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80s4life · 9 months

Text

Pawns”

Word Count: 4,522

Status: Requested!

Ask: Pleeeeeaase write more of Cal from titanic. Literally any prompt I’m so hungry😭

Ask #2: Pleasee could we have more cal hockley content, specifically more chapters for "the things I've never done" and even more short stories if you have the time, I love your work 💕 [THANK YOU SM! I WAS STARTING TO GET SELF CONSCIOUS OF MY WORK AGAIN]

Ask #3 will have an attachment to a separate Cal fic as well, so no request will be shown here until that one.

@: Three cutie pie nonnies!

Relationship: Caledon “Cal” Hockley x Female!Reader

Fandom: Titanic 1997

Summary: Thrusted into the roaring 20′s, all you wanted to be was free and outgoing as all the booming women in city. However, your father’s deal with the devil seals your fate in the hands of your advisor and boss, Caledon Hockley; a man who is haunted by memories, stubborn in his ways, and opposed to the newfound strength in the young women of America. You’re a slave at his will in his eyes, yet you’re just as free as the new reformed women in your own. You’re stuck at a standstill in this endless game of chess, but who’s the pawn?

Warnings: forbidden, early 1900′s morals and customs, Reader is a maid, Cal is the head of the house, Post-Titanic sinking, mature language, kinda spicy, PTSD, domestic violence (included in a PTSD episode ONLY), Kind of a Beauty and The Beast AU for inspiration

{gif is not mine, credit goes to @locke-writes}

It was all an act of practicality from the start: your father owed his father money and he had a set of nimble hands to rid himself of.

Nathan Hockley was a millionaire who dealt in the steel tycoon business in Pittsburgh. Your father had a habit of gambling with the wrong people, which had allegedly caused your father to have an uncomfortable run-in with the powerful man. Unable and too stubborn to do so, your father handed you off as a way of reparation for the damage the bastard had caused.

Nathan’s son, Caledon Hockley, was the exact replica of his father. He was cunning, stubborn, powerful and wealthy; a disrupting mixture of facets that could either lift or crush you with a simple snap of a finger. He was dangerous, among many of his other qualities, which made your business in the Hockley’s presence just that much harder.

With the pandemonium that followed the sinking of the Titanic in 1914, the physical and mental effects had taken ahold of Nathan’s deeply treasured and only son, practically keeping him on house arrest until he was “better”. However, to both Nathan and Caledon’s dismay, 6 years had done nothing for his declining health, the reasoning behind why Nathan had administered you into Caledon’s household in the first place.

All of these events have led you up to this point, your suitcase rolling behind you as one of the many maids in the manor lead you up to your room to unpack. You haven’t seen this young and precarious man yet, but something is telling you that you most likely don’t want to. You are soon to be given your list of instructions to follow immediately and precisely; left to your own devices to either stay afloat or drown in the fury of the Hockley men.

Maria, a young maid in her 20′s, around your age, approaches you with a pure and youthful grin, a light blush to her cheeks. Her hair is cut into a cropped bob of black hair with short but soft curls, her lean frame with modest green eyes making her endearing - intoxicating. “You must be Miss Y/L/N?” her cutesy, high pitched voice only adding to her allure and picturesque innocence.

“Yes, that’s me,” you mutter, displaying your hands as if to show yourself off in sarcasm.

“No need to be so glum!” she giggles, bowing her head to catch your eyes and raise your line of sight. “I’m Maria Espinosa, but I’d assume the least you’d want right now is formalities.”

You snort, but let her continue nonetheless.

“I’ve your instructions - written myself, of course!” she smiles brightly; any harder and she might break her face. “As you know, with your appointment into this manor, the rest of the faculty will be let off, per Nathan Hockley’s request. But, don’t fret, the list is simple, short and can last all day without having to pay too much mind. Every Tuesday and Thursday, there will be a grocer that will restock the cabinets, refrigerator, etc. and help you with the cleaning. You are not to touch the east wing and only reside within the west - this will help eliminate the messes to clean and prevent extra exertion-”

“Sorry, if I may be crude, why are we not to go in the east wing?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

“It was...” Maria drifts off, choosing her words lightly, “After the accident in 1914, the east was torn by his own hands. It was once used for balls and such, but after the Titanic,” she whispers the name as if someone might hear her, “Caledon was bedridden and sick, upset, angry, any emotion in the book. He used that wing as a way to let those emotions out.”

You stay silent as you stare at her with morbid curiosity and fear, nodding once before returning your attention to the list. The rest seems easy, not like the job was ever hard to begin with, just an annoyance for better words.

Maria clears her throat, “Anyway, you must make at least two meals a day, mainly breakfast and dinner, both at 8 am and 8 pm. Caledon might decide not to have lunch some days, but if he does, make sure it is brought to him by 12 pm. He doesn’t like tardiness, so as long as you follow the rules as tightly as you can, you won’t be a target. Any questions?”

“No, no. I’d presume you’d want to be heading out?” you smirk at her mischievously and instantly watch as her taut muscles relax.

“Very much so, yes! It’s been forever since I’ve had a moment of freedom.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you shoo her off playfully. This is your family’s mess to clean, the least you can do is let her be free of the shackles that are now passed down and chained to your ankles.

Maria is halfway through the door when she turns to you from the foyer, “I’ll do a monthly checkup to make sure everything is in line, and for a little company in your lonesome, okay?”

You smile gratefully, hands coming up to play with your nails, “Thank you, you’re very kind. Though, I don’t want to be a burden.”

“A burden? You just gave me my freedom!” she exclaims, laughing as she waves a hand. “I’ll be back by the end of the month! Settle in and enjoy the quiet!”

The moment the door slams shut, your shoulders droop heavily. Your eyes scan the spacious mansion with frightening curiosity. You’ve never even remotely been near land such as this, and now that you’re inside, it feels almost too much. You let your hands glide the carved wooden banister as you walk up the huge steps to the second floor, taking a left down a hall.

Your legs carry you down the long corridor, and, as you place your key into the fob, your eyes lay onto the door across from yours: ‘Lord Hockley’ carved neatly on the door. There’s a rustling behind it and footsteps that approach the other side of the door, eliciting you to push the key one click further and dive through the door as quickly and quietly as possible.

You flop onto the bed with a huff, trying to calm the beating of your heart just enough to allow you to unpack and prepare dinner within the course of 3 hours. When your room is finished, you nod in satisfaction, taking a bath in the connected bathroom and changing into a thin, sheer dress before exiting your room and back down the steps to the kitchen.

Finally do you take the time to read the list on your own. It includes very detailed and descriptive instructions, easy nonetheless, of medication usages and what to do with each, meal plans, recipes, a map of which rooms to clean and how to clean each one, and Caledon’s nightly and morning rituals to follow precisely.

Shrugging your shoulders, you roll your neck to release the tension before opening the cookbook up to the recipe designed for today’s date. “Pork roast,” you state alloud, cringing at the echo of your voice being followed by more movement in Hockely’s room.

Your mind roams as your eyes get lost at the sight of the luscious woods out the window, hands deftly whisking away at the pork roast’s grease with the intent of making a nice gravy to coat the dry, but tender pork roast. Shaking your head, you peer down and try to busy yourself with the already settling boredom you’re consumed by.

You can hear the halls creak, the water drip from the faucet, birds chirping outside, the soft sway of the wind, random clicks, ticks, and other noises. You’re destined to go insane.

