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nathanknowsitall · 5 months

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Company

Summary: Nathan and you are strangers who end up sharing a hotel room together.

You were checking in way later than you had planned after your flight was canceled, postponed, and every other type of scheduling change that could happen to it did after a storm had disrupted your path.

It was 2 in the morning and you felt utterly miserable as you tiredly dragged your luggage through the lobby of the nice hotel that you were supposed to be sleeping in tonight. Emphasis on supposed to.

Because as soon as you approached the front desk, the concierge tells you that there are no rooms available for tonight.

"I have a reservation for tonight though."

The concierge doesn't even flinch as they repeat the same thing over about there being no rooms.

You pull out your phone and show them your booking.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we must've made a mistake on our end. All of our rooms are filled." The concierge finally motions to the computer, "But I will definitively check your reservations for the rest of the week and comp you for tomorrow."

As they calmly explain this to you, you can feel a part of yourself dying, but you try to remain calm as you look at another customer passing through the lobby.

"Do you know another place I can stay at tonight then?", you ask, yawning your way through your request.

This is when the concierge stiffens and becomes awkward. "Umm...once again, I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I fear there are no other rooms in the area. You know, with the storm and all."

You wanted to cry and scream and throw a tantrum on the floor like you were young again, but you held it together.

"Okay, do you mind if I stay in the lobby then?", you inquired as kindly as you could.

"Sure...", the concierge said unsurely. "Let me just ask my manager really quick," they said as they bolted off towards another room.

You were sure there was some more depressing news awaiting you as you stood there alone in the lobby. Actually, not alone.

"Hi...", the hotel guest you had seen earlier said carefully as he approached you. If you had the mental capacity, you would've said something like, "I don't bite", to ease the obvious tension that he was feeling, but alas, you didn't. Actually, you didn't say anything at all, but he continued nonetheless.

"Umm...I may have overheard your situation when I was passing through and I was wondering if maybe you'd be interested in sharing my room? My manager always books me a room with two beds for me and my two cats, but, if you need it, it's free."

The relief that flooded through you at the offer almost made you cry.

"If it's not too much trouble?", you countered, giving him an out if he needed one.

He smiled kindly back at you. He had an awfully nice smile. A nice smile to compliment a nice man. Fitting.

"No trouble at all. If you're allergic to cats, I have some allergy pills if you need them and I have some cages that they can sleep in."

You laughed impolitely, "You're allergic to cats but you have two of them?"

He blushed, "Oh, no, I'm not allergic, but some of the people I work with are, so I keep them handy."

You genuinely smiled. He actually seemed like a nice guy. A nice looking guy. A nice behaving guy. Maybe it was just that time of night where you were getting so delirious that you were attracted to anything nice a person did, but you could already feel yourself falling in love with this guy. Your crude thoughts were interrupted by the concierge coming back.

"Unfortunately, our manager doesn't want anyone-oh, what do you need, sir?", the concierge said as they turned their attention from you to the man.

"Oh, nothing. But this-what is your name?", he asked you.

"Y/N L/N."

"Y/N L/N is going to be staying in my second bed."

The concierge looked at you concerned, but then shrugged their shoulders.

"Okay, I'll just update Mr. Fielder's room information and you can go. Have a nice night you two."

You rolled your eyes at the way the concierge's tone had made it sound like there was something romantic was going on, because there wasn't. But a tiny part of you sure hoped there would be.

Notes: Hi! I know I haven't posted in a long time, but here is a little blurb for an idea that I had for Nathan Fielder. I just caught up with "The Curse" today and felt motivated to post about him. Let me know what you think! Bye! <3

#nathan fielder #nathan fielder/reader #nathan fielder x reader #tina writes #nathan fielder fanfiction #i've fallen in love with nathan fielder this year #that's the only update i can give to you that matters #fanfiction #fanfic #nathan fielder fic #fic #nathan fielder fanfic

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wrrrenff · 6 months

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Hello!

This is my new blog that I will be using to upload fanfics!! I wanted to make an introduction first just to say hi and let you know who/what I might post about.

You guys can call me sapphire or s. This blog will have fanfics about really anyone that I feel inspired about. Mostly people/characters that I simp for but also there will be crack fics or if you want to request a certain person, I can make that happen.

