a moment before he looked at her again. “I... don’t think that’s a good idea. Not because I don’t want to--” he let his eyes travel the elegant lines of her neck, the dip of her collarbone, the shape of her lips. She was beautiful, there was no denying that. He could lose himself in her for a little while, he knew, could finally rid his skin of the last woman he’d touched. The one who might have been his wife by now. But his reasons were the wrong ones and they’d led to nothing but grief in the past, “but I’m--” He sighed. “We just shouldn’t. I shouldn’t.” He was tired of being a mistake and he knew himself enough to know that it was exactly what he’d be. 

[nateblackwood]

astrid-chen​:

This all could have been so much easier if he’d just allowed her to pass and she could be on her way. But no, he had to be an asshole about it, and the joke was on him because she could be an even bigger one… Never one to back down from a challenge, she tilted her head, eyes narrowing as she took him in, deciding whether or not to call his bluff. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re going to do that. Because if you don’t like the idea of me being on your precious little beach, you’re definitely not going to like some cops crawling around on it. The lights, the sirens… That’s definitely going to attract a crowd. And that kinda defeats the whole purpose, doesn’t it? Of having what? A physical landmark to your impotence? What the fuck kind of douchebag owns a private beach?” 

.

“To prove a point? I absolutely would," he leveled, eyes narrowing despite the heat that flooded his face. She wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t going to give her the fucking satisfaction. Confrontation was not something he was unfamiliar with, but he hadn’t been expecting it now or here. He’d blame the heat that licked like flames beneath his skin on the whiskey. His name had been dragged through the mud in the fucking papers, what did he care about following through out of stubborn pride? “What kind of douchebag thinks she’s too good for the public beach? Do you get a little thrill crossing the property line? Sticking it to the man? Ooooh, watch out for this one, she’s a rebel.” Nate rolled his eyes, hands wrapped tightly around the neck of the bottle and taking a long swig. Wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes returned to her. “That about sum it up, James Dean?”

[nateblackwood]

eleanor-walsh​:

It was almost like the man got off on being miserable all the time. As far as Nel could tell, there wasn’t any sign of him shaking it off. Instead, she just matched his sigh and pulled her legs in closer to her chest. The skin on her legs was bare, the sweatshirt she was wearing settled overtop of them before she turned her head towards the man.

“Yeah, bitter,” It was almost like every time that she had spent with Nate, the man had been in some sort of angry episode. This didn’t feel unusual to Nel, however, and while she knew that the toxicity could become a bit much, she wasn’t going to back down from him. It was all an act, after all. “Is it a bit, Nate?” She questioned, her head tilting to the side a little bit as she pretended to ponder the everlasting question, one that even Socrates didn’t have an answer to. “I don’t think it is, considering your dad is rich as shit, and you are kind of a spoiled brat,” A dry laugh escaped her lips, leaving a bit of silence between them. 

“I was out on a night stroll to see who I’d run into, and I found you. You’re the winner. Now give me ten grand.” The attempt to make the man give the smallest amount of smile that she could find, her substances starting to race through her as she tried her best to separate the sound of the ocean from her own thoughts. “I’ll even flash my tits if you smile just a little bit. The pout bit is getting tired, don’t you think?” 

.

With his gaze still transfixed on the water, Nate rolled his eyes. He watched the waves roll in instead, thinking perhaps if he just ignored her, she’d go away. The air punched out of him in another sigh when she spoke again, making it clear she was not, in fact, on her way out. His head reared back to her, jaw tight with annoyance, though the normal rage that normally rose to meet him was nowhere to be found. Maybe he was growing numb to the sword that was any mention of his father.

Or perhaps it was the half-empty bottle sitting beside him.

“You don’t even know me,” he pointed out after a moment. He’d intended for the words to be harsh, to further encompass just how little he wanted to be doing this with her, but they were quiet instead. So quiet that when she spoke again, he let out a small, stuttered laugh. His mind traveled back to that bar, to that offer made at a time when he still felt like he was winning this war against his father. 