You jump unexpectedly with the sound of a crash from upstairs. The noise comes from the general direction of Caledon’s room and you all but groan at what the sound indicates - what your being here demands.

Putting the roast of low, you close the lid with a soft click before ascending up the stairs to Caledon’s room. You stand outside the door, hand on your heart, as you try to calm your rapid heartbeat and breathing. This was to come about sooner rather than later, so you should be glad it’s happening now. However, the banging continues within the room and you know that even if you had met him in a few months, the hell that follows him would never be escaped for as long as your father’s debt remains.

Knocking on the hard wooden door, you speak softly, “Lord Hockley? Is everything alright?”

You’re not given an answer, only the sound of something heavy being thrown and falling to the floor.

“Lord Hockey?” you call out again, louder this time. Unsurprised, you are followed by no answer once more. Annoyance creeps into your words a third and final time, “Lord Hockley, I will come in there myself if you do not open this door. Now,” you demand.

Shrugging when no voice calls to you form the other side of the door, your hand twists the doorknob and pushes the door open. You legs carry you only so far before they stutter to a stop just past the door frame.

Just before you, there is a disheveled, sweaty Caledon Hockley, fit from youth and some maturity in his thirties, shirtless. His eyes look crazed, like a madman, as his hands grip a chair at his desk with white knuckles. Around the room, there’s shelves torn down, broken, books in a disarray on the floor. His bedsheets are thrown about with the other chair from his desk propped against the wall in his fury.

You stare wide-eyed, but somehow, not alarmed in the slightest. You were accustomed to this sort of outburst, especially within the hard working men. You saw it in your father - even in your younger brother. “Lord Hockley,” your voice is softer again, all annoyance and anger lost at the door.

His eyes snap up to you, as if he had just noticed your arrival or presence. “What are you doing in here? You are not to barge in a man’s room, that is uncouth for a woman of your age and status. What is wrong with you?”

“Lord Hockley-” you try to start your confession.

“A woman is not to speak up to a man; are you ferel? Are you-?”

You don’t allow him to finish his slandering, “-I am mentally efficient, Lord Hockley, and very aware of my positioning here. However, I did knock, three times to be exact, with no answer. There had been a ruckus in here for about-” you peer up at the clock above his desk, “-an hour and a half now. I came to be of assistance, but if my help is unwanted, I’d happily leave you to your self-pity on your own?”

He has no other emotion present except bewilderment plastered to his face; eyes wide, mouth agape, and at a struggle for words. His fists clench and unclench as his eyes pan down to stare at the floor, appearing deep in thought.

“Lord Hockley, if I may be so bold?” you ask, scanning his body language and searching to find the meaning of this man’s crazed outburst.

“Go ahead,” he mutters, a hand going up to rub some hair from his eyes, still staring at the floor.

“You may confide in me if that means helping your mental health?” you offer. You know this could go one of two ways: either one, he’ll turn you away, suffer alone, and claim that men have no such weaknesses, or two, he’ll let his guard drop and release him from these dark episodes he’s no stranger to. The latter seems rather unlikely.

“I am not mental.”

“I did not say that. I was simply insisting that everyone has a dark place their mind goes to, which is a detriment to a person’s mental health. Let alone someone who is expected to heal quickly and pick up the family business, am I correct?”

Just as you thought you were getting somewhere, Cal’s eyes snap back up to yours with anger, the malicious anger tearing at his body again, “You know nothing of my family’s business and nothing of me. You have no audacity as to even assume or place yourself in my shoes. I should have you thrown out or hanged for your mouth alone. Get out!”

“Just trying to be of service, sir, since I’m at your will!” you smile sickeningly, bowing to him and sliding through the door just as a book is picked up and thrown.

You let out a deep breath of air on the other side of his door, now in the safety of the hallway. Your throat tightens with a soft sob, tears welling in your eyes. You truly feel as a prisoner on death row, hands and ankles encased in heavy metal cuffs; struggling to walk under the watchful gazes and heavy chains slowing you down, keeping you locked in this manor.

You weren’t the perpetrator, you know this, but you were framed to support the guilty with your own naivety and love.

You drag yourself back down to the kitchen to finish the man’s meal with dejection, but still devoted for the greater future - when you no longer have to be a maid in this manor and be free, lost in the world again.

“Lord Hockley?” you call once more at his door, only this time, you’re holding his tray of dinner. “I have your meal, are you decent?”

You hear a muffled ‘Yes’ and proceed through the door cautiously.

It seems he’s settled now, sitting at his desk with notes and papers scattering the floor and desk. He hadn’t cleaned the room, which you suspected you’d have to clean in the near future. However, you notice the bed is drenched in liquid, and when you look back at him, you notice sweat beading at his forehead, a thin sheen of sweat glistening against his skin.

“Lord Hockley?” you call again, stepping closer towards him. He chooses not t answer you, so you press further. “You’re sweating.”

“I’m very well aware of what my body is doing.”

“Are you feeling ill? I can help you if-” you are cut off by his fist meeting the solid oak of the desk.

“I do not need any assistance from the likes of you, nor do I want it,” his voice is stern, scary.

You try not to lose your temper so easily this time, so you give him a kind, tight-lipped smile. “Of course, my lord, you are a man after all. A man is able to take care of himself just fine, though he installs many maids within his manor. Maids like me,” you giggle dryly, “What shall I do instead, since you are able to clean, cook, and much more without the help of the ‘likes of me’?”

Caledon only groans, “Just leave the food here, you are dismissed. I’ll leave my tray for you to clean in the morning.”

“Oh, how kind,” you roll your eyes, scurrying to the door.

“Oh, and Miss, maybe you could find a better countenance and leave your convictions in your pillow when you arise. Wouldn’t want to explain to my father - and yours - as to why you were no longer needed and let go.”

You can hear the sinister smirk in his voice, but you choose to ignore it - for now - and head to bed briskly.

The next two weeks follow you in a similar form. You do as your told, albeit begrudgingly, and get into many of your childish arguments. Your interactions with the man are nasty and violent at times, always finding yourself dodging an object, taking threats, and coming in the next morning asking for more.

More, more, more; you ask for more because there is nothing else to be given. You have to take everything as a grain of salt. You have to because this means your father’s life and yours. If you manage to screw up, and you will, they will not only have your father’s head, but yours for Caledon’s punctured ego.

Though, somewhere within those weeks, you started to care less and less.

“Lord Hockley?” you knock at his door, tray of food in hand. He once more gives you no answer, so you push in.

Greeted by no light in the room, you walk around in the darkness, knowing this room like the back of your palm now. Placing the tray of food on the oak countertop and go to strike a match, lighting the candle on the desk. Going around the room, you light each and every one of them until the room is dimly lit enough to see.

On the bed, you find Caledon, sweat having gotten worse as you’ve noticed he never leaves his room. When you step closer, he is shivering, teeth chattering. Worried, you go to place the back of your hand to his forehead, but quickly draw your hand back when he jerks upright.

“Lord Hockley!” you jump, the ghost of his skin still lingering on the pads of your fingers. “You’re burning up, I need to help assist you now. You’re very ill and the sickness has gone on long enough-”

“No!” his voice rips through you quiet pleas, rattling off the walls.

“But, Lord Hockley-”

“I said ‘No’! I do not want assistance, I am a grown man!”

“’You can take care of yourself’, yeah, yeah, bullshit!” you scream, the frustration, fear, and hurt finally meeting your words as you are blinded by your emotions.