For the first few fics, I'll be reposting my fics that I've uploaded to archive of our own. Once those have all been posted I can start putting up new works!!

I can't wait for you all to enjoy my work!

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samstclair · 1 year

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Nathan Fielder’s Frenchie

Nathan Fielder X Reader

Anonymous Request - "Hello Sam! Okay, so this might be a bit weird, but I think you're the one that can take this on. I have this fantasy of meeting Nathan in Paris, and we're just Parisian lovers. It is the city of love after all! Could you make that work? Thanks, keep everything up!"

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They say that there are seven wonders of the world, though you don't know exactly who the "they" that said it were, or if Paris, France, is even one of those seven. But in the end it's still something definitely said, it's definitely something you would say...

Or perhaps, would have said.

Of all the things you would've never expected in this wee world, you truly didn't expect to want to leave Paris. Because it's literally Paris.

You've known since you were a wee child that it's a place you were destined to go to - from those shitty Michael's French-inspired decorations almost every girl in middle school had plastered all over her room, to those buttery hollow croissants, striped mime-ass outfits, and red lipstick-stained cigarettes - you always knew Paris was the place for you...

Or was it?

Your experience had been anything but exceptional. You thought you would ditch all your problems behind back home. Oh, how you wrong you were. No hate to the city, but nothing seemed to be going right, it was always one thing after another and another and another and another and another and another.

First of all, you had a layover flight that would stop in London and then Paris, booking it literally the night before. But you underestimated the power of those little pink Barbie Benadryl pills you popped in your little pink Barbie mouth just moments before.

"London, and then Paris," you remember muttering to yourself, smirking, "here I come."

Click. Click.

Flight. Secured.

You then remember falling soundly asleep, thankfully not getting a visit from the Hat Man. Those pills were put to work.

But your dumbass inebriated self actually got a flight to London, Ohio. And you didn't realize this until you landed in that godforsaken state, (shout out Ohio, no hate!).

So that's one. Next, when you finally got to Paris, you got to your empty apartment, which had been advertised online to be a wee bit bigger. Instead, you got the full French experience of living in a replica of Linguini's home from Ratatouille. But where was your rat? Let's be real - you had no friends and you definitely didn't want little rodents around. A girl all alone in Paris? Oh no.

You moved pretty impulsively, deciding to spend your student loans on the trip rather than going back to school, which you were inadvertently dropped from for not showing up for an entire semester. Oops your alarm didn't work, who cares. Last you heard, something or someone called the "IRS" was at your apartment door? You weren't sure what that was, at first you thought it stood for "It's Ronnie and Sam" and that Jersey Shore was initially at your doorstep, but it wasn't. In a way you were glad, Ronnie and Sam were NOT something needed to come back.

Anyway it was something about applying for scholarships that you were well not qualified for, that they wanted to see you for. Apparently you committed 'fraud' by opening a GoFundMe for your supposed 're-contractment of the Bubonic plague'? You weren't sure, it was a lot of adult words being thrown around, too much for your little brain to comprehend, and to be quite honest, it's all in the past now. Those $30,000 that you were able to raise was all yours now, and now out of your old country, there's nothing they can do about it now. If this was the medieval times, that GoFundMe could've saved billions of lives. Plus, fraud probably doesn't even exist in France. So if you look at it that way, where's all the harm in that?

After leaving your apartment to get some of that croissant, you felt a deep craving, an itch, for yogurt. You weren't sure what it was, there was nothing around you that had anything remotely to do with yogurt, but you just needed it. It was something needed. You felt your heart race at the thought, mouth watering and beads of sweat dripping down, forming a puddle at your feet.

"Mommy. Wants. Her. Oui. Yogurt." you thought.

But alas, for it being French yogurt, every store employee looked at you like it was Covid all over again and you just coughed in their face - horrified. None of them had it.

"What's a girl gotta do to get some Oui yogurt around here, God!" you screamed at the French man. You then stomped out, ground shaking, searched for a curb not littered with cigarettes, found one and sat.

You looked around, trying to take advantage of the ambience like one of those four hour long YouTube videos.

But you realized - this isn't Paris. This is just some recreation of Epcot's France. No smell of baguettes in the air, no mimes harassing you in their silence, no escargot sliding along the pavement, no women wearing berets - nothing.