“Have your prices gone up?” he asked, brows raised infinitesimally. Was he making a joke? He snorted when she threw his own words back at him and he leaned back on his palms, head tilted towards the sky. Thick gray clouds threatened to blot out the stars and he tipped his chin back in her direction. “You ever thought that maybe this is just my face?”

[nateblackwood]

leslie-bowman​:

.

If there was one thing about Leslie’s life that was fucking consistent anymore, it was her dislike of Nate. No matter where she was in her career, or lack thereof, the disdain she felt for him had been a baseline for her of sorts, however muted it was at times. Now, however, she didn’t feel it. It wasn’t the opposite – she did not like him – but she was confident that she would have had to fight the urge to upend the bottle of vodka over his head a few months ago, and she was confident she would have lost that battle. Something shifted. Everything was fucking shifting. 

She let out a scoffed laugh at his idea of her giving a toast, and she wondered if that was something she would have done a few months ago, too. “I don’t need to give one of the brides another reason to think she’s better than me,” Leslie replied. “But it would be fucking funny.” She hesitated at his proposal, biting the inside of her cheek as her eyes instinctively followed his gesture to the party. For a moment, she wanted to say no, and not because she didn’t want to spend time with Nate – she was surprisingly indifferent about that – but because of Ryder. She could picture his reaction to seeing her and Nate together. A few months ago, that would have been enough for her to say no. 

She was sort of fucking sick of dwelling on the different versions of herself.

“Yes,” she replied before she could stop herself. She pushed herself off the wall, stumbling with lack of balance, and pointed towards outside as if that was what she had been doing with her limbs instead of losing control for a moment. She held a finger to her lips as she slipped outside, her eyes scanning the surroundings for a beat before she rounded a corner away from the other smokers. “If you see my boyfriend, fuckin’ shove me down this hill,” she hissed, on the off chance that someone who cared would overhear. She laughed slightly at her paranoia. “He doesn’t know I’m here yet.”

.

Nate’s lips pulled down at the corners in an attempt to stifle the amusement that threatened to creep across his face. He wondered which bride it was that she meant, but he didn’t care enough to ask. Instead, he tensed, anticipating a vehement denial to his offer, perhaps even some slew of sharpened words hurled in his direction for good measure.

But it never came. She accepted instead. 

Nate’s steps faltered a moment, surprise clear in the raise of his brows. She was obviously drunk-- if it hadn’t been for the lack of balance, then the willingness to spend any kind of time with him would have tipped him off. But he wasn’t going to complain, because, while he would never admit it out loud, it was actually kind of nice. For better or for worse, Leslie knew him, and he thought he was beginning to understand her. Kind of. And in a room full of people who looked upon him and saw whatever mask he chose to don in that moment, it was like a breath of... mostly fresh air.

Her words drew a small snort from him, brows raising in amused confusion. “I mean, I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. But you made it through the entire ceremony and this far into the reception, and you’ve managed to avoid him this entire time?” He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, fingers hovering over the joint he’d forgotten he’d brought with him. It’d been an in-case-of-emergency kind of thing, a last resort to calm his nerves in this crowd. He tapped his finger against the box for a moment, considering, and pulled it out in lieu of a cigarette. He held the box open in her direction, his gaze lingering as he tried to fit the few pieces she’d given him into some semblance of an explanation for her strange mood. He thought maybe there was something more to the avoiding-the-boyfriend thing, but maybe that was just the conversation he’d had earlier with Lily sticking its nose where it didn’t belong. “What kind of weird foreplay hide-and-seek shit is that? I thought weddings were supposed to bring people together or whatever.”

[nateblackwood]

dustinemmerson​:

.