“What did you say?” Caledon looks at you in disbelief.

You cringe as you can guess what is about to take place in mere minutes, but you don’t hold back anymore. “Is your bigotry deafening your hearing or did you hear me call bullshit?”

Shakily, Caledon gets off his bed, his frame towering yours as he glares down at you with pale skin and dark, chocolate brown eyes.

“Your father wouldn’t want you to be sick, knowing that you would have to run his business soon.”

“My father-” Caledon cuts himself off, a hand going to wipe his face. “This has nothing to do with the business.”

“No? Well then, why else would I have to pamper you like a king? Is it because you’re defective?”

Caledon’s pacing now, trying to calm his increasing ragged breathing.

“Or is it because your useless to him? Mentally unstable?” you continue, trying to get a rise out of him.

“You know nothing of his business nor my personal life!” Caledon snaps back to you, anger finally bursting.

As his anger ensues, he takes steps close to you each time, piercing his thick index finger into you chest for emphasis. “You are nothing, you are worthless. I am a wealthy businessman. I am a strong, independent man with power. People would miss me if I were gone!”

“If you’re such a big man, you wouldn’t lock yourself away in your room like a toddler.”

That’s what finally did him in. You pressed a personal button when your short quips finally hit a nerve, testing his masculinity. Before you have time to react, a glass vase is hurled at you. It was a short throw, and was nowhere near your face, however it caught you by surprise and smashed against your hip.

You ignore the pain, though all you wanted to do was bury yourself in a hole. You came here to help him, but all you are returning is anger and hurt that is most definitely placed at you.

“You’re sick and it is my job to take care of you, so your father won’t have my ass because his baby boy isn’t okay. It’s my job to make sure you are very well satisfied. It is my job that you get your linens washed, food prepared, room cleaned, and make it my duty that your estate is fully functioning all on my own!” you jab a finger in his direction, placing more distance between your bodies until your back hits his door, his body on the other side of the room behind his desk.

He goes to say more, but you cut him off with more furious blows.

“Though, what isn’t my job is to allow you to threaten me. It isn’t my job to be belittled and yelled at by you. It isn’t my job to allow you to throw objects and whatever anger you have and hurl them at me! That is not my job, nor what I will allow any longer!”

“I never asked you to be here. I didn’t want you here. You forced yourself into my estate to protect your father. You knew what you were getting into just by the public papers alone. You knew what was to be expected and yet you came here anyway. You made a prisoner and a victim of yourself.” Caledon’s gaze does not falter and neither does yours.

“You’re correct, Lord Hockley, I may have known what I was getting myself into. What I didn’t know nor expect was the childish frustration and blatant disregard for human decency. I’ve tried over and over again to be kind, but against your better judgement, you couldn’t allow me to be the person to hold such compassion.”

Your eyes are welling up with tears now as you feel a warm liquid flow down your palm and to the tips of your fingers.

“You do not understand what is bothering me and you never will,” Caledon finally starts to calm himself, the self-pity returning as he recounts lost memories you cannot decipher.

“No, but I have made it abundantly clear that I was here to help assist you. However, you saw it as being weak, so it wasn’t in your cards to even allow me the common courtesy of being a human being. You felt as if I was lying to you.”

“God, you are so annoying,” Caledon groans.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“You know, when you’re silent, I almost like you - wait, are you injured?”

“No!” you yell almost instantaneously.

“Did I do that? Its dripping on the floor, what happened?”

“The glass,” you almost stutter, the atmosphere changing quickly. “The glass shatter and cut some of my hand, I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

“And, you’re ill.”

Caledon sighs, his shoulders slumping. Motioning for you to exit the room, Caledon says nothing as you make a silent pact to clean up.

You are suffering whiplash from the sudden change of emotion and it leaves you on edge, but with the cooling of his mood, it allows the adrenaline and some stiffness to leave you. Confusion overtakes your mind.

Guided into the kitchen, you start to take out numerous medications, searching for something to accommodate his symptoms. Caledon walks up to you quietly, almost afraid to get too close.

You do not say or look at each other, finally finding the right medicine and sliding it to him on the counter before sitting down on one of the bar stools. He sits beside you carefully, taking the medicine.

Taking some gauze and wiping away the cuts with an alcohol wipe, you struggle to wrap your hand. That is, until a warmer, larger one goes to encompass it gently, waiting for an action of opposition to its intentions.

Caledon gaze burns the side of your head before you finally acknowledge him with fear. Softly, he starts, “…Just allow me to help?”

You nod softly as the tears form in your eyes again. Some time passes before you finally work up the nerve to ask, “Why do you do this?”

Caledon looks up from you hand with confusion, which urges you on to elaborate, “Why does your mood change so swiftly, so suddenly?”

Sighing, Caledon gives you a firm look, as if he’s deciding whether to trust you or not - to tell you. “The Titanic,” he starts, “When I survived, I lost almost all of who I was. When I returned home to my father, I was constantly burdened with memories. They would consume me, control me, until I felt like a madman. The only solution was anger. When the anger takes control, there is no longer that burning sadness, guilt, and regret; no hoping I’d done something differently. I couldn’t allow myself to do that because I was no longer that man anymore.”

“It’s scary,” you croak, peering into his eyes.

“It is, but what’s worse is the life I’ve lived after the episodes. My father found me defective, worthless. I will never be able to fully recover, which is bad for business. He locked me away in this estate to stay hidden from prying eyes, bedridden to remain unseen even in this secluded property. I insist on doing the simplest actions myself because it makes me feel as if I’m showing my father I am still capable, just changed.”

You nod slowly as you take in this new information, grateful. The man has finally opened up to you, he’s no longer a stranger in his own home as it seems.

Calmly, Caledon pats your hand, signalling that the wrapping is done. A hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair from your face, resting it on your cheek just afterwards. “I know I’ve hurt you, but please, try to understand me, I’m not asking for your forgiveness... I just wanted you to understand-”

“You don’t need to ask that, I already forgave you a long time ago,” you smile softly, placing one of your hands on his opposing cheek. “We will learn to adapt, just as you have many times before. We are no longer strangers, yeah?”

“Yes,” Caledon smiles with glossy eyes.

“We will work on this together. You are not alone anymore.”

Caledon looks at you with uncertainty.

“I am here, always. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Kissing his forehead softly, you other hand goes to be placed on his shoulder, “Repeat it.”

“I am not alone,” a tear slides down his cheek.

“Not as long as I’m alive,” you smirk, placing a kiss to each of his eyelids.

“Never again,” the both of you say together, lips finally meeting as if to seal the promise the both of you now shared deep in your hearts.

“Never alone.”

#caledon hockley #caledon hockley x reader #caledon hockley imagine #billy zane #billy zane x reader #billy zane imagine #titanic 1997 #titanic x reader #titanic imagine #titanic #cal hockley #cal hockley x reader #cal hockley imagine #1997 #rose dewitt bukater #xreader #female reader

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inkdemonapologist · 4 months

Note

Do you ever think about how Nathan Arch is canonically Joey’s sugar daddy?

YALL HAVE A WILD DEFINITION OF “CANONICALLY” SOMETIMES

What we know (assuming there's no exciting new nathan lore im gonna discover when i read FtB, in which case don't tell me lmao), canonically, is that Nathan gave Joey a lot of advice about starting his company, some more advice while JDS was running and looked over the land for the Bendyland park with him, and that when things got real bad for JDS, Joey wrote to Nathan, hemming and hawing about how he normally definitely wouldn’t do this, to ask for a specific amount of money to help with the bills. We also can assume he’s a little older than Joey, since they were in the military together when Joey was too young to be in the military.