You felt water well up in your eyes, your head falling between your knees in defeat. Nothing was going as you planned, and you'd only been here for less than two hours. What more could go wrong? You picked up an old, squashed cigarette beside you. You placed it between your lips, trying to envision yourself as the Parisian you always wanted to be...

"Se vu me plah gyasoh pwezi cha que son gee."

You jumped up at the voice behind you, accidentally throwing the cigarette to the street, hitting a bicyclist in the face and causing him to topple over.

It was a man who came to you. A French man. He just spat some French jargon at you and had no idea what the actual fuck he was telling you. He looked a bit concern, and you probably thought he was checking in to see if you were okay. You didn't know how to say no thank you, you're a stranger and this is stranger danger, so you said the only French you knew embarrassingly exceptionally well.

"C'est la vie," you mumbled, through wet boogers and wet tears.

You rose up, as if those words brought a new life into you, and left. He stood there, still worried, watching you walk away.

But you weren't walking for long.

It was late. A little too late. You couldn't read French time but it was dark so that meant it was late. You needed to get back soon, so you did what you knew best, next to those three little words in French: you ran.

You started running, the most you ever ran you just ran. The tears morphed into sweat and your limbs began to ache not long after a couple blocks. The wind rushed past your eyes and it was so cold it began to make your nose numb. Fuck this running shit - you needed a taxi.

You called and called, waved down and waved down, but no yellow car would stop.

"What's a girl gotta do to get a cab around here?" you screamed again, this time at a pigeon. He didn't respond. "What's a girl gotta do to be a mere femme fatale?!"

And just like that, as if the pigeon was a genie, one finally appeared.

A loud, deafening screech came from your right. You whipped your head over, giving yourself whiplash.

Screeeeeeeeeeech.

While making a sharp, extremely dangerous turn at the corner, a busted yellow taxi hauled ass over to you and pulled over to the side of the pavement right where you stood, blocking traffic.

"Oh my god yes, finally!" you exclaimed, running around back to the back seat and plopping your booty in. Once the door slammed behind you, you were off.

You felt your body slump deeper into the chair, succumbing to the comfort and warmth. Before you knew it, you nearly strangled yourself from the seatbelt forming something like a noose around your neck because you went down so low. You sprung back up.

"No way I'm dying in Paris", you thought. You wondered if Jay-Z and K*nye would write about who was in Paris then if that happened.

The driver pulled up to a less busy corner, put that baby in park, and looked back to face you, hand behind the passenger's seat headrest.

"Where we off to, pretty lady?" he asked.

You looked out the window, admiring the view. It was a trash can overfilled with trash, little Remys and Emiles scattering around. Though not traditionally visually appealing, there was something quite coquette Pinterest about it.

"Home." you said. "I'm going home."

You turned to face him after delivering that femme fatale line, but all the femme fatale dropped out of your system like the opposite of constipation when you're shitting - it's Nathan fucking Fielder.

"Oh my god, aren't you Nathan Fielder?"

His face dropped so fast it was inhuman. He whipped around back facing forward like a dog who got caught eating toilet paper.

"No," he said lowly. He cleared his throat. "Erm, no." he then said more confidently, with a strange accent attached. "No, I am, um, I am jus taxi drive, no field. I, um, I eatta the baguette."

His accent was a mixture of Borat, Jacques from Finding Nemo, and just an overall shitty (and maybe offensive) Italian impression put together.

"No way that's what a French sounds like talking English", you thought. But, not wanting to be rude and offend the man's impersonation skills, you stayed quiet. This isn't America's Got Talent, and you're not Randy or Simon.

"Why are you working in a taxi? Why are you in Paris?" you asked as he started driving. "Wait, is this Rehearsal? Am I on the Rehearsal? Is this the 'IRS' trying to do a rehearsal with me?" you asked, butterflies filling up in your stomach at the thought. You began scoping out the car for any cameras, but instead you looked slightly mentally deranged with a big frightening Joker smile on your face and your head clocking it in different directions.

"I sorry, I don know who dis, dis Natan Field is, no? Um, c'est la vie? I'm just happy to be in Pari!" he chuckled nervously. His driving became more erratic as well as his breathing.

