#this deserves all the love. even when sarah was already familiar with the source-

[jils-things]

Wait a While Longer

this fic is written by my friend, sarah! (@throughpatchesofviolet) it was for a trade we exchanged months back. i asked for a lovely stevaide fic and she delivered! she has given me her permission to repost this story and i'm more than happy to share it. also using this opportunity to read it easily hehehe 💚💜 thank you again!

"Here we are …” Jaide mused, smiling as she crouched beside the oven, patting a small, reptilian Pokémon on the head as she pointed at the pie visible through the window. “See? It’s almost ready, Aron—just a few more minutes.”

The steel-type titled his head, studying the pastry before turning to his companion, blinking up at her with his large, blue eyes.

“In the meantime, how about we clean up?” Jaide suggested, standing up and lightly sidestepping Aron so she could reach the sink, where a mound of dirty dishes awaited her. “Can’t leave the house in disarray, after all.”

Aron huffed, but he trotted after her, sitting obediently at her feet as she turned on the faucet, humming softly to herself as she rinsed the first of many bowls.

As she squirted dish soap onto a cloth, beginning to scrub a large mixing bowl, her thoughts turned towards her husband, Steven. Early that morning, the jangling tone of a phone had roused them both—an urgent call from Steven’s father, who requested Steven make an appearance at an upcoming meeting.

Naturally, Steven had agreed, and had promptly dressed, pressed a soft kiss to his wife’s forehead, and departed, all in the span of a few minutes.

I hope he’s doing alright, Jaide thought, frowning at a stain on the dish she was washing. He left so early … and after working so hard, the night before, too. He must be exhausted …

The buzzing of a timer snapped Jaide from her thoughts, and she dropped the rag and bowl into the sink, spinning around to find Aron had moved to stand in front of the oven. The Pokémon sniffed the air as she approached, drawing another smile from his companion.

“It smells pretty good, doesn’t it?” she asked, grabbing a pair of oven mitts before squatting down beside Aron and opening the oven door, a blast of hot, cinnamon-scented air rushing over them.

Leaning forward, Jaide carefully removed the pie, as Aron grunted in irritation, his eyes narrowing as he crouched behind her, trying to avoid the heat.

Jaide laughed as she rose to her feet, setting the pie on a cooling rack. “I tried to warn you, when we started—the oven gets hot!”

Aron snorted, glaring at her before turning away, visibly irritated.

“Aw, Aron … I’m sorry! I wasn’t laughing at you …” Jaide glanced at the pie, the golden crust shimmering beneath a cloud of steam, then back at Aron. “How about I give you the biggest piece to make up for it? Would you like that?”

The steel-type refused to look at her for a moment longer, then slowly sighed, and Jaide smiled as his large eyes drifted back towards her face.

“Alright—Aron gets the largest piece of pie, tonight. Promise.”

The Pokémon beamed up at her, then snapped to alertness, his gaze darting towards the living room: the soft jangling of keys had grabbed his attention—and Jaide’s, as well.

Aron bolted as the front door creaked open, eager to welcome Steven home, and Jaide sighed, smoothing her dress before stepping into the other room, where her husband was trying not to trip over the tiny Pokémon weaving between his legs.

“… I don’t have anything for you, this time, Aron, I’m sorry!” Steven held out his empty hands to the steel-type, who squinted up at him. “I was in a meeting all day, so I didn’t have time to grab any ore … next time, I promise!”

Aron huffed, then spun around and marched back into the kitchen.

“I don’t think he liked your excuse,” Jaide teased, smiling as she approached Steven, already reaching to help him take off his coat. “How was your meeting, dear? You’re not too tired, are you?”

“No, no … I’m perfectly fine. Not tired—” Steven broke off mid-sentence, yawning, but he quickly stifled it, gently waving Jaide aside. “Not tired at all …”

His wife raised an eyebrow, but she decided to play along. “Alright … how about we sit down? We both could use some rest, after today.”

“Oh?” he frowned as she took his arm, quietly guiding him towards the soda. “What did you get up to …?”

“Well,” Jaide began, patting her husband’s arm as they sank onto the couch cushions. “After you left, I managed to fall back asleep for a few more hours … then I was up to make breakfast for me and Ruby … we had pancakes—the ones where we use fruit to make them look like Pokémon. Ruby managed to make his look just like Fofo …”

“Mm … which form?” Steven mumbled, leaning his head against Jaide’s shoulder.

“It was her Sunny Form,” Jaide replied, smiling as she recalled how carefully Ruby had arranged slices of banana around his pancake that morning. “He took a photo, of course—it was quite cute.

“After that, Ruby told me he was going to hang out with some friends at a Secret Base—though, he wouldn’t tell me where it was … I suppose that’s to keep it a “secret” base, isn’t it?

“Then I was on my own, so I did some housework, ran to the store for groceries, and then Aron and I baked a pie … oh, you should have seen his face when I opened the oven—his eyes scrunched up and he huddled behind me … it was adorable! Although, he was upset about it, so now I owe him a huge slice of pie as an apology.

"And now you’re home, so I can start making …” Jaide trailed off as soft snoring tickled her ears, and she glanced over to see Steven dozing against her shoulder.

Smiling, Jaide gently lowered Steven’s head so it was resting in her lap, chuckling quietly as she brushed his hair from his face, admiring his features.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Steven’s forehead.

I suppose dinner can wait a bit longer, Jaide thought, closing her eyes. Steven needs to rest, and Ruby’s not home, yet, either … besides, I can’t possibly move, now—it’d wake him!

She snuggled into the couch cushions, humming a quiet lullaby as she stroked Steven’s hair.

Yes … dinner can wait just a little longer …

—

“What a day …” Ruby muttered, sighing as he stepped into the living room.

“Ar?”

The boy blinked, looking down to find his mother’s Aron gazing up at him. The Pokémon studied him for a moment, then turned his head, nodding towards the sofa.

Following Aron’s gaze, Ruby found his parents lounging on the couch—his father’s head rested in his mother’s lap. Thought she was sitting upright, he could tell Jaide was fast asleep, her fingers still tangled in Steven’s hair.

He glanced at Aron as he slid his backpack off, kneeling on the floor beside the Pokémon as he rummaged through its contents. “Shall we?” he asked, pulling out a camera.