A favor. Dustin fixed the man with an unimpressed look, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t know Nate, but between the hair and the apparent self-loathing he seemed quite akin an angsty teenager stuck in a man’s body. Brushing a hand through her hair with a long sigh, Dustin paused, lips pursed together as she processed what Nate was saying. “Okay, Fall Out Boy, just because you hate yourself doesn’t mean that everyone else has to. Yes, she’s forgiving to a fault and kind and caring when she probably shouldn’t be, but she’s also an adult that can make her own decisions on what she wants.” Dustin trusted her siblings, wanted to see them spread their wings and grow and take on the world. If they made mistakes (which, she was inclined to believe Nate would be one) they had a full support system around them to help pick them back up. “But, I guess if pushing people away and moping is your thing, keep up the good work.”

.

He’d said the wrong thing. It wasn’t a situation he was particularly unacquainted with, so he recognized the signs immediately. Whatever pause that might have given him (though he wasn’t going to take any of it back) died as she began speaking. His mild amusement hardened, jaw clenching in annoyance. Who was she? She didn’t know him. 

She might have hit uncomfortably close to the truth, but she didn’t know shit. 

“She can make her own decisions,” he agreed tightly. “And so can I. And so did I. But you’re right, I do have a little sister, so I get--” he motioned at the space between them, “--this. So I won’t harp on the fact that she’s also more than capable of fighting her own battles.” He straightened, patting at the ginger ale still soaking through his shirt with forced disinterest. “But the psyche eval was fun. Was it a first one’s free kind of thing or will I be getting a bill in the mail?”

[nateblackwood]

nadiavem​:

.

His laugh felt like a jab, making her frown instantly. She could feel a sting on her cheeks as well as behind her eyes. Who had he ran into this time? Dustin, Tim? Or was he just recalling the time he met Lucy? Nadia couldn’t figure him out and it was probably threatening to drive her crazy sooner or later. While she didn’t want to do this now, not here, she didn’t want to sit there and let him make her feel stupid either. ❛ Can you just stop? ❜ Her jaw clenched at the words she’d produced. ❛ Just fucking stop, you know? ❜ Painted nails dug into the bedspread to her sides as she looked at him. She hadn’t even had that much to drink but enough for her to push out a few profanities, maybe to cover up any instability in her voice. ❛ If you’re not gonna be nice or apologize then sit the hell down and shut up until the receptionist opens the door again. I’m not gonna sit here and be ridiculed for talking to my family about literally anything, including what you said. ‘Cause that shit hurt. Okay? I’m not a robot, Nathaniel. ❜ The receptionist had to realize soon that she hadn’t come down again, right? Inhaling slowly to calm herself, Nadia rolled her eyes paired with a shake of her head. ❛  And I don’t think you really are either even if you act like it. ❜ What was he so afraid of – her? That was ridiculous.

.

The sharpness in Nadia’s voice ceased Nate’s pacing, eyebrows raised infinitesimally in surprise. Her anger shouldn’t have surprised him-- wasn’t it what he’d wanted? to remind her that this was not what she wanted? that he was not what she wanted?-- but it did, anyway. His anger rose to meet hers, jaw clenched as his earlier conversation with her sister came circling back. “Apologize?” he asked, incredulous, lips pulling back from his teeth in a snarl. He chuckled darkly, the sound entirely without humor. “Apologize for what?” 

He knew what, of course. He also knew that there was a lot of other shit she’d just said that he wasn’t going to look too closely at. At least, not right now. But he stood by what he’d told Dustin earlier: he’d done her a favor. 

And he was about to do her another one. 

“Would you have preferred I fucked you and then left you? Because that’s what I would have done. It would have meant nothing to me. So yeah, maybe I hurt your feelings a little bit, but I did you a fucking favor.” He’d gone too far. He knew it, and yet, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Pain and rage mangled his insides, twisted him up until they had grown useless and necrotic. He tried to feel something, tried to reel himself back in. He’d regret this later. But he felt nothing now. “But hey, if that’s all you want from me and you’re feeling a little cheated, there’s a bed right here.”

[nateblackwood]

charlottewrenn​:

.