"Oh my god that like rhymed you should be a poet." you complimented. Your mother always told you, honesty is the best policy. Except for his impersonations that was dog shit.

He began to slouch in his seat, an attempt for you not to identify him. Every time you looked over, he got lower and lower. You didn't want to say anything, you felt it best to mind your own business. It wasn't long until he eventually stopped and stood up straight as he almost got into several mini collisions because he couldn't see over the wheel.

"So how long have you been working in a taxi?"

"Look, I'm gonna be honest with you," he said, now speaking with a regular English accent, "I am Nathan Fielder. I'm sorry I lied, I just don't want people knowing who I am. That's why I moved to Pari, because French people aren't that funny so they wouldn't know me, you know what I'm saying?"

"Of course, Nathan," you said, "I understand. I understand completely. Did HBO fire you?"

He didn't reply for some time. That some time went on for about forty minutes.

"They did. But I don't want to talk about it."

You were nearly in your REM stage when he finally answered, forcing your eyes awake. You forgot what you asked, and didn't realize how far you ran from your apartment as you two were still driving.

"So do you know any fun facts?" you asked, attempting to keep the conversation flowing.

"I do, actually!" he said, an excited smile growing on his face. He seemed to be bottling this in for some time, waiting for a person to ask. "Did you know OJ Simpson was nicknamed 'Stinky' in prison?"

"No I didn't. Where are you from?"

"Vancouver. British Columbia." he answered.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry about the Queen. She was a queen," you said.

"Do you know this song? It's one of my favorites," Nathan asked, seemingly intentionally ignoring what you just said. He turned the radio up, and familiar whistles echoed through the car. It was Moves Like Jagger by Maroon 5. "I love this song, it just brings out a boogie in me that I've never experienced in my lifetime before."

"I actually don't like this song, can you shut it off?" you said. His excited face dropped, and he turned off the radio at your command.

Your eyes began to close again, but you couldn't help but feel another set of them on you. Something was watching, and it wasn't Nathan - he's watching the road, being a safe driver - no something was watching you. You crank your head over just a bit, still hurting from the whiplash from the screeeeeching. Your brain couldn't process what was in the seat beside you.

"Are those...." you gulped.

One was all white, had blue beady eyes, a yellow beak, and a long tail that went all the way down to the floor, cosplaying as the Pope.

Another was all black, had purple beady eyes, a yellow beak, piercings and a large pentagram necklace on its chest.

Another was modded out to look like a giant moth, like a final boss in some World of Warcraft shit, head too small for its torso that seemed to resemble the size of a medium-sized dog.

Another was covered and smothered in cold baked beans. It also had a yellow beak.

Another was also all black but eyes blood red, still with a yellow beak.

Another was molded into the body of a centipede, crawling all over the interior of the car.

And lastly, perhaps most disturbing, were two that had been sewed together to resemble conjoined twins.

You gulped again. Your body was in shock, immovable. You would've rather seen the Hat Man.

"Sweet furb collection." you were able to muster up.

"Ahh, yes, my customized furby collection! No ones noticed, you're the first!"

You weren't sure how that was possible. The only way of that being the case was if one of the customers he drove was blind.

"How have they not noticed? They take up the entire back row?" Before you knew it, you were pushing some extra furbies with your feet as they had taken up and overflowed the entire floor, pushing against you.

All their heads were facing you - their beady eyes making you the center of their attention, their world...

There was an uncanny valley vibe to them that made you want to incinerate them. It brought a sense of violence in you that you had never experienced before. They were unnatural and made you queasy.

"I don't know, they just don't. They've never complimented me. You know, they're hard to come by, especially the custom ones. During World War II, the Germans stole them, you know, it wasn't just those paintings they took, but they don't teach you that in history. They don't want you to know the truth,"

As he began rambling on about the seizing and burning of the historical documents on the Great Furby Siege of 1942, the staring contest between you and the modded out robots became intensified. Eventually, your ears started to ring. Those balls of sweat returned. Your hands got clammy and your chest started to hurt.

There was a presence to them, something that made them force your eyes onto them. They had the full authority of that back seat, and you were the next contender to challenge them. They dared you to keep staring, but you had no choice. Their magnetic forces and gravitational pulls towards their direction was too powerful. Your fight or flight mode was now on full activation.