“Aron!” the Pokémon chirped, beaming at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes!”

Powering the camera on, Ruby focused it on his parents, still snoozing on the sofa, and snapped a quick photo before settling down beside Aron, showing him the picture.

“What do you think? The lighting look okay?”

The steel-type stared at the photograph, then nodded

.

“Great! Then let’s leave them alone—we’ll have plenty of time to tease them with this, later.”

Ruby stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he marched into the kitchen, Aron trotting behind him. He paused when he saw the pie resting on the counter, and the Pokémon grunted, gently headbutting his leg.

“Aroooooon!” he hissed, glaring up at Ruby.

“Ar!”

“Right, right—sorry. Let’s go.”

Aron snorted as he watched the boy run into the other room. Nobody was going to touch that pie—not until Jaide served him his portion, anyway. She’d promised him a huge piece, after all!

The Pokémon cast one more glance up at the counter, then nodded to himself, scampering after Ruby. After all … dinner could wait a while longer.

[anika-ann]

WINSoD - Pt.6

...We Both Will Drop

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader  Word count: 4820

Summary: In which the mission to retrieve stones is on and you and Steve arrive to Vormir. Some things are simply... inevitable.

Warnings: (we all know what’s coming don’t we), blood and violence, character death, mentions of suicide, language

A/N: Don’t blame me, it’s the large scheme and shit. *runs and hides in a middle of nowehere*

Part 5

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Everyone on the team had been through having their heart broken at least once; hell, find one of humankind who hadn’t. After the Snap, it was an impossible task; even children, when asked, felt like something was missing to them, feeling a deeply-embedded longing they couldn’t quite comprehend. Surely, they wouldn’t use such big words, having only been five years old now, but the sentiment was all the same.

And when all humanity felt like that, there was little space for hope.

However, the hope that barely started to take roots in the team when they figured out a way to unlimitedly travel in time and space, grew rapidly when Natasha winced in a middle of summarizing the plan once more; only to reveal that the source of pain was… insane.

It was a tattoo-like message on her collarbone.

She had received a new set of words. And they happened to be written in Sam Wilson’s handwriting, a sentence little snarky and little sappy and… no one blamed Scott for asking the question that itched everyone on the tip of their tongue.

“So… that means we succeed, right? And they meet again, more or less for the first time? I mean, we already saw a case like that.”

Despite the cold shiver running up your spine, your heart was wrapped in a fluffy warmth at that thought. It would be worth it. The sacrifice made will be worth it.

You swiftly dried the tear forming in the corner of your eye at the memory of Natasha’s reluctant but bright smile before Steve could notice. You followed him as he climbed towards the peak of which your instincts told you was exactly the place to go.

He was gallantly helping you to follow without a single ‘I told you so,’ even when you slipped and nearly face-planted. Instead, he smiled at you tenderly, concern furrowing his brow, but not once he complained about you being a liability instead of the help you were supposed to provide.

Vormir was an inhospitable planet. All built of rocks, with icy wind, sweeping snowflakes into your face and you were grateful for your gloves and Steve’s broad shoulders that shielded you at least partly.

Finally reaching a plateau, you were welcomed by a creature floating above the surface; his face red, a bald scalp, head stripped to a bone with nearly no skin, muscles or fat, partly hidden by a hood of his tattered cloak.

You never liked studying history, but even you knew who this was – or who he seemed to be. If Steve’s face and posture was anything to go by, he thought the same.

But that couldn’t be, right? The Red Skull had died- disappeared when touching an Infinity Stone. Would it really be so crazy if he was still connected to one?

“Steven, son of Sarah,” the peculiar creature welcomed your soulmate with a hiss, repeating a greeting of similar nature with you, only showing off he knew your father’s name, not mother’s like with Steve, and obviously calling you a daughter.

Which wasn’t creepy at all.

“You-“ Steve only growled and was already lunging at the man, only for his body to go through him as if the figure was nothing but a unsubstantial illusion.

You yelped in fright for Steve, but he didn’t even fall to the ground, his training preparing him for more surprising situations that his opponent being immaterial.

The Red Skull appeared to be annoyed at Steve’s antics at best; he didn’t make any attempt at attacking either him or you, only watching you with freakily knowing gaze as if he already learned your purpose here. Which was impossible, right?

But was it?

“Steve… I don’t think we need to fight him,” you whispered, averting the piercing glare of the Skull on you.

Steve looked at you as if you were crazy and threw himself on the cloaked figure again; shockingly, with the very same result.

It was an irony for God’s pleasure, you guessed, Steve fighting an old enemy, an enemy that couldn’t be defeated it seemed. Funny metaphor of his life no one laughed at; certainly not you.

Feeling two pairs of eyes on you now, you shivered.

“You don’t, indeed,” the Skull howled over the wind that picked up. “I know why you’re here and I only act as a guide. No matter how much I’d like to go another round with you, Captain, that is all I am.”

Steve snarled, but didn’t come after him again, stopping in mid-motion when you gently placed a hand of his shoulder. He ended up only leaning forward, ready to strike, shield in his hand.

He was handsome even with the scowl on his face, you thought absently and quickly brushed it off, scolding yourself for such ideas at a time like this. But why wouldn’t you let your mind wander into such territory? At the moment, you felt strangely detached from the whole scene in front of you. You wondered if that would change or if you could fulfil your purpose with your soul at peace.

“Then guide us,” Steve hissed, protectively standing between you and the Red Skull.

“Careful what you wish for, Captain.”

You followed the floating figure towards the edge of the plateau, stopping several feet from a bottomless gulf.

You closed your eyes when the vertigo overtook you, the crushing weight of your mission causing you to sway. Steve allowed you to lean onto his body, your palm sprawled across his chest, and he pulled you even farther from the edge into safer distance.

“Why are you showing us this?”

“Because that is the face of destiny you’re staring into,” your guide explained, a smirk forming on his face. Steve instantly let you go in favour to brace himself for the fight to come. Except you already knew it wouldn’t come; not the fight Steve was readying himself for. “I’m not gonna push either of you, Captain. You manage that on your own.”

“What makes you think we would ever do that?”

“The fact that it’s what we need to do to get the Stone,” you answered quietly to the question Steve had spitted out, earning a horrified glance from him.