This was precisely why she didn’t want to see him. It felt odd to hear an apology from someone who so clearly hated her, it unsettled her. Lotta had made an art out of fake politeness, but that also meant she knew how to spot it, and this didn’t feel fake at all. It felt like it was killing him to admit it, and she should’ve enjoyed that. Instead, it left a pit in her stomach. No matter how he’d tried to distract her, there had been a glimpse of something more than the asshole she worked for. 

Making eye contact with him made her uncomfortable, if she was to be completely honest. She felt small. Even as he was apologising, she felt uneasy. For the past two months, she had been so worried about the repercussions of the gala, of what she’d done and how easily it could’ve cost her her job. Still, she nodded, willing to accept it if it meant they could forget about the whole ordeal altogether. “Please don’t let it.” ‘Please’ hadn’t meant to play a part in that sentence. The words were said with the smile of a professional, her grip on the papers tightening. She held them out still, waiting for him to just bloody take them. 

“For what it’s worth-” she began, sighing, “- I am sorry I hit you.” No, she wasn’t. “It was unprofessional and I should have contained my anger better.” Fuck’s sake. 

.

The tension sat between them, thick and rough as an unpolished stone. He didn’t expect an apology to fix anything-- not that there was anything to fix-- but her reaction to it frustrated him. He was used to masks. Hell, he lived in them. He wasn’t even sure at this point if he knew what remained underneath them. Her words and easy acceptance of his was exactly that. A mask. A façade. They boiled down to simple facts: he was her boss’s son and she didn’t want to lose her job. 

His jaw worked as he fought to calm the sudden rush of hot irritation. It burned in his chest, had him coughing out a dark chuckle as his eyes fell from her face to the papers in her hand. It was childish, maybe, that he found he was even a little hurt. He was trying to apologize. He was trying to be sincere. He’d spent his entire life building up walls that he had to demolish and replace brick by brick. And she was lying right to his face. “Don’t--” he said harshly, finally plucking the papers from her outstretched hands with a little force, “fucking do that. You aren’t sorry.” 

His eyes dropped to them, though he saw nothing. He didn’t fucking care what they had to say. It was bullshit. It was all just bullshit. The heat worked its way through his chest until it found the tips of his ears and he wished he hadn’t stabbed out his cigarette. He considered going for the bottle half-buried in the sand beside him, but what he knew of Charlotte now and her past, had his hands curling into fists instead. “I’m not--” He gritted his teeth, petulantly turning his head to the ocean. “I’m not fucking him. Apologize or openly hate me to my face, but be fucking honest about it.”

[nateblackwood]

tyrosales​:

Ty still hated the sea, he hated the otherworldly darkness that lied below the surface. It was strange how one tragic event could change how you view something you used to enjoy once upon a time. Even stranger to live so close to something you feared, and yet here he was at on the sand, canvas and easel next to him as he let the paint dry after having finished. The salt air flared against his nostrils as he took in the scenery. How could something so dangerous and dark be so bewitchingly beautiful. Moonlight cutting through a blanket of inky black with streaks of silver, almost as if the moon was making a path along the surface of the sea.

“Why a very heterosexual hello to you as well,” Ty mused, giving the man a once over before turning back to his work. “I won’t be a bother, and no I’m not lost, I used to sneak here with my moms a lot when I was younger.” A sigh left him, heart aching at the mere mentions of his two mothers. He thought the wound had been healing but it still felt so raw, he didn’t know if it would ever feel different. 

“Not lost, but I’ll be out of your hair soon enough, the name’s Mike, Mike Litoris. Pleasure.”

.

Nate’s eyes rolled, though his annoyance at the interruption softened a little. Ty usually came attached to Anna, but tonight he was alone. Curiosity urged him to look at the painting, the chasm of dark and emptiness within him sure it might find something to understand within the paint strokes on the canvas. Anything to feel understood.

But he didn’t look.

Instead, he flicked the ash from his cigarette and raised his brows. “Is that a legal change? Suits you.”