"..And so that's how German officials actually got the baked beans one to be made, apparently they were a big fan of that cuisine, but weren't a big fan when they had to auction them off to pay reparations to all the countries they destroyed. Personally, I'm not a fan of baked beans, but I still needed to buy it. I mean, how could you not? Look at the little thing!"

Nathan turned over to you several times, looking for validation. But he hadn't realized that you were currently locked in a battle with the furbies.

Finally, from after what seemed like hours, Nathan pulled over to your apartment building. He fully turned to you, concerned like that French man.

"Hey, you don't look so good," he said. You didn't. You looked like you had just gone through a withdrawal.

Safe to say, you were able to break free from the chains of those furbies. You rubbed your eyes so hard you saw those little purple and pink stars. Your consciousness was regained.

"I'm sorry," you said. "They're just, they're just like, really strong."

He laughed anxiously. "Hey, do you mind if," he spoke lowly, "do you mind if I get some food from your apartment? I spent my last three hundred dollars on this furby from Russia, it's supposed to be RuPaul themed. I'm really hungry."

"Yeah sure, I actually didn't have any money on me to pay for the fare, so I guess me feeding you will call it even?"

"It's even." He smiled, extending his hand for you to shake. You wanted to, but your hands were too moist and clammy. You couldn't embarrass yourself in front of him by touching him with the state your hands were in. Gross.

"Um, uh, I don't know how to shake hands," you spat. "Anyway, let's go!"

You climbed out of the car and ran into your apartment. He did the same, sprinting.

You two finally got to your wee teeny apartment.

"Wow, this is pretty spacious," he said, looking around in awe.

"What do you mean, are you blind?" you asked.

"No, I can see pretty good. What do you have to eat?"

You started to realize that since you just moved, you literally didn't have anything in the fridge, instead hopeful for that crate of Oui yogurt. You checked anyway, as if a charcuterie board would just randomly appear.

You flung that door open and oh my god it's a charcuterie board.

"Perfect!" you thought. Nathan was gonna love you so much.

"Here, voila! That's French for a charcuterie board!"

You plopped it on the table, the only furniture you had. Nathan, without thought, started to rummage through, nibbling away at the cheeses and slices of ham and grapes and salami and olives and crackers. You watched, smiling to yourself all warm inside. Something about taking care and feeding him brought you such a sense of fulfillment, a sense of comfort.

"Is this what Gusteau felt like?" you thought. "Is this what Linguini felt like he when he literally triggered Anton Ego into a revelation he had back thirty years before into his childhood?"

As he made a little nibbling noise as he ate, holding the food with at the top of his little fingers, it resembled to you something of a mouse...

A mouse...

A little rodent...

A rat.

It hit you, hit you so hard you felt yourself light-headed and took a seat on the ground since there were no chairs in your empty apartment. You felt as if the furbies had casted their demonic spells onto you again.

Nathan was just that. He was your rat, your friend, your Remy.

He was that companion you needed, the little rodent in your life to live out the rest of it in Paris with. Something had finally gone right.

Nibble. Nibble.

He continued to eat, lost in his own world, half the charcuterie board empty.

Nibble. Nibble. Nibble.

You pondered deeper on the thought. If you didn't know this was Nathan Fielder and wasn't already comfortable with him, then getting into a taxi man's taxi and seeing an entourage of furbies would be pretty weird. But since it was Nathan, you weren't weirded out? Despite those customized furbies having a psychological grip on your subconscious and concept of what it was to be a human in control of themselves, they were separate from Nathan. He probably never experienced that from them. Or maybe he did? Maybe he's under their influence, that's why he spent his rent money on a Russian RuPaul? Because those furbies had altered his paradigm shifts. Those paradigms were shifting.

But, never mind that.

The point is, had that been any other person, you would've been alarmed at the niche and fear that commenting on it would result in you getting yourself on some girl's unsolved crime mukbang video on her YouTube channel. But you didn't fear that with Nathan, no, you had to let him embrace it. You had to be his safe space. And God so help you, you would be.

Nibble. Nibble.