What is not hard AT ALL to read between the lines is that Nathan had a big crush on Joey Drew, source: every footnote in the Illusion of Living, several audiologs in BatDR.

What is certainly possible to believe is that Joey would never mention if Nathan was giving him consistent financial support, and that Nathan would similarly gloss over it, because he likes the image of Joey as a clever self-made man who deserves his success and wants to preserve Joey’s good name.

We actually don’t know if Nathan gave Joey any money, we just know that Joey asked for it, and that everything we know about Nathan suggests he would’ve been happy to help (and everything we know about Joey suggests he would’ve downplayed how much he really needed and thus the studio going under anyway does not mean Nathan ignored the request.) So it’s quite reasonable to suspect he did, but even THAT isn’t canon confirmed.

And, like, not to be That Guy except that this is my blog and I can That Guy to my heart’s content — giving someone money does not make you a sugar daddy. SUGAR DADDY IS A TRANSACTIONAL RELATIONSHIP and gay relations between Joey Drew and Nathan Arch are the realm of headcanon. LIKE, A HEADCANON THAT CAN BE VERY STRONGLY SUPPORTED AND ARGUED FOR, if someone told me "wow joey and nathan DEFINITELY had something going on" I would laugh and agree, but it's an interpretation nonetheless. You could make an equally strong argument that Nathan is closer to what the kids call a simp, praising Joey’s brilliance and helping him with his problems and eagerly paying his bills because of a huge unrequited crush that Joey took advantage of but never returned. There's several ways to read it.

But... I do think a lot about how these two stayed in contact, stayed friends, even though Joey always seemed to be playing a role around Nathan, never quite felt comfortable explaining the things he felt most passionately about. He tells him about Bendyland, but clams up when Nathan doesn’t understand why it matters so much to him. It doesn’t seem like Joey ever tells him about Audrey; even though Nathan can hear the joy in his voice and notes that his old friend sounds more like himself than he has in a long time, he never knows why. Nathan is so so so taken with Joey, but there’s something about Nathan that Joey doesn’t trust.

Interesting that Joey never does brag about Nathan investing in him as proof of his own business acumen, though he doesn’t mind bragging about the investment of a grief-stricken mother who only regarded him as a polite young man. What’s threatening, then, about the idea of Nathan supporting him? It’s interesting the way Nathan is fascinated with every part of him and Joey always holds himself at arm’s length. Interesting how Joey enjoys his company, but gets uncomfortable and changes the subject whenever Nathan regards him, positively, as someone who pulled himself up to success out of nothing. Interesting to compare Nathan to Kyle, the other rich friend of Joey's who gets called a “sugar daddy” by the fandom (despite being younger than Joey), how Joey is uncomfortable when Kyle prods him about his status and tries to take credit for him, and then the way Nathan doesn’t do this but Joey still shies away whenever he hits the edges of those topics. ...It’s almost more interesting if Joey was trying his absolute hardest to avoid Nathan funding him, despite the fact that Nathan was clearly taken with him and probably would have been happy to help. What strings were attached to Kyle that Joey was afraid to find in Nathan?

#sorry i know hes SO minor but kyle has become an integral part of my bendy belief system #ftr I do like the idea that nathan and joey had some Gay Relations and I believe they both genuinely like each other #but I think Joey is also hiding a lot of himself from the more guileless Nathan #even tho Nathan really did love Joey faults and all #i know you have questions you always do #we all write on the walls

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coffeewritesfiction · 4 months

Text

When he leans in, breath hot against the skin, he smells of cigars and whiskey, a cool bitter cologne no one else in town uses. Where he walks, death is not far behind. He holds the city in his palm and sometimes, he squeezes until it bleeds. Arkham’s homegrown villain - even if he doesn’t admit it, he could only come from here. He sits in a leather chair in his fancy suits, his fedora on his desk beside his rows of expensive black pens. He sits in his office with the shades down, with maps on the walls, maps of the city, the county, the country, the world… and maps of places that don’t exist, couldn’t exist. Right? With a face made for Hollywood, a voice born for the talkies, he plans, debating the fates of his enemies, the destiny of his conquests, the birth of new enterprises in the unsteady raw stage of the world. He sees the signs that no one else does. He sees change before it arrives. Little surprises him. When something does, it never has the chance again. He is possessive over his property, most of all the two young souls who dared challenge him, most of all the ghost of the man who got away. He hates, he schemes, maybe, even loves. But he smiles for sure. He smiles and his flesh stretches, strains, as something horrible shifts to the surface. Most cannot identify it, but all can sense it. The inhumanity in this shell of a man. The ancient evil that is of his own design. No, he is not from Arkham, but he has chosen it for his own, and he will damn any who challenges him to fates horrific and unimaginable. No, he is not human, that criminal, that mobster, Nathan O’Tipp, but oh, he loves humanity. He adores them all, and their antfarm of Earth, so, so much.

Tag list, ask to be added or removed:

@slenders1ckn3ss @jacqueswriteblrlibrary @redacted-metallum @actualblanketgremlin @higgs-space @phantomnations @mushabumi @assistantdirector--janson @aldhidbah @sabtael @yourheartonfireblog @jade-island-lives @carnocus @cecuesta @darkhorse-javert @comicgoblinart @lizadomuch @minutiaewriter @izzyspussy @passthebeat-blog-blog @dragonedged-if @andromedaexists @cyanide-latte @suckerpunchfemale @late-to-the-fandom @eldritch-flower @cljordan-imperium @royal1asset-if @pineywitch @fragrant-stars @mynameis40and4 @starry-voids @wubsbian @elbritch-kit @tousled-birdmad-girl @ajdoesthings @pen-for-sword @bee-barnes-author

#writeblr #writeblr community #cthulhu mythos #wip: psi #lovecraft mythos #i know my fellow Mythos fans can tell who this guy is #admittedly he's not being very subtle #wip: yellow window

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tailsbeth-writes · 3 days

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Saw the open tag from @taste-thewaste on this! This took me down memory lane a bit 🥲

How many works do you have on ao3?

What's your total ao3 word count?

138,797

What fandoms do you write for?

Red, White & Royal Blue mostly but I'm happy to write Heartstopper and og Skam.

I've written for Riverdale, Teen Wolf, Skam France, Wtfock, Druck, Skam Italia & Shadowhunters in the past.

Top five fics by kudos:

Digital Love Letters (RWRB)

i try hard to get back inside your arms alive (RWRB) - and particularly insane as I posted this last week! 🥰)

Right Kind of Wrong (Riverdale)

your heart is your masterpiece (RWRB)

a frightening magic I cling to (RWRB)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! They make my day, I screenshot my faves. I also love when someone finds a fic that has lots of chapters & I get a flurry of comments 🤌🏻

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Tricky, I don't usually finish on angst. Echo (Wtfock) follows on from a very horrendous part of the show or Season 5 - Magnus (Skam) never got finished so it's been left in the midst of angst.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them end on a happy note but Love, Henry (RWRB) is probably the happiest.

Do you get hate on fics?

I think there was a little back when I started in Riverdale but I think it more anger on their part for a topic I could have written more sensibly I suppose? I've had critique on fics now but never hate.

Do you write smut?

I've written it one time years ago & it felt weird. I loooove writing foreplay though! But I've not ventured into smut in my current fandoms. That might be something I do though, my bigender Alex fic might go into that if there's sequel.