“Indeed. A Soul Stone is a special entity. To get a hold of it, you must sacrifice a soul. You have found yourself a smart wife, Captain, for she knows this. Too bad she won’t be able to make it back.”

“Over my dead body,” Steve snarled and for a good measure grabbed your hand and dragged you away from the floating figure.

“That certainly is an option too.”

“Fuck. You. Liar!” Steve snapped at him and not even his anger moved you this time. Anger was good. Anger was familiar and in a pleasant contrast to your serenity returning.

“Am I? Or does your team have another explanation for Gamora’s death? Never in my lifetime I thought I’d see a Titan shed tears…” the Skull mused.

Steve’s eyes met yours as he faced you and what he saw in them must have shook him to a core, because his face lost all colour, his irises flashing with rage and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“He’s a slippery bastard, doll. I don’t trust one word-“

Denial. The other thing you saw in his eyes was denial.

“I do,” you breathed out softly, tears finally appearing in your eyes as your scarily high walls that had kept you detached from the whole ordeal came slowly crumbling down. “Thanos arrived here with whom he considered his daughter. And she didn’t make it back.”

Your heart skipped a beat, startled when Steve’s large palms gripped your shoulders and shook you.

“He’s tricking us, that’s what he does! Don’t let him play with your head,” he thundered, his fingers digging into your muscle even through your thick coat, strong enough to bruise.

Swallowing thickly as Steve stared at you, pleading, determined and still unwilling to accept the reality laid in front of him. You forced yourself not to avert his gaze when you responded in a whisper, a sound nearly lost in the howling wind.

“You know he’s telling the truth, Steve.”

You felt hollow. The cold started to seep through your clothing, or maybe it was coming from the inside, leaving your fingers and nose freezing in a desperate attempt to warm your torso up.

Steve’s hands slid from your shoulders as if they lost all strength, his own shoulders slumping, light shake of his head when he turned away from you, fingers plunging in his hair for the shortest of moments before facing you again.

You could see the shift in his attitude; you could see the fight vaporizing from his body, all harshness dissolved and blossoming into tenderness you didn’t deserve at the moment.

Yet you let him touch you, eyelids fluttering shut at the sensation, ignoring the weight in your stomach and letting yourself indulge the kindness of his touch. A lightest brush of fingers along your jaw, over your cheekbones, the pad of is thumb running over your no doubt purple lips.

He was committing himself to a memory of you and you loved him for it more than you could put into words, warm tears escaping from under your eyelids. He was a good man. Once again, he understood what had to be done and that for some reason, God seemed to hate him, asking him to sacrifice his own happiness in favour of others. He had to let you go.

“Then I go,” he breathed out and you snapped your eyes open, startled.

Of course, he got it wrong.

God, you were such an idiot, you should have known.

You threw your arms around him, tight embrace he didn’t fight, burying his face in your neck instead.

“We both know I can’t let you do that, Steve,” you negotiated, allowing the harshness of your attitude – read, thinking he was being utterly stupid – into your voice. He didn’t seem to mind, breathing in deeply, melting into your frame and you knew it was time to act before he could.

You managed to sneak one arm lower, around his waist instead. He just adjusted the hug, his lips brushing your cheek, angrily red from the whips by the biting cold.

“I love you, sweetheart. You were right. You had to come here with me,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard your protest and you squeezed your eyes shut, more burning tears rolling down your cheeks. Fuck, how much you hated this. “You’ll get the Stone back, yeah? And you live a life. Buck, Sam, Ryan, Pietro… they’ll be back and take care of you. They all love you too. Hey, you might even get a third soulmark-”

“Steve-“ you couldn’t help but growl at his dickish words.

“Shh, doll. It’s all going to be okay. “

Moving your hands over his back as he rubbed to-be-soothing circles on your own, your trembling fingers got a hold of what you were looking for in one of the pockets on his belt. You were a terrible actress, even worse spy, but here you were, succeeding in the worst mission you had ever been given; not that there had been many to compete with.

God sucked as a boss and clearly was short off staff if he was sending the king of Hell as his messenger.

You buried your face in Steve’s chest, basking in the warmth he was radiating, the irreplaceable sensation of safety and content his arms around you offered, something you would miss immensely.

“Promise?” you mumbled, choking on a sob, the hatred for yourself deeper than ever in your life.

You needed that promise. What did it matter Steve didn’t know what he was promising? You had no clue what was awaiting you; he couldn’t either. But he was a good man, you had learned that in thousands different ways through your years together.

“Promise.”

“…it’s going to be okay,” you repeated after him and he squeezed you tighter, as much as you squeezed the object in your palm.

“One for the road?” he mumbled, voice shaky, never letting you to answer him before his lips found yours, thirsty and demanding, breathing your soul in, leaving you feel floaty. You nibbled at his lower lip in response, low growl rumbling in his chest, echoing against your own ribcage, the kiss consuming your whole being.

One for the road, your mind parroted dreamily and you instinctively melted into Steve’s frame, indulging the last kiss of your lifetime.

Christ, that fact alone caused your chest to constrict with blinding panic, your tears like waterfalls.

You inhaled shakily as Steve withdrew with a sigh, both of you turning to the Red Skull.

Steve stepped forward, never registering your little theft.

How could he?

He had been through so much, enough punches to his face and back-stabbing for a life-time. He had learned how to stay alert, to expect another blow at any moment. You could tell he was never letting go of that, not entirely, not even with his friends, no matter how it crushed his good soul, his faith in people. He was always ready to look for danger so he could avoid another stab in the back. But not with you.

Never with you.

Which had been exactly what you had relied on when you did what you did. The analogy with back-stabbing wasn’t even funny.

“Alright. What do I have to do?” Steve asked with determination, his voice only wavering enough for you to hear it, and the stone-keeper looked at him with one corner of his mouth raised in an evil cocky smirk.

Bastard. Enjoying this a little too much.

“You mourn, Captain,” he whispered and met your eyes as you subtly undone a part of your coat. He must have noticed then, unlike Steve. Or maybe he truly had known all along, even before you had come here.

Seeing Steve already spinning on his heels when he understood the guide was having a wordless conversation with you, you had no time to actually brace yourself before wrapping both of your hands around the handle and driving the blade into your torso.