"Oh my god, that was delicious, Y/N," Nathan burped, so loud and forceful the empty charcuterie board flew off the table.

"Wait, how'd you know my name was Y/N?" you asked.

"The furbies told me, silly," he laughed, lifting his shirt and rubbing his belly. "I'm so full, that was the best meal I've ever had!"

"I'm glad you liked it, Nathan. You're like my little Remy!"

"Thanks, Y/N! Can I live here?!"

"Of course, Nathan!" You jump up to hug him, he hugs tightly back, he then throws you on the hard floor and you feel his member pressed against your leg. He begins kissing you, his tongue licking your lips for entrance. You let him in. Your tongues fight for dominance but you let him win. He eventually starts going down on you, taking your "Paris, Je t'aime" shirt you got at the Ohio airport off, and starts kissing your labia.

"This...this is a labia" he says.

You lift your legs as he begins to eat you out, his wet breath on your cooter. He holds your foot up and raises himself, ready to press his member intro your entrance. Your eyes are closed, ready to take the boy from British Columbia in. This is it. No furbies, no IRS, no college, nothing - just you and Nathan.

Your new life was about to begin. You were now sure, Nathan was that seventh wonder of the world.

Hope you enjoyed! xoxo, ~Sam St. Clair

#nathan fielder #fanfiction #imagine #paris #parisfrance #france #xreader #nathanforyou #the rehersal #ratatouille #adult themes

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lickiitung · 2 years

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Someone PLEASE write some fanfiction about Nathan fielder x reader

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k8fics · 2 years

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Please please please write more Nathan Fielder fluff bro im dying out here

Assist

summary: headcanon — assistant! reader x nathan fielder (nathan for you era)

rating: PG — nothing bad

- let’s be honest, he probably does not need an assistant.

- but he begged his producers until they finally allowed him to interview a few people for the job.

- sure, he could’ve used an unpaid intern but where’s the fun in that?

- the interviews would be… unusual.

When you walked in, you were greeted by a scrawny guy in a standard office space. You guys shook hands and exchanged names before the actual interview.

“So.. Um, here we help small businesses in unique ways,” He started. His hands waving around manically.

Nathan later explains it’s basically just a mock reality show where he tries unique (outrageous) ways to help businesses and people.

“Do you actually help the companies or…” You trailed off.

“Sometimes.” He stated. “Anyways, you’ll be doing tasks I don’t want to do.”

Then came the boring questions; you’re experience, what you’re like in the work place, if you’re single.

- obviously you got the job, he didn’t have a lot of choices anyway (in his own words).

- you do easy tasks: take notes, post craigslist ads, look for the businesses/people, sometimes you do nathan’s laundry.

- he reads all of your notes or makes you read them out to him.

“Write that down.” He would say.

“Y/N, why did you write that he has a small penis?”

“I think it’s relevant.”

- he likes to lean over you while you’re doing something.

- like you’ll be on your laptop, busy, and he’ll come over and just hover over you for five minutes minimum.

- has you write down all his ideas, even if you told him there’s no way he can legally do that.

- asks you on opinions on things irrelevant to your line of work.

“Be honest, does my shirt match my pants?”

“I really don’t think it matters since it’s a suit ten times too big for you, Nathan.”

- makes you hangout with him; an early breakfast before walking to work together, forces you to come over for “important business” when he just wants someone to talk to, etc.

- brings coffee some days, has you bring coffee the next day.

- drives around with you because he says it’s “more efficient.”

- when he asked you out, he did it in his office. he was leaned over slightly, obviously flustered.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you out for dinner for awhile but I thought there might be a conflict of interests here.” He rambled on until you finally cut him off the answer.

“Sure! Sounds fun.” Things began from there.

- he’ll have you walk with him, his hand resting on your lower back.

- he doesn’t make you do his laundry (alone) anymore.- of course you still do your usual work, but he’s nicer when he orders you around at least.

“Hey, I’m going to need to you pick all of this up for me.” He’d say passing a list of items to you.

You read over the list and paused, “Okay.. I understand the cat food and milk but how am I going to find a five yard tube?”

“I don’t know, they don’t have it at Home Depot or something?”

- he doesn’t really like pda, especially on set.