Craziest crossover:

I've only done one and it was a Riverdale meets Teen Wolf, it was a Christmas special and they had to help reunite Santa with his reindeer. While I haven't watched Riverdale for ages, I'm still really proud of that fic!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, thankfully!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, I'd love that though 😄

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but I'd absolutely love to collab this year, in the RWRB fandom in particular y'all are so talented 🥲

All time favorite ship?

Firstprince (RWRB) probably. Wilmon (Young Royals) is a close second atm, I'd love to write some YR fics soon. I'm still a massive Yousana (Skam) and Davenzi (Druck) shipper too. Oh and Nathan/Annalise/Gabriel (TBSATDH) - can't remember the ship name! That show got cancelled too soon & it was basically like a fix it for the books.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a Teen Wolf reader insert fic with a pregnancy story line that I left on a huge cliffhanger but frustrates me but not enough to motivate to finish it. I also have my Skam season 5 - Magnus fic that I'd love to finish one day but I haven't found the plan I made for it originally.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and character voice I think?

What are your writing weaknesses?

Plotting? I'm good at writing scenes but writing a longer storyline in fanfic is something I struggle with.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

If you can do it, go for it! I wish I could incorporate more Spanish in my RWRB fics but alas I only got French or German at my school, I only stuck with French. Maybe I'll brush up & add some in for Henry (RWRB) or Nick (Heartstopper).

First fandom you wrote in?

Riverdale, I haven't seen it in years 😅

Favorite fic you've written?

i try hard to get back inside your arms alive is the probably the one I'm proudest of and while it isn't finished yet Her Royal Highness is up there cause it combines so many of my favourite things, I'm getting to explore darker topics in some scenes while also putting Henry in drag - fanfic catnip for me quite frankly!

I'm not sure who has done this already but I'll tag folks I want to see answer this: @heysweetheart-writes @candyspandemonium @firenati0n @onthewaytosomewhere @callumsmitchells & of course, open tag 💛

#fanfic writer #ao3 writers #personal #rwrb #red white and royal blue #riverdale #skam #wtfock #teen wolf #heartstopper #tailsbeth writes

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iwanthermidnightz · 9 months

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As Taylor Swift rolled into Los Angeles this week, the frenzy surrounding her record-breaking Eras Tour was already in high gear.

Headlines gushed that she had given $100,000 bonuses to her crew. Politicians asked her to postpone her concerts in solidarity with striking hotel workers. Scalped tickets were going for $3,000 and up. And there were way, way too many friendship bracelets to count.

These days, the center of an otherwise splintered music world can only be Taylor Swift.

The pop superstar’s tour, which is now finishing its initial North American leg with six nights at SoFi Stadium outside Los Angeles, has been a both a business and a cultural juggernaut. Swift’s catalog of generation-defining hits and canny marketing sense have helped her achieve a level of white-hot demand and media saturation not seen since the 1980s heyday of Michael Jackson and Madonna — a dominance that the entertainment business had largely accepted as impossible to replicate in the fragmented 21st century.

“The only thing I can compare it to is the phenomenon of Beatlemania,” said Billy Joel, who attended Swift’s show in Tampa, Fla., with his wife and young daughters.

In a summer of tours by stars like Beyoncé, Bruce Springsteen, Morgan Wallen and Drake, Swift’s stands apart, in numbers and in media noise. Although Swift, 33, and her promoters do not publicly report box-office figures, the trade publication Pollstar estimated that she has been selling about $14 million in tickets each night. By the end of the full world tour, which is booked with 146 stadium dates well into 2024, Swift’s sales could reach $1.4 billion or more — exceeding Elton John’s $939 million for his multiyear farewell tour, the current record-holder.

Swift has now had more No. 1 albums on the Billboard 200 over the course of her career than any other woman, surpassing Barbra Streisand. With the tour lifting Swift’s entire body of work, she has placed 10 albums on that chart this year and is the first living artist since the trumpeter and bandleader Herb Alpert in 1966 to have four titles in the Top 10 at the same time.

“It’s a pretty amazing feat,” Alpert, 88, said in a phone interview. “With the way radio is these days, and the way music is distributed, with streaming, I didn’t think anyone in this era could do it.”

But how did a concert tour become so much more: fodder for gossip columns, the subject of weather reports, a boon for friendship-bracelet beads — the unofficial currency of Swiftie fandom — and the reason nobody could get a hotel room in Cincinnati at the end of June?

“She is the best C.E.O., and best chief marketing officer, in the history of music,” said Nathan Hubbard, a longtime music and ticketing executive who co-hosts a Swift podcast. “She is following people like Bono, Jay-Z and Madonna, who were acutely aware of their brands. But of all of them, Taylor is the first one to be natively online.”

Before Eras, Swift hadn’t been on tour since 2018. And her catalog has grown by seven No. 1 albums since then, fueled in part by three rerecorded “Taylor’s Versions” of her first LPs — a project hailed by Swift’s fans as a crusade to regain control of her music, though it is also an act of revenge after the sale of Swift’s former record label, a move that, she said, “stripped me of my life’s work.”

“Folklore” and “Evermore” expanded her palate into fantastical indie-folk and brought new collaborators into the fold: Aaron Dessner from the band the National and Justin Vernon, a.k.a. Bon Iver, rock-world figures who helped attract new listeners.

The other major tour this year that is enticing fans to book transcontinental flights, and to show up costumed and in rapture, is also by a woman: Beyoncé, 41, whose Renaissance tour is a fantasia of disco and retrofuturism. Like Swift, she is also a trailblazing artist-entrepreneur, maintaining tight control over her career and fostering a rich connection with fans online. Together with Greta Gerwig’s “Barbie,” a critique of the patriarchy told in hot pink, they are signs of powerful women ruling the discourse of pop culture.

But in music, at least, the scale and success of Swift’s tour is without equal. Later this month, after completing 53 shows in the United States, she will kick off an international itinerary of at least 78 more before returning to North America next fall. Beyoncé’s full tour has 56 dates; Springsteen’s, 90. (Recently, Harry Styles wrapped a 173-date tour in arenas and stadiums, grossing about $590 million.)

Outside Arrowhead Stadium in Kansas City, fans posed for selfies and shared their ticketing ordeals. Esmeralda Tinoco and Sami Cytron, 24-year-old former sorority sisters, said they had paid $645 for two seats. A stone’s throw away, Karlee Patrick and Emily DeGruson, both 18 and dressed as a pair in angel/devil costumes after a line in Swift’s “Cruel Summer,” sat “Taylorgating” at the edge of the parking lot; they said they had paid $100 for parking but couldn’t afford tickets.

As Swift’s opening acts finished, the crowd rushed in. Glaser, the comedian, later said that of the eight shows she had been to, her favorites were the ones where she had brought her mother — and converted her to Swiftie fandom.

“Everyone is in love with her,” Glaser said her mom told her after one show in Texas. “Now I get it.”

#simply amazing #she deserves the world #taylor swift #the eras tour

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imyourbratzdoll · 11 months

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Hiiii do you think you could do a Nathan young x an easily flustered reader? Somebody who would easily fall for his charm

hi baby, i'm so sorry for taking so long! I hope you like it, and I apologise for how short it is.

summary - nathan goes out of his way to make you flustered.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You could feel your cheeks heat up as your eyes connected to Nathan’s from across the community centre. You quickly look away and continue to paint the wall in front of you. “Oi, pretty girl!” You ignore him, not wanting him to see how flustered you get from his words alone. Nathan whistles, making his way over to you. “Hey, pretty girl, didn’t ya hear me?” His Irish accent filled your ears, causing you to look at him. “There ya go! Finally got ya attention!” He gives you a cheeky smile, enjoying how flustered you get around him.