No one had told you it would hurt like motherfucker, but no one had told you how loud Steve’s scream would seem even over the ringing in your ears either.

No one had warned you that pulling the blade away would be really fucking hard, impossible even. But you had lived in the impossible for the past eight years, hadn’t you? You tore it away with a grunt, shocked at the dull agony.

You had planned two stabs, just not to give Steve any ideas, but the blinding pain slowed your movements. Before the tip of the knife could as much as graze you skin for the second time, Steve was easily twisting it from your hold and throwing it away.

You watched the weapon clank on the stony surface of the plateau, leaving droplets of crimson in the snow, hypnotized by the contrast.

The moment Steve’s hands touched you, your knees gave away and the throbbing in the wound intensified as you nearly collapsed to the ground. But he was here – he was always here to catch you, strong arms supporting you and shakily helping you to sit down.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to tear your gaze away from the blood and look up at him. His face was drained of all colour – funny, yours must have too, mustn’t it? –, his expression pure horror, blue and green fighting in his terrified eyes.

“What did you do?” he demanded breathlessly. “Oh god, what did you do?!”

You would think it was obvious, but your head spun too much to point that out. Too many words to form. Too much work.

“Played my part,” you mumbled instead.

Inspecting the wound shortly, but very much painfully, Steve was fast to press against it and make you howl in agony. And shit, there was so much blood… who would have thought there would be so much so fast? It was strangely warm against your body, soon cooling off. The contrast was fascinating.

“Fuck- hey, hey, you’re going to be okay! Look at me!” Steve ordered and the commanding voice left your fingers tingling. Or was it the cold? “We’ll get you to the compound and then I’ll be back here, figuring it out, okay? Now, breathe with me and do not-“

You smiled at him kindly or at least you attempted it. He was a true fighter in heart, never giving up. That was why you had needed to injure yourself fatally, which he effectively attempted to avoid when disarming you. But the biting cold prevented your body from resisting the brutal intrusion. The fact you had pulled out the stopper out in attempt to stab again had probably helped.

A part of you was getting nauseous at such formulation, at being content at succeeding in… yeah, there was no euphemism for this, it was a fucking suicide. A different part yelled ‘good’, because that had been the plan.

What Steve was offering sounded so, so tempting. He would make sure to pamper you when you got to the compound, falling asleep in the chair, holding your hand, sitting guard by your bedside and you would be warm, feeling oh so immensely loved… but you couldn’t allow that.

You forced the next words out of your mouth while your brain yelled at you to just give in and nod instead.

“No. Steve… I’m already halfway gone. You need to throw me-��

“NO! No! Not a fucking option!“ he bellowed, his vision possibly gaining crimson edges of rage if his expression was anything to go by. It was swimming in front of your eyes, but even in his anger, he was so damn beautiful. A piece of art. Man too beautiful not to be sculptured by angels themselves. “What were you thinking?!”

I wasn’t thinking. God had. The King of Hell told me to do it. This way we win, you know?

“We both know I won’t make it there if you try to take me-“

“You will!“ he spat back stubbornly, his frame shaking and you suspected it wasn’t because of the temperature. No, either he was pissed off beyond belief or… or scared. Because he was well-aware of the fact you were right.

Your body started feeling like floating, your eyes turning to the sky on their own and you gritted your teeth, fighting it.

Not yet. Not fucking yet. Not until he knew this wasn’t on him, that this was something you simply had to do.

“Steve, Stevie- this is why I was resurrected. This is it. I go, so you could continue the mission, get the Stone back, fight whatever fight might come. I’m so sorry for this, but you know it has to be me.”

He looked at you with so much hurt in his eyes that you would have thought you stabbed him. He shook his head violently, trembling hands pushing harder against your wound and making you let out a sound way too close to a whine. You thought at least. The ringing in your ears was getting louder and the world was losing its colours… or was it like this the whole time, on this planet? You couldn’t remember…

Yet, you would swear that a crack in his conviction appeared on his face, one he swiftly disguised and shook off, determination replacing it as he fought the tears streaming down his face. You felt nothing but relief when you realized he started accepting the truth, started accepting what was happening. What had to happen.

“No. No, that’s not true.”

Your next words tasted bitter and dripped venom, but you said them anyway, a harsh reminder of your first goodbye. You hated yourself for speaking them; however, Steve had to understand.

“We’re out of time, Steve,” you mumbled, your tongue growing heavy, funny taste on it. “We’re always out of time.”

“Please, doll, not again, I can’t-“ The way he choked on his sob told you your shot found its target, the memory crushing his hope, slowly, but surely forcing him to resign. The calm you had felt when you arrived here returned, embracing you gently and you hoped your attempt at smile turned out decent.

“You can. You’re the brave-“ You hissed in pain as you wanted to straighten yourself just a bit, to be closer to him, instantly regretting not asking Steve to move you instead. Fuck, that hurt. “-bravest person I’ve ever met.”

“That’s bullshit-” he spitted out, but he helped you sit up straighter, allowing you to nearly drown in the pools of his irises.

God, he was so beautiful, even in his grief, eyes red-rimmed, his nose running. He was yours. Always yours, you knew as much.

“My hero-“

“I’m not a Captain for while, you know,” he chucked humourlessly, a glint of something you didn’t like displaying on his face. “Just let me take you-“

“Not the Captain,” you shook your head, lamenting yourself for muddling it up. Calling him your hero was a bad, very bad idea. But you couldn’t think anymore, your head was buzzing with too many thoughts, wrapped in sensation of endless pain radiating from your gut. “You, S-s-stevie. Now let me go.”

“NO!”

“If I d-die before-re you throw m-me-“ you negotiated, only to be interrupted by the creature you had completely forgotten was there as well.

“She’s right,” the Red Skull confirmed flatly.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Steve roared, not bothering to look at him as he gathered you in his arms, not without a serious wave of vertigo on your part. And pain. Fuck, always pain. Being stabbed fucking hurt.

He only stood, torn between the tinniest chance at your survival and doing the right thing. It was ridiculous and disgusting how much it reminded you of your first goodbye. Left, or right door? You or millions, this time?

“Doll-“

“’s okay, Stevie. I love you. Al-always. Br-- the edge. ‘d let go,” you breathed out, your words slurring as you were losing control. He must throw you soon. That sucked. You would like few more moments with him.