- he’s okay with it in the office though; he’ll come up behind you while you’re getting something from the break room, makes you take a nap with him on his couch, whatever.

- i just feel like he’s not the type to put his relationship out there in front of everyone.

- writes flirty notes in your notebook when he’s reading your notes over;

“Have a good day :)”

“You looked beautiful today!”

“I wanted to fuck you the entire time” 😵‍💫

—

i want him…. wrote this in my usual style hope it’s okay!

#nathan fielder x reader #nathan fielder fanfic #nathan fielder headcanon #nathan fielder

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k8fics · 2 years

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nathan….

summary: headcanon of bf!nathan fielder bc i need him so bad

rating: PG-13 — a side of nsfw

- giggly gf who thinks her bf is funny x bf who gets blushy hearing her laugh

- when you start laughing at one of his silly little jokes, he just looks at you with a big smile on his face

- he’s just so proud of himself for making you laugh

- memorizes your orders just so he can surprise you with them

- literally adores you and would do anything for you

- which is kind of a problem at some points especially he’s doing things like tying your shoes

- it was a one-time thing but then it became a usual thing when your shoes became untied

- he would notice your shoe is untied, stop both of you in your tracks, bend down, pat his knee, and tie your shoe

- it’s a common occurrence now, you think it’s pretty endearing

- LOVES!!! HOLDING HANDS!! his hands do get sweaty tho (you don’t mind it ofc)

- would definitely smoosh his face into the crook of your neck

- eye contact is very important to him, especially when he goes down on you

- he’s definitely a giver (I JUST KNOW HE IS.)

- loves when you sit on his face…

- ANYWAYS

- SMILES WHILE KISSING!!!

- loves touching your hair; kissing, watching a movie, in the car.. he can’t get enough of it

- has a bunch of pictures and videos of you: stupid selfies of you guys, pictures of you doing daily tasks (cooking, reading a book, etc.), and A LOT of pictures of you playing with his cats

- he adores you with his cats

- wears your sweaters and vice versa

- the type of guy to put on a record and start dancing while inching closer to you

- he asks a lot of questions just bc he wants to hear you talk

- learns new magic tricks just to impress you, even though you’ve told him multiple times he doesn’t have to

- i think he’s more likely to talk it out rather than have an argument

- i feel like you would have to initiate a lot of things with him (not like there’s anything wrong with that)

- he’s a great listener, he could listen to you talk all-day

—

okay this is short but NATHAN FIELDER REVOLUTION! NATHAN FIELDER STANS UNITE!

#i need more fics of the silly man #nathan fielder x reader #headcanon #nathan fielder headcanon #nathan fielder fanfic #nathan fielder #carrying the nathan fielder community on my back rn

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k8fics · 2 years

Note

ok but since nathan is a confirmed nine inch nails fan…can we get a fic based on the song closer 👀

Closer

summary: nathan fielder x reader (nathan’s pov) — based on closer

rating: R — just plot with porn, nathan is a little freak & reader’s kind of detached at first

You let me violate you

You let me desecrate you

You let me penetrate you

You let me complicate you

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I know you told me not to, that you weren’t looking for anything too serious. But how do you expect me not to?

You let me touch you. You let me violate you. That’s all I can think about. You’re all I can think about.

(Help me) I broke apart my insides

(Help me) I’ve got no soul to sell

(Help me) The only thing that works for me

Help me get away from myself

I’ll be honest; I had a little help meeting you. I practiced approaching you for a month after I saw you in that bar, that bar you go to every Friday night. You’d call me creepy if you knew that. That’s fine, I just wanted to be closer to you.

I went there every week just to make the slightest eye contact with you. Until the day you came up to me. Hips swaying, eyes sparkling under the dim lights, and your smile. Holy shit, your smile.

You stepped right in front of my legs, confidence practically oozing off of you. I opened my mouth to greet you but nothing came out. I probably looked like a dying fish, you didn’t seem to care though. God, please help me.

“Hi.” You said. All you said was ‘hi’ and I was about to fall onto my knees right there.

“Hey, I'm Nathan.” I responded quickly, throwing anything I learned in my ‘practice rounds’ out the window.