“W–what, uh….” You stumble on your words, staring into his pretty eyes.

“Aw! Pretty girl can’t speak!” Nathan smirks, “Do I get ya all flustered, baby? It’s cause I’m so charming, huh?” You giggle, turning your head away.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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ebster777 · 8 months

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The Misfits gang having a full conversation while Nathan's stabbed with a pipe

Why was this so 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

#misfitsedit #misfits #nathan young #robert sheehan #meme #fandom #the umbrella academy

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imsuchagoddamnnerd · 2 months

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*.✧ Requests ✧.*

Status:open

Note

I’ve never in my life used tumblr to post on. I can barely work a cell phone and I’m supposed to be from the more tech savvy generation. I apologize if this looks like shit. If anyone has tips to make it look good that would be real appreciated.

Also. There will eventually be smut on here so if you ain’t matte enough to read it. Just don’t. There will be fluff too but if you’re too young. Don’t read the smut.

When requesting it would be greatly appreciated if you gave a small plot summary/idea or prompt. It makes it easier for me and I feel it makes it more interactive for you all :)

Will do:

Most things including, Fluff, Smut, angst, fantasy, modern, horror(I’ll try), soul mates, oc stuff , x reader, canon x canon. All gender pairings, slashers, monsters, etc.

Will not:

underage characters, incest, pedophilia, homophobia, racism, abuse, scat/urine, infantilism.

Even if something isn’t on this list, I still have a right to decline writing something if it makes me uncomfortable.

✎Fandoms✎

Life is strange

Chloe Price, Rachel Amber, Kate Marsh, Nathan Prescott, Victoria Chase, Warren Graham, Mark Jefferson, Frank Bowers. Sean Diaz, Cassidy, Finn McNamara, Penny. Skip Matthews. Alex Chen, Gabe Chen, Ryan Lucan, Steph Gingrich. Others if requested.

Detroit: Become Human

Connor, Kara, Markus. Hank Anderson, Elijah Kamski, Gavin Reed, Rose Chapman, Josh, Lucy, Luther, Simon, Leo Manfred, North, Perkins, RK900, Ralph.

Fallout 4

Cait, Nick Valentine, Paladin Danse, Robert MacReady, Curie, John Hancock, Deacon, Piper Wright, Preston Garvey, Sturges, Strong.

Resident Evil 8

Alcina Dimitrescu, Karl Heisenberg, Donna Benneviento, Salvatore Moreau.

The Last of Us

Joel Miller, Ellie Williams(pt2), Tommy Miller, Bill(MxM only), Tess, Henry. Haven’t played much of Part 2 yet.

The Walking Dead Game

Lee, Clem(aged up), Kenny, Doug, Carley, Lilly, Ben. Nick, Luke, Bonnie, Jane, Mike. Javier, David, Kate, Eleanor, Tripp, Ava, Paul aka “Jesus”. Louis, Violet, Ruby, Mitch, Marlon, James.

The Walking Dead TV Series

Too many to list. I’ll do the main cast. Any others will be by request.

This is taking a long time. I’m not listing all the characters from here on. Just assume I’ll know them on request. I’ve been working on this for like three hours.

Red Dead Redemption

Legend of Zelda

Botw, Totk, others on request

Stardew Valley

The Hobbit

Pokemon

Avatar(James Cameron)

Avatar(The Last Airbender)

Skyrim

FrostBite, John Doe, etc.

Slashers(Michael Myers, Ghostface, Leatherface, Brahms, etc)

Demon Slayer

Doctor Who

Supernatural

OC Content:

Fantasy(modern or medieval). Zombie apocalypse. Cryptids. I might even do some OC design requests and stuff eventually.

Please I’m begging y’all to request something. Anything. Please. I’m not 100% sure how commenting or whatever works, but please just request anything. Idk how to set up a request button so just commenting works

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ofstarsandvibranium · 1 year

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My You-niverse: Nathan Bateman

Fandom: Oscar Isaac

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x F!Reader

Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.

Warning: allusion to sex, also kinda cheating??

Series Masterlist

Once Nathan is out of the room, you stand from the desk you apparently fell asleep at. You look around and you don't see America anywhere and that worries you...a lot.

You stand, stretching out your arms above your head and let out a groan. Your body is sore. Does this universe's version of you sit at a desk all day?

You look around the room to see it very modern yet plain. There are few knick knacks that you seem to have brought. Pictures of you and your family...well the family you had in this universe. Some little trinkets and artwork here and there. Besides that the room was pretty bare.

You hear the whirring of a blender and you exit the room to follow the sound. When you head towards the kitchen, you see Nathan there. He's blending something into a green mush while eating a banana.

You stare at him while he's scrolling through his phone. This version of Marc is very different than the previous ones you've met. Not only physically, but personality as well.

"The fuck are you staring at?" Nathan mumbles as he sips his smoothie.

You avert your gaze and look around your setting, "Oh, uh, nothing. Just thinking."

Nathan hums, "Well, you can think while you finish that transcript."

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest, "Why're you such an ass?"

Nathan scoffs back, "You act as if this is something new to you."

"It's not. I'm just wondering why you're such an ass."

He snorts, "You don't get anywhere being a softie, sweetheart."

You hum and give a shrug, "I just find it ironic that for a guy trying to create AI with human thoughts and feelings, you sure don't like to have any of them yourself." You turn on your heel and head back to your...office?

Once you shut the door, you sit at the desk and throw your head into your hands, "How the fuck do I get out of here now?"

____________________________

"Y/N?!" America wakes up to see Wong and Stephen by her bedside.

"America, calm down." Stephen says, "You need to rest."

"H-How...?" she looks around and sees she's in her own room at the Avengers Compound, "Am-Am I home?"

Wong nods, "Yes. You somehow ended up back here, but-"

"-but Y/N didn't come back with you. We don't know why, but now we have to find her."

"I want to help! This is my fault, I have to find her. I owe Marc that."

Wong and Stephen shake their heads, "You're too weak. All of that universe traveling took a lot out of you. It's been three days since you've come back and you're just now waking up."

"Three days?!" the young Avenger shouts.

_______________________

You're pacing your room murmuring to yourself, "It's been three days and nothing's happened. I don't know if this is good or bad."

You continue to mumble and pace, not knowing that Nathan was resting against the threshold of your room, watching you. You jolt when he speaks, "What's got your panties in a twist?"

You roll your eyes and turn away from him, "None of your business."

"You need to get fucked. Literally."

You whip your head towards him, eyes wide and jaw to the floor, "Excuse me?!"

Nathan continues to look nonchalant as he doubles down, "You're stressed and worried and it's distracting. I can't get shit done with you like this. You need to loosen up and a good fucking will probably help with that."

You scoff, "In your dreams, Bateman."

"Speaking of dreams, who's this Marc you keep mumbling about in your sleep?"

Your brows shoot up in surprise, "I talk in my sleep?"

"You've done it in the past, but usually nonsense. But not this time. Who's Marc and why are you dreaming about him?"

The questioning makes you nervous for some reason, like it's wrong for you to dream about your husband. Only, he's not your husband, not in this universe anyway.