Or a lifetime. Kisses, cuddles, playful lovemaking, friends and kids… maybe you could adopt, or just keep trying…

Steve’s features twisted in denial, jaw clenched, but it did nothing to disguise the tremble in it. His eyes were squeezed shut, glittering drops of salty water escaping, your own waterfalls never stopping. You clenched your teeth with effort to raise your hand, bloody fingers caressing his smooth cheek.

“’s ‘kay.”

He shook his head desperately, but his grip grew firmer, his steps heavy as he carried you to the edge as if he was about to meet his own end.

You swallowed your own sobs.

You didn’t want to die. You wished you could say you were at peace, you had thought you were but you weren’t. Yet, you needed to convince Steve about the opposite – again.

Life was so fucking unfair.

If that was true though… was at least death just?

Your eyes flickered to the terrible chasm, vertigo taking over once more at the image of just how long the fall would last.

Endless seconds of free fall.

But it wouldn’t be the fall that would kill you, would it now? It would be the landing.

It was always the landing.

Hovering above the edge in Steve’s arms, his eyes turned up towards the colourful sky, as if he was trying to keep his tears at bay or simply couldn’t look at you. Seconds felt like hours. Like forever, even. It was obvious he couldn’t make himself let go.

Jesus fucking Christ, how could he, after all? You wouldn’t if in his place, your roles reversed.

“Down-“ you muttered lowly and he instantly obeyed with his gaze returning to you.

The gaze he focused on you would always be carved into your memory, even in death, you had no doubt. You never knew a man could say so much about the agony that was tearing him apart with one look, but here he was. Your Steve.

When he kneeled, lowering your body to the ground, his hold slacking a fraction, you knew it was time. You forced another teary smile, lips quivering, no longer able to tell if it was from pain, the cold seeping into your bones and core or simple fear.

What was waiting at the bottom? More pain or something else? Maybe the peace, finally? How would you be able to rest in peace though, knowing you were leaving Steve behind?

“S-so good t-to me,” you breathed out shakily, memorizing every feature, every wrinkle of laughter and worry, even as the darkness started eating out the edges of your vision. You needed to go, now. You gathered the last remnants of strength, bracing yourself. “Love ya’.”

Propping your palms against his chest, you pushed away from him, the feeling of the sudden lack of ground under your body dizzying.

Wind slapped your cheeks, freezing the tears in your eyes and cutting through the wound.

The gale carried Steve’s broken scream to your ears and you sent him one last whispered sorry.

The fall seemed to have no end. But for once, God was truly merciful; you didn’t feel the landing.

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Seeing their past selves was strange to say at least and Natasha mused how long of a path they had all walked since the first assemble of the Avengers.

In a way, it carried hope too though. She had buried hope for her soulmate and lost friends a long time ago; but now it was back. They had retrieved the Stones from New York relatively smoothly – though Clint had got a bit perplexed at having his soul punched out of his body by the Sorcerer Supreme – and were on their way back to their time.

This mission was a pretty ambitious stretch from Budapest. She had told so to Clint and found herself honestly smiling at his burst of laughter after years of mourning. Some lives had been ruined, but others still remained; and the chances that what they had lost in the dust could be brought back had concrete outlines now; outlines visible on her own skin as well. Her chest ached, but her heart fluttered with the memory of her soulmate.

Her feet landed on the platform with a rather ungraceful thud, but she still managed to keep herself standing upright. One glance around was all she spent to check up on everyone; only to find two people missing.

Blood froze in her veins, the satisfied smile at completed mission slipping from her face as her heart changed its pace from excited to horrified.

No.

No, this was not how this was supposed to go! Everyone should have come back!

So why was one whole pair missing? Why-

Strangely enough, her horror only escalated when she noticed that it was in fact one person missing only; because the other was on the platform with them, closer to the ground that she had expected, stripped of the nano-suit, stealth suit darker as it was dripping water; pink as it mixed with crimson stains on his thighs and torso.

No.

Oh no.

This was not happening. It couldn’t. Not again.

Steve had fallen to his knees, hands by his side clenched in tight fists. Blankly staring ahead, not actually seeing anything in front of him, a smudge of red – three lines clearly drawn by bloody fingertips – on his cheek and his face free of any colour and emotion telling enough of a story; screaming a story, in fact.

Natasha’s insides twisted painfully and she nearly spilled the contents of her stomach. She recognized that look – she had seen it before on Steve. On herself in a mirror.

Tears stinging in her eyes, she took a shaky step towards him, her heart weeping and grieving for her friends.

“…Steve?” Bruce questioned lowly from behind the machine he had controlled, but it only filled the deadly silence.

They all already knew what happened – or understood enough.

The Stone giving away warm amber glow slipped from Steve’s palm, his fingers plunging in his hair and gripping tightly, pulling enough to make it hurt like hell no doubt.

Yet, Natasha was well-aware it did nothing to dull the deep visceral pain that overtook his whole being, swallowed his whole shattered soul.

A guttural moan left his lips as he curled into himself and she didn’t bother blinking away her tears anymore.

Nothing she could do would sooth his grief. Yet, she placed her trembling palm on Steve’s shoulder in attempt to ground him, to show him she was there for him.

A desperate shriek, a helpless cry loud enough to tear ear-drums and hearts, cut the thick air of the compound and the large frame of a supersoldier went limp, swaying aside.

Natasha didn’t try and stop the fall. God knew that he would be falling for too long anyway.

The fucked-up thing about this kind of fall was that the landing, the only thing that could bring relief, would never come.

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Epilogue

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HOLD THE FIRE!

If you don’t kill me, you might get an epilogue, you know? One you might actually like. Just SAYING!

Also, thank you for reading :-*

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 3k

Warnings: swearing, angst, implied smut

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 10 Part 12

Part 11

The next few days were monotonous. Most mornings, I would go to the gym. Then I'd head off to work. After work, I'd take Perrin for a walk. We stopped at the dog park a few times to throw the ball. Then I'd go home and read or watch tv. After dinner, I would FaceTime Liam before falling asleep.