I wanna fuck you like an animal

I wanna feel you from the inside

I wanna fuck you like an animal

My whole existence is flawed

You get me closer to God

I bought us way too many drinks. Luckily, I was in the right mind to reject your sexual advances. You only got as far as sitting on my lap and kissing me before I had to stop your hand from going down my pants. I wanted it to be real, as real as it could be.

My rejection didn’t seem to stop you though, since you invited me over to your house a few nights later. After us texting every day that week, you had put your number on my phone without me even knowing (or remembering, one of the two).

I panicked. I didn’t know what to wear or if I was supposed to bring over something; flowers, wine, condoms? I had no idea. You were content with the 'all of the above' option.

I was very overdressed considering you were wearing nothing but a long t-shirt and me in a button-up and jeans. I might’ve stared at your legs for a little longer than expected but when my eyes met your face you didn’t seem to mind.

We talked and drank the wine I brought. We were only one glass in before you placed a hand on my leg. I glanced at the hand before looking at you again, this time you were a lot closer than you were before.

You smiled at me, “Is it okay if I touch you?” You said so softly I wouldn’t be able to hear you if I wasn’t focused on your lips.

“Yeah..” I said just as softly. I wanted you so bad. I needed you

Things escalated from there; hungry lips, clashing teeth, hands roaming each others bodies. I was slower than you were with your motions. But God, you were so good. I just pulled you closer to me, as much as I could anyway.

You pulled away from me, I leaned in. “Do you want me?” You asked.

“Yes.” I responded quickly, “I want you.” I kissed you before pulling back, “I want to feel you.” I was becoming desperate at this point.

My validation seemed to work since you went back to kissing me.

You can have my isolation

You can have the hate that it brings

You can have my absence of faith

You can have my everything

It’s like you knew me like the back of your hand. Like you studied me the way I studied you. The way you knew every button to press, every movement calculated.

I was starting to study you more and more. What you liked, what you disliked. The way your hole tightens when my nose hits your clit, how you lean into me when my hands reach your face.

We met up several times after our first meeting, and every time we would have sex. It didn’t matter where we were, you craved it. Though, I probably craved it more.

I will say fucking you on a dirty public sink wasn’t my favorite thing, but you enjoy it. I enjoy the feeling of you squeezing against me, the way you look while being fucked out of your mind, the way you beg when you need it. When you need me.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, “Please, Nathan. Please.” While my cock plunged into your heat, head resting on your shoulder, eyes focused on the scene before me.

I looked up from my position, “Do you want me?” I said, getting my desperation out in the open. You said ‘yes,’ practically grinding on my member. “How bad?” I asked.

You barely took a second to respond, “So bad, baby.” You said, hands reaching behind me to grab my hair. I love when you do that.

I kissed you roughly before breaking away. “Again,” I ordered. You hummed in response, too fucked out to understand a simple task. “Say it again, sweetheart. Say how bad you want me.”

(Help me) Tear down my reason

(Help me) It’s your sex I can smell

(Help me) You make me perfect

Help me become somebody else

You told me you didn’t want anything serious after another night in my bed. I asked if you wanted to stay over, it was late and you were already half asleep after the events that just transpired.

You told me about how you could barely keep a stable relationship. Yet somehow, it made you even more perfect. You shared this information while naked in my bed, playing with my fingers. I often wonder how you could be so perfect.

I’m starting to think you’re making me a better person. Maybe the sex was so good, it made me healthier physically and mentally. I told you I think we would be great together. You laughed but agreed.

Through every forest, above the trees

Within my stomach, scraped off my knees

I drink honey inside your hive

You are the reason to stay alive

My cargo pants moved across the floor as I kneeled in front of you. You tasted like honey, I was just the bear devouring it.

Your nails scratching my scalp as I lick your juices, I was enjoying your reaction. Although, I enjoy all your reactions. You loved the way I made you feel. Obsessed with it even.

We had been seeing each other for five months now. We had talked about being each other’s partners instead of each other’s fuck buddies, which was definitely an upgrade.

You came screaming my name. I looked up at you, smiling proudly as you try to catch your breath. You pulled me up to kiss me. You told me you loved you, our lips barely touching.

I love being closer to you.

idk how to feel.. i’m literally beet red while writing this

#nathan fielder x reader #nathan fielder fanfic #nathan fielder #nathan for you

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