"No one," you answer, turning away from him, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him.

He stands chest to chest to you as he whispers, "I don't want you dreaming about anyone else, moaning anyone else's name, but mine. Got it?" the look in his eyes are possessive, lust filled. You've seen it before in Marc when you've riled him up. You can't help but shiver at the look. It has the same effect on you as it does with Marc.

Before you could stop yourself, you pull Nathan towards you. Your lips crash onto his and he's walking you backwards to your bed. You fall back, his body on top of yours. It's a familiar feeling. He feels like your husband, looks like your husband, but he's not. And yet, you don't stop yourself as he undresses you and slips inside of you.

______________________

Both Wong and Stephen are using their magic to form a portal. Marc is pacing behind them, "So you two really expect me to just wait here until you come back with Y/N?"

"We don't know to expect, Marc. You just might complicate things further if you come with us."

Marc is silent and then Steven fronts, "What if she needs us? She's probably scared out of her mind." He sighs dejectedly, "We were supposed to protect her and we didn't."

Stephen straightens up and goes over to Steven. He gives the worried man a reassuring pat on the shoulder, "Listen, we'll do everything we can to get her back to your guys. Plus, you should probably talk to America. She thinks you all hate her for what happened."

Steven shakes his head, "It wasn't her fault."

"She thinks it is. Go talk to her. Maybe she can tell you how things went when she was with Y/N."

Steven nods, "Yeah...yeah, alright."

_____________________________

You're naked and alone in bed. You groan to yourself and a heavy feeling fills your chest as soon as Nathan redresses and exits your room. You technically cheated on your husband, but he was a doppleganger of your husband so it doesn't really count, right?

"I'm so ready to go home already," you mumble and stare up at the ceiling, "Please, America, Wong, Stephen...anyone. Please get me back to Marc soon."

You turn onto your side and sigh. Maybe some sleep will help...

_________________________

When you wake, you immediately recognize that you're not in the same universe you fell asleep in.

"Oh what the hell?" you whisper and from the bathroom in walks another Not Marc. He has boxers on and a white undershirt. He tsks, "Now, now Mrs. Cooper. That's no way to talk, hm?" he bends down and kisses your head, "Morning, sweetheart. Why don't you get started on breakfast while I get ready for work hm?"

Oh God...what time period were you in now?

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman imagine #marc spector x reader #marc spector imagine #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #f!reader #female!reader #fem!reader #marvel #marvel au

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nicoroni · 3 months

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This started as me telling @isleofair about my silly fantasy au idea (which is that Kotetsu and Bunny are royals arranged to be married, they're having the absolute Worst Time, but that is all in the background because FireSky are living a romcom with full shoujo vision and Do Not Notice the shenanigans) and then it became... this little ficlet?

@isleofair loved it, so I hope everyone else does as well! :3

Title: FireSky Royalty AU Fandom: Tiger & Bunny Pairing: Keith Goodman/Nathan Seymour Tags: royalty au, ficlet, she/her pronouns for Nathan Seymour, so many background characters

---

Nathan laughs as a man in shining golden armor - aptly named "Golden Ryan" - spins her around the dance floor.

He's surprisingly graceful for someone in a full set of plate - not the decorative armor most people favour for formal events - and she's never been one to turn down a dance. Even if she's fairly certain it's not for her sake, but for that of the Princess of the Blue Rose, who's steely gaze has not left them since Ryan asked for her hand.

The song winds down, the band taking a momentary break, and she allows Ryan to lead her off the dance floor. She ends up with her back to the wall, Ryan's to the dance floor, her hand still in his.

Before he can ask, Nathan assures him, "She's still watching, and I do believe she's at the edge of her patience."

Ryan originally hailed from a kingdom far from here, one that had been left in ruin and had Ryan shunned in disgrace - but he'd made a stunning comeback when he'd rode into the Kingdom of the Blue Rose in his glittering armor, and announced he was to be the Princess' personal knight. (A recommendation from the Kingdom of the Hare surely didn't hurt.)

He grins brightly at Nathan, another piece of him that matches his namesake. "Thank you for your service. I owe you one."

And with a cheeky salute, he saunters back onto the dance floor, spinning several other people - regardless of age or gender - as he makes his way back to his Princess.

Nathan settles into her place, leaning slightly against the wall and enjoying the opportunity to people watch.

The Tiger King and his betrothed, the Hare Prince, are dancing, apparently not noticing the way one song has faded out and is only now transitioning into another. They're nearly nose to nose, moving fluidly together, and seem to be simultaneously arguing.

She hums to herself, watching as they disappear into the crowd of other dancers piling back onto the floor. She will have to keep an eye out for them - the King has been her friend for many years (and ever so briefly, after his beloved wife had passed, he'd been her lover as well) and she wishes the best for him. He certainly has his hands full with this "bunny" as he has taken to calling the Prince.

She spots his young daughter in the crowd, dancing with the Rock Bison - another friend of the King and champion in his own right. Kaede, not yet grown into her title of Tiger Princess, looks youthful and full of joy, exactly as she should. (And if Nathan has to stifle a giggle at the way Bison must bend down to dance with the girl, well, no one is around to hear it.)

She's contemplating what to do next - if perhaps she should find a refreshment, or maybe simply call it a night - when someone in the crowd catches her eye.

He has a head of golden hair - akin to the setting sun, she thinks - topped with a rather unusual gold and silver crown. His ceremonial armor is impractical at best, but she will admit its beautiful as well. The white cape, lined with a deep royal purple, draped over his shoulders would look ridiculous on most people, but she thinks he looks rather dashing.

She recognizes him for who he is - Keith, the King of the Highest Skies, Hero Among Men - before he's even halfway across the room. She would recognize him with her eyes closed, she thinks, simply by the feeling of warmth he brings with him, like being bathed in the light of the sun.

She's no stranger to warmth, being the bearer of the Fire Emblem - as shown by the mark on her bicep - and Champion of Flames herself, but the warmth that follows Keith is different. It radiates from somewhere deep inside him, nourishing everything he comes close to.

The dog at his side, golden as Keith is, in his own ceremonial regalia, would also be a give away. Where King Keith goes, so does Sir John.

Nathan can't help but smile as Keith struggles to reach her, having to stop every few steps to politely decline a dance, or shake a hand, or kiss a baby. It's not right to tease him, she knows, but - and she will admit this to herself if no one else - he's simply too cute for his own good.

He finally reaches her, looking only slightly worse for the wear, with a few hairs out of place and his crown sitting crooked on his head. Sir John sits at their feet, staring up at her with his big brown eyes, his tail wagging almost imperceptibly as he waits to be greeted. He is just as polite as his master, she knows.

"Hello, Your Majesty." She greets, inclining her head just slightly. Perhaps she should curtsy or bow - she's never been quite sure where she ranks in comparison to a King - but Keith has never minded before.

She waits a moment longer, watching as he blushes when she smiles at him, before sinking to her knees to greet John as well. She gets a slobbery tongue across her cheek for her efforts, and the delighted laugh she lets out is the most genuine one of the night.

When she stands again, Keith has squared his shoulders, and is looking at her rather intensely. She wonders if he knows his crown is still crooked.

"Your Majesty?" She prompts, and he lets out a breath in a whoosh of air she feels against her face.

"Just Keith, please."

She smiles again, and reaches out to straighten his crown. Impertinent, perhaps, but it makes Keith's blush rise up to his ears and that makes it worth it.

