Nate Maloley imagines

limits.

Request: Can you do a Nate fight imagine where Nate is really stressed over music and he yells at Y/N, but it's okay in the end?

"That's not it either."

I heard a complaint followed by some grumbling for about the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes. He was frustrated; everyone in the room could feel it, yet no one was willing to suggest a break. I looked over at Sammy and received a shrug before he nodded towards Nate as if I had to be the one to soften him up. With a huff and a roll of my eyes, I got up from the couch and hesitantly padded over to Nate, carefully placing my hands on his shoulders as I stood behind his seated figure.

"Baby..." I cooed, starting to brush my hands down his arms. His body was tense, and it didn't seem like he'd be letting up any time soon. Without a response, I leaned down and tilted my head to face him. "You've been at this for hours, Nate. Maybe a little break will help. We can hit up Panera Bread or something then come back?"

His large hands rubbed feverishly at his face as he shrugged my hands off him, shaking his head. "No, I need to get this shit done tonight. The deadline's on Monday, and we're not even halfway done!" He spoke sharply, not even bothering to look away from the scribbles of lyrics in front of him. Once again, I looked over at Sammy for some support, but all he did was shrug like before.

Seeing that the soft and careful way wasn't working, I finally settled for a different approach. I walked around to stand in front of him and promptly took his phone and the notepad out of his hands, placing them on the table. With a firm grip, I took hold of one of his hands and attempted to pull him up. "Alright, Nate, I understand that there are due dates and you wanna get this music out, but–"

"Will you fuckin' quit it?" He snapped, yanking away from my grip with a stern expression plastered on his features. His harsh force mixed with that tone caught me a little off guard. "I said I need to finish the song, and we ain't gonna get anything done with your goddamn nagging ass in my ear the whole time."

"I'm just trying to help–"

"Well you're not! All you're doing is distracting me and making the situation worse! Life's not just some game, Y/N. Some of us have actual work and goals to meet. We can't just sit around and do nothing with our lives, like you do." Ouch. I had to admit, that stung a little, but I was getting heated up and the adrenaline prevented me from focusing too hard on the fact.

"What the fuck are you talking about? I have a job and things to do like everybody else in this room, but instead I'm here supporting you because you're my boyfriend!"

"Maybe I don't fuckin' want you here! Ever thought of that?"

"Whoa– Okaaay, so how 'bout that Panera Bread?" Sammy cut in, standing up and gently taking hold of my forearm. "Come on, Y/N." At that point, I no longer had anything else to say. I thought I was being a good girlfriend by coming to the studio and watching Nate do his thing, but apparently even that was too much. Pursing my lips, I turned and grabbed my satchel before walking with Sammy out of the studio.

As Sammy and I sat at the table outside of Panera, all I could do was stare at my drink, too upset to really do anything. Nate's words were constantly running through my mind, and no matter what I tried to distract myself with, his voice managed to break through.

"Hey, come on, Y/N. Don't fret too much about it. You know he didn't mean that shit; he's just got a lot in his head right now," advised Sam. I just shrugged, because I knew how Nate was feeling, but that didn't make it sting any less. I was a big girl, and I've certainly heard much worse from other people. It was just particularly difficult to receive such harsh words from someone I cared a lot about.

We spent at least another hour just sitting and talking at the table, giving time for Nate to cool off and me to feel better. I admit, it was refreshing to have Sam reassure me, but I was nervous to get back to the studio. I didn't know how Nate would be feeling or if he'd even wanna see me at all. As we were walking back to the building, I suddenly lagged behind Sam, nerves getting the best of me. He just shot me an encouraging smile before opening the door and walking in with me. The room was quiet, and it didn't look any different from when we left – except that Nate was now pacing. It wasn't until the door closed that he looked up, noticing our presence. For a moment, I wanted to turn back and wait in the car until they were finished. But Nate's gaze had a strong hold on me, and my body suddenly decided to forget all its functions.

I gulped, and finally willed myself to take a few steps further into the room. "How– How's the song going?" I mumbled dryly, glancing at the empty recording booth rather than at Nate. I was prepared for another spiel about how it hasn't even been that long since I last asked, but instead I was greeted with familiar strong arms around me.

"Fuck the song." I heard Nate's voice near my ear, and I was too stunned to figure out how to respond. "I'm sorry about earlier, lil' mama. I was hella stressin', and–"

"I know." I said quietly, slowly returning the embrace as I nuzzled my face into his chest. "It's okay. I'm sorry for being a bother."

"You weren't bothering me, and I do want you here, alright? Look– I even scrapped together a lil' somethin'-somethin' for you while you guys were gone." He pulled out of the hug but kept his arm around my shoulders as he brought me towards the soundboard. He pressed a few buttons and the new song began blaring through the room. It was impossible not to smile then. I'd gone from being a distraction to being his muse within one hour. As the song came to an end, I giggled and hugged him once again.

"So, you gonna mention me in your thank you speech when this wins a Grammy?" I teased, smiling up at him. He mirrored my smile, giving a shrug as as he chuckled.

"We'll see."