Although I missed him terribly, it had been good to have some space. I was able to think about us a bit. Liam was always great on the phone, a gentleman even. Yes, he flirted with me and made inappropriate comments, but they were always in context. I'd be lying if I said I didn't flirt with him back. But it was nice to get to know him better, and I decided I definitely liked him as a person and a lover. He was sweet, sincere, funny and warm, the same as he was when he was Will. He seemed to accept who I was. There were no digs at me, maybe some friendly ribbing, but it seemed he liked me too. We spent a lot of time laughing. We had a similar sense of humour.

He opened up about some of his past relationships, how he felt about them and what went wrong. A lot of the times, he admitted to fault, especially in the early ones. I talked a bit about Andy but kept a lot back. No doubt, he noticed.

Thursday afternoon changed everything.

Liam called me when I was driving home from work at about four-thirty. It broke with our routine. We usually spoke around nine o'clock. I answered the phone, and Liam's voice came through the speakers.

"Hello, Sweetheart. How was your day?"

I smiled at this now familiar greeting. "Really good, Liam. How was yours? Have you finished work already?"

"Yeah, good. I'm supposed to stay for another hour, but I wasn't needed, so I left." Liam paused and said, "Listen, Lana, I have to tell you something."

"Oh, no."

"Yesterday, a parent from your school saw the pictures of us." I went cold. I was 10 minutes from my house, but I pulled over. "She left a message on one of the pictures that you look like a teacher from her kid's school." Oh shit. "Anyway, this morning, you were on duty at the "kiss and drop", whatever that is."

Robotically I said, "it's where the parents drop the kids off at school without getting out of the car." I could see where this is as going.

"Right." He sounded strange but continued. "Well, they took a picture of you, put that side by side with the others. Long story short, Sarah was called to confirm your name."

"Oh, for fucks sake." I was pissed off. "What did she tell them?"

"She said she couldn't confirm or deny."

"In other words, yes, but my boss said, don't say anything."

"That's a bit unfair, Lana. She can't lie to them, or they won't bother calling her when they get a story. They will just run it because they can't trust what she says."

"Fuck this," I said and hung up on Liam.

I slammed my foot down on the accelerator and spun the tires. I had a Toyota Camry SX. It's sort of sporty, but it's not meant to be driven like that, but I was fuming. Liam rang again, but I ignored it. I backed off and slightly and rounded a corner, tires chirping as I went. I fumbled in my bag, driving one-handed until I found and lit a cigarette. As stupid as it was, I drove the rest of the way home like that.

When I got home, I quickly changed into my Draggin jeans, leather jacket and riding boots. I grabbed my helmet, gloves and went for a ride.

I loved being on the bike. Andy was the first guy I'd been with who rode. I remembered the first time he got me on the bike. He hadn't even let the clutch out, and I screamed and jumped off. The second time was better, and I went around the block before I got off. The third time, I was hooked. I loved holding onto his waist as we rode, my chest pressed against his back, my thighs touching his, my hands under his t-shirt. I loved the heavy thrumming of the bike, the wind whistling past. It was exciting, erotic, but also calming. Calming is what I needed.

I was so angry. Not at Liam or Sarah. Or even the bitch who outed me or the others who put my photo out there in the first place. I didn't know who I was angry with. Hollywood? Gossip? Social media? Myself? Maybe I was mad at myself. I deserved it. I'd turned my back on Andy, fucked another guy, and now I'm in a relationship with him, according to public record. Every time someone googles my name, his will come up.

The parents at school will give me looks, and I won't know what they are thinking. Will they be laughing at me? And if it didn't work out, everyone would know. I would have to go through a break up while everyone watched, picked at it, chose sides and commented.

I rode for about an hour up through the Blue Mountains. When I stopped for petrol at Wentworth Falls, my thoughts had settled, and I was thinking clearer. I stopped at a cafe, got a coffee and checked my phone. Liam had called twice more and sent a few messages. Riza had called and texted me.

I checked Riza's first. It was a link to an article, Liam Cross's Secret Aussie Lover. Her text simply said, "Jen just found this. Call me if you need me." I didn't click the link.

I checked Liam's. He said he wants to make sure I'm ok. Then he said he wants to come over and talk to me.

I called Liam. He seemed to answer before it even rang. "Sweetheart. Are you ok?" He sounded a bit frantic.

I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"I knew you'd be upset."

"Upset is one thing. I snapped at you and blamed Sarah. You're right. It's not her fault."

"Lana, don't worry about that. Did you read the article?"

"No."

Liam was quiet a while. Then he said, "Are you ok now?"

"Yeah, I'm ok. I just needed some time to calm down." I let out a short laugh. "I am a redhead after all. I have a temper."

Liam laughed, "Do I have to be worried about being stabbed in my sleep?"

"Nah, being a redhead wouldn't make me do that. I get that part of me from being a Scorpio."

"I don't know whether to be scared or turned on right now."

I smirked, "Why not be both?"

Liam laughed and then got serious. "You sure you're ok? Do you want me to come over? I almost did get in my car when you wouldn't answer."

"Stalker," I teased.

"And that's why I didn't."

"I'm not at home anyway."

"Where are you?"

"I took off on the bike to clear my head. I'm in the mountains right now."

"The mountains?"

"Yeah, the Blue Mountains. Look west tomorrow, and you'll see them."

"I'll do that." Liam paused. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you too. Bye, Liam."

"Bye, Sweetheart."

I finished my coffee and rode home.

I texted Riza to let her know I was ok. I played with Perrin. I texted my brother to remind him to pick Perrin up tomorrow afternoon. I ate some dinner before packing my bag for tomorrow and went to bed. It was a long time before I finally fell into a restless sleep.

Liam Cross's Secret Aussie Lover

"Pictures of Liam Cross, 38, with an unknown female were circulating on social media earlier this week, and tongues were set wagging.

"Users were quick to put their detective hats on and tracked down Cross's new flame late yesterday. The woman was identified as Mrs Alana Walker, 30, Sydneysider, and special education teacher. Not much else is known about Mrs Walker other than she was widowed in 2017.  Her husband, Andrew Walker, and father Brian Kelly were killed in a horrific Boxing Day crash when his car was destroyed by a truck driver who had a medical incident behind the wheel.

"Sources close to Cross say that he has been elated the past couple of months, and now they know why. They hope for his sake that this relationship will not be plagued by scandal like his previous relationships.

"For now, Cross's camp is remaining tight-lipped on the situation. While they don't deny a relationship, they will not confirm it.