"Keith." She says, very softly, and his gaze goes soft and liquid. Not for the first time, she thinks about how much he reminds her of the sky, how she sometimes imagines she could fall into his eyes and simply float there. He even carries the scent of fresh spring air with him wherever he goes, no matter the time of year.

"Nathan." He answers, very softly, sounding so terribly besotted that Nathan thinks /she/ may actually blush.

He catches her hand between both of his as she drops it from his crown, and she suddenly longs to feel his skin against hers, without the barrier of his gloves between them.

Keith takes a deep breath, steeling himself again - she sees the way his eyes harden, just slightly, no hint of cruelty there, but determined resolve.

"May I have this dance?"

---

Keith stands on the outskirts of the party, wishing he could fade into the background like Ivan so often does. It's not that he doesn't love his people - of course he loves his people! He loves all people, really - it's just that he hasn't had a moment to himself all day - not unusual, but distressing to him on today of all days - and he really, really needs some time alone.

Well, not alone, exactly.

He watches as Nathan spins around the dance floor, absolutely radiant under the enchanted lighting. Not even her dance partner, the famous Golden Ryan, in armor as bright as his namesake suggests, could possibly outshine her. To Keith, she feels like a lighthouse, a beacon of warmth and safety as he's jostled by the waves of a crowd of strangers. When she smiles, he feels as though he's looking into the very heart of a fire - beautiful and powerful - but with no fear of getting burned.

She looks wonderful every day, of course, but seeing her in something so formal for this celebration is a rare treat. (And speaking of the celebration, King Kotetsu and Prince Barnaby seem to be getting along very well, today - dancing slow and close amongst the rest of the court. It's a nice change, Keith thinks, from the way they'd been arguing only a few days prior.)

Nathan's dark skirt, worn over a pair of striking pink pants, twirls with her as she moves - the red and orange and gold sequins along it's edge sparkle as they catch the light. He can't hear over the noise of the party, but he can imagine the sound her boots make on the marble floor - a gentle click-clack that he associates with her presence, now. Her jacket - black, with roses embroidered in a glittering thread - is left open, revealing much more skin than anyone else here would dare. Keith's attention does not linger on the tantalizing glimpse of bare skin, but instead settles on the vibrant pendant resting on the centre of her chest. She had gifted him a similar one, what feels like centuries ago, and he feels it now like it's burning a hole in his chest - he almost wishes it would, that it would burn straight through his shirt and armor and show all the world that his heart belongs to The Fire Emblem, to Nathan.

A sharp tug on the edge of his cape draws his mind back to the present, and he suddenly remembers he's holding someone's baby. He's mortified to realize he has no idea who the baby belongs to. He tries to look subtle as he glances side to side, seeking out a parent waiting for their child to be returned to him.

As always, it's John who saves him from his wandering mind, and when he glances down the dog is pointing with his nose at a nearby couple.

Keith mouths a silent, "Thank you.", before returning the infant to their delighted parents. They don't seem to have noticed Keith's inattention, and if they did, they don't say anything about it.

He's not ready to talk to Nathan after the debacle with the baby.

John is an incredible companion and has quite literally saved Keith's life on occasion, but he hasn't mastered the art of conversation just yet. (He's very good at it, really, but he can't quite make up for Keith's nervous stuttering.)

Nathan makes him stutter nervously on a good day - he hates to think of how much he'll embarrass himself today, when he's already frazzled and she looks so breathtakingly beautiful.

On the other hand, their necklace is still a blazing, heavy weight against his chest - it feels as though it wants to be returned to Nathan as much as Keith himself does.

Once again, John saves him.

Before he can make a decision, John has his cape between his teeth again, tugging insistently. When Keith doesn't immediately follow his lead, John pushes his head against the back of Keith's knee, nudging him in the right direction.

Keith stumbles forward, and John repeats, nudging Keith's opposite knee this time.

"John!" Keith hisses, trying to look like these steps are intentionally and not like he's drunk. He also keeps a pleasant smile plastered on his face, even as his heart beats wildly in his chest, more and more intense with every step toward Nathan.

They're stopped several times on their journey - with invitations to dance, or talk, or hold another baby - but John doesn't allow Keith to linger. If Keith pauses for too long, John nips at his ankles, unprotected by Keith's useless ceremonial armor.

He catches Nathan's eye when he's no more than a few feet away, and a real, genuine smile curls his lips. He cannot help it, when he looks at her. Warmth spreads from his necklace, suffusing his whole body, so comforting and familiar it makes him a little sleepy.

And then he's standing in front of Nathan, looking slightly upward to continue to meet her gaze, and she's smiling at him, too.

"Hello, your majesty." She greets, inclining her head slightly. She doesn't bow, or curtsy, doesn’t lean into any sort of formality at all, really. Just smiles, and watches him for a touch too long.

Keith can't help but blush under her scrutiny - not because he's afraid of judgement, no, but because of the exact opposite. Because when she looks at him, he feels like he's really being seen for the first time in his entire life - at the very least, since the first time he put on his crown.

And then she's kneeling, and for a split second Keith's mind races, frantically trying to understand what she's doing and why she would be on her knees and- And she's greeting John, as she always does, letting him lick her face and laughing so joyfully, so genuinely that it nearly brings tears to Keith's eyes. How she manages to always be so honest is beyond him, but he loves her all the more for it.

He takes a deep breath, to settle his nerves, to convince his racing heart to settle - it doesn’t work - and rolls his shoulders back, standing straight as he can.

Okay, Keith, you can do this.

John leans against his leg, a comforting weight.

"Your Majesty?" Nathan says, leaning in just slightly, studying his face.

Keith realizes he's been holding his breath, and he lets it all at once, an exhalation that ruffles the feathers dangling from Nathan's earrings.

"Just Keith, please." He tells her, for what must be the thousandth time. It doesn’t bother him, that he must always ask one more time, it seems to be a sort of game between them.

She reaches out, and the tension returns to Keith all at once, bracing himself for some sort of touch, as if preparing for an assault. In truth, he fears that even a brush of Nathan's bare skin against his own would be electrifying, and far too much for him to handle.

Instead, she holds his gaze as she adjusts his crown on his head. He feels the hot blush rise up to his ears - not embarrassment, exactly, but a rush at the intimacy of the gesture. No one else would dare to touch his crown, to be so close, to hold eye contact for so long.

"Keith." She breaths, and Keith feels like every inch of him is going to melt into a contented puddle on the floor, so enamored he is by the sound of his name on her lips.

His lips part. He says nothing, only a split second of a pause and then, "Nathan."

The way she looks at him is more magical than any spell or trick he has ever seen. He feels as though he's laying in the sun on a spring day, basking in the first warmth of the year, the remainder of frost melting away.

He takes her hand in his - begrudging and thanking his gloves in equal measure, for the barrier they provide between his skin and hers.

He takes a deep breath. Feels her hand in his. Feels John's weight against his leg. Feels the pendant against his chest - a little piece of her that has swiftly become a little piece of him, entwined with his heart.

She waits, patient as always, and Keith wonders how long she will wait for him. In his heart of hearts, he knows it's forever. He knows, because he would wait an eternity for her.

"May I have this dance?"

-fin-

#tiger & bunny #nathan seymour #keith goodman #firesky #fic #fanfic #for aria :3 #also we have about 10000000 notes about this fic now #because we just kept talking about it lmao #it will probably never be an actual full fic #but I could talk about all the silly details we came up with for ages

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