"Cross is currently in Sydney for an adaptation of the widely popular and romantic fantasy epic Beyond the Stones series by C. W. Taylor. He will co-star alongside Australian Myra Roberts with an expected release in the northern hemisphere winter of 2022."

I woke on Friday morning and laid in bed for a while. I should have gone to the gym, but I just couldn't get my body to move. I wanted to chuck a sickie, blow off the whole day, maybe go for a swim, or just watch movies all day. I had an urge to watch Kill Bill for some reason. But I couldn't do that to the kids.

I knew I was just trying to avoid the parents at school. I'm sure most of them know by now. Gossip runs rampant at the school gate. We've all seen Big Little Lies. Probably all the staff knew too. It was one of those days where I wish I could just press fast forward and get to the part where I see Liam again. I didn't want to miss out on that.

In the end, I got up, showered and got ready for work. I tamed my hair, put on my war paint and dressed in black work pants, ballet flats and a pink knitted cardigan.

I started to pack my bag for the weekend, trying to work out what outfits I needed. I had decided what I wanted to wear for dinner tonight, but I didn't know what to wear to bed. Would I even need anything to wear? I blushed at the thought. I packed a basic set of pyjamas. I added jeans and a couple of t-shirts, a hoodie and my Dr Martens. I put some pretty underwear in there too. I didn't have much, just a white lace set which Liam had already seen and two black lace sets. I packed them all.

My phone beeped, and I got a message from Liam. It was a picture of his face all sweaty from working out. He had his tongue sticking out. He had written, I was going to send you a picture of my cock but thought that was a bit vulgar. So I decided to send you a picture of another part of my body that's going to fuck you tonight. Can't wait x.

My whole body grew hot, my stomach filled with butterflies, and I giggled. I started to reply with 'cheeky bastard', but then I had an idea. I sent him a picture of my face with my mouth open in an O shape, and I rested a finger on the corner of my lower lip. I wrote, I was going to send you a picture of my pussy but thought it was a bit obvious. So I sent you a picture of another part of my body that's going to get fucked tonight. X

Within a minute, I got a reply of: Game on, Sweetheart.

Well, if Liam wants to play a game, I can play a game.

I pulled my pyjamas out of my bag and put in a satin shift, pretty much my only sexy bedclothes. I thought about what other sexy photos I could take and packed a few other things. Then I made my lunch and headed off to work.

I rang Riza on the way to work. She asked me about how I was feeling. I told her I was dealing with it, but I said no more about it. I asked Riza about how she and Jen were going, and she said we would meet up soon.

"I miss you," she said.

"Yeah, I miss you too. Talk soon, ok?"

"Yeah, have a good weekend slut! Tell Liam I said hi."

"Suck a dick Riz."

We hung up, and almost immediately, Dave calls.

He doesn't say hello or anything, just launches in with, "Are you dating Liam Cross?" Fuck. "One of Lucy's friends just sent her an article about you and him."

No use denying it then. "Yeah, I am. He's the one I'm spending the weekend with." I braced for his reply.

"Fuck me dead. My fucking little sister is rooting Liam fucking Cross." His voice didn't sound angry. He sounded impressed.

I rolled my eyes. "It's not a big deal. Just don't forget to get Perrin and don't tell Mum."

"Not a big deal? The kids will go crazy when they meet him."

"Dave, we are hardly at the point where we are meeting families."

"Yeah, alright, keep your shirt on."

"I'll come by Sunday arvo to pick Perrin up?"

"Wanna stay for dinner?"

"Yeah, ok. See you then."

I ended the call and got to work not long after that. I went straight to my classroom, trying to avoid everyone. There was one person I couldn't avoid, and that was Marla, my teacher's aide. She was in her late 50s, though, so I thought she would be pretty safe. She didn't mention anything all morning, which was a relief.

At lunchtime, I stayed in the classroom. I told Marla I had some work to do, so she left me alone. I checked my phone and found a message from Liam.

It was a picture of Liam drinking from a bottle of pineapple juice, and it said, Me hydrating for tonight x.

His innuendo made me chuckle, but I had planned for something like this. I took a selfie of myself with a banana in my mouth and sent it with the caption: Presumptive much? Me carbo-loading for tonight.

Liam replied a little later with, I can't decide if I'm winning because my pics are better or if I'm still winning because yours are better.

Marla came back into the classroom about halfway through lunch. She pottered around the room, trying to look busy. She kept looking over at me. I felt myself start to panic. She wasn't acting like that this morning. She must know now. They all must know. I started wondering what everyone was saying about me in the staff room. They had probably sent Marla back to the classroom to see what information they could get out of me. The panic receded, and anger filled the void.

Eventually, I lost my temper. "Have you got something to say, Marla?"

Marla had the good grace to look ashamed. "No. Nothing."

I crossed my arms. "What are they saying?"

Marla sighed, "honestly? They're mostly pretty stoked about it. Happy for you."

I let my arms fall. My vision went a bit blurry. "Really?"

Marla came over and leaned against the table, and rubbed my back. "Oh, Darl, yeah, most of us remember what it was like for you. We just want you to be happy."

I smiled at her, but the tears still came. Marla gave me a tissue. "Thanks, Marla." I sniffed, "ugh, the parents, though. I'm not looking forward to that."

Marla smiled and said, "don't worry about it, Darl. I'll fill in for ya this arvo, and you can do my Wednesday lunch duty. How's that?" I thanked her. Relieved, I hugged her and cleaned myself up.

When school had finished, I made a mad dash to the car park. I knew I was just putting off the inevitable. I'd have to show my face in front of the parents sooner or later, but I decided it was Monday's problem.

I checked my phone before I headed off to Liam's place. He had sent me a shirtless picture of himself with some rope curled up around his shoulder and written, One of my costumes has a rope. It made me think of you. I'm about to leave. See you soon.

Dammit, I couldn't think of a response to that one! I sat and thought about it for ages. I was not about to give in easily. Then it came to me. I got my water bottle and one of my spare undies from my overnight bag. I wet them a bit, put the underwear and water bottle on the bag and took a picture of them both. I wrote. My water bottle leaked in my bag, and my panties got wet. It made me think of you. I'm on my way.

The three circles came up within seconds, and Liam sent, You are in so much trouble, Sweetheart. Park around the back.

And because I can't control my tongue in real life or texts, I wrote back, That's what she said.

I didn't wait for a reply. I just put an audiobook on and drove.

Part 12

[fanficsandthings]

Warmth

Modern!Davey Jacobs x femme!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: It’s prom night, and you’re lonely. Davey has a date, and you’re a little jealous. 

Author’s note: I try to write my fics as gender neutral as possible, but this is definitely a female reader. Also if anybody cares, I have reference pics for what I’m imagining a lot of they’re prom outfits to look like. If anyone wants to know, send me an ask and I’ll post them. please send me an ask, i want people to see them (I just feel weird about fics with outfit pictures in them)

Your day had barely started, and you already weren’t sure if you were going to make it through the night. According to multiple sources, your senior prom was supposed to be one of the best nights of your last year of high school. Then why was it that you were miserable? You had been miserable since you woke up that morning. You thought that maybe it was because you hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and you were dreading having to stay up so late. The misery followed you to Katherine’s house, and it was with you the whole time you did your makeup. It loomed around you as you watched Sarah in the mirror as she curled your hair.

Looking at her smile sent a familiar feeling through your body. It was a feeling you got from all the Jacobs siblings; a feeling of warmth. You don’t know where it came from, but they all had it, and it was a beautiful feeling to have. You felt it every time you saw Sarah smile as Katherine walked in the room, like the sun suddenly appeared after a week of grey skies. The feeling was there every time Les came running up to you, going on and on about something he had learned in school that day. Les didn’t take to school too well, but now and then they learned about a subject that captured his attention, and it was all he would talk about for days. The feeling radiated hotter than fire every time you spoke to Davey.

Davey Jacobs with his soft hazel eyes, his love for helping people, the way he always seemed to be wearing the color blue, his passion for every story he wrote, his commitment to his friends, and how good he looked in a tux. You had only seen him wearing a tux in photos, but even then you couldn’t deny how good he looked. Most of your friends had agreed to skip out on your junior prom, but Davey got asked by a girl he was in band with, and he couldn’t say no. She was beautiful, and her and Davey looked perfect in every picture you saw of them. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even Kath or Sarah, but you were jealous of that girl. They only went as friends, but you couldn’t swallow that little hint of jealousy that you felt.

This year Davey asked Smalls to go with him. He never fully explained why he asked her, but it was really none of your business, so you didn’t pry. You had wondered why he never even thought to ask you. He was one of your closest friends, and if he wanted to go with a friend, you seemed like a perfect choice. The thought occurred to you that he could’ve also asked Smalls to go as more than friends. They were close, and they seemed to be getting even closer lately. That thought made the cloud of misery around you darken. Davey wasn’t yours, and the way things were looking he probably never would be, but you couldn’t hide the sadness you felt thinking about him with someone else.

Sarah let out a small squeal of excitement, and you snapped out of your thoughts. You looked over at the door as Katherine came fully into the room. You had all seen each other in your dresses before, but this was different. The black fabric fit her perfectly, the skirt swaying around her legs as she walked. She looked beautiful, and you could see tears starting to form in Sarah’s eyes.

Sarah put the curling wand down on the counter and ran over to her. She picked Katherine up in hug and spun in a circle, Katherine’s dress following after her. If you could’ve slowed down time, it would’ve been the perfect shot for a romantic movie.

Katherine’s smile was pure joy as she laughed through her words. “Sarah, you’re gonna wrinkle my dress.”

Sarah stopped spinning and placed Katherine’s feet back on the ground. “You’re just so beautiful,” she said as she kissed Katherine softly, careful not to smudge either of their lipsticks.

Katherine’s cheeks turned even redder under her makeup. “You’re more beautiful than I’ll ever be, Sarah.”

Sarah scoffed. “I don’t even have my dress on yet, Kath. There’s no way I could beat you when you look like that--” She gestured to Katherine’s dress. “--and I look like this.” She gestured to her sweatpants and zip up hoodie.

Sarah’s warmth and Katherine’s sunshine were making you feel a little less miserable, but you decided that it was time for you to interject.  “You both look beautiful all the time, no matter what. Now, can we get back to making me look beautiful, or are you two gonna go makeout in the other room?”

They looked at each other and both raised an eyebrow.

“No!” You almost yelled at them. “You are not ruining your makeup until at least the After Prom.”

“Fine, fine,” Sarah mock sighed. She smiled and kissed Katherine lightly on the cheek before coming back over to you. “You look beautiful too, miss. Even with your hair half done.” “Why, thank you, my lady,” you faked an accent and did your best to bow from your spot in the chair.

“Any time, ma’am,” Sarah faked the same accent and curtsied at you.

“You guys are ridiculous.” Katherine shook her head from the other side of the room. “Now, hurry up. Everyone else should be here in half an hour.”

Katherine’s house was chosen as the spot to take pictures for two reasons. The first was that she had a beautiful backyard that contained a small flower garden with an archway covered in vines and a small gazebo. The second reason was that she had the best staircase anyone could ask for to take cliche prom pictures on. One of the best pictures of the night was of Race falling off the banister onto Albert after he had attempted to slide down it.

Katherine was trying to organize everyone together to get a good group photo, but almost no one was cooperating, so you sat on a small bench in the corner of the room, waiting for your turn to join. There was a purring cat on your lap, so you were pretty content with the situation for now.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Smalls approaching you. She had opted to wear a suit instead of a dress. It was more form fitting than any of the guys’ tuxes were, and she looked amazing in it. She wore a black velvet suit jacket with a dark red bow-tie, and you noticed earlier that Davey wore a suit jacket that matched the color of her tie.

“Smalls,” you started as she sat next to you, “you look absolutely amazing.”

She let a small smile cross her face. “You look beautiful.” She glanced down at the cat in your lap. “You look like you’re covered in hair.” She grimaced a bit, looking down at her suit jacket. Cat hair stuck to velvet like it was velcro.

You laughed at the expression on her face. “It’s fine. I’ve got like 3 lint rollers to pass around. I’ll get all this hair off in a few moments. It’s just nice having a cat right now. Nellie’s good at cheering people up.”

“You need cheering up?” Smalls asked.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” you said, letting out a sigh. “I’ve been in a weird mood today. I’m probably just tired.” You moved your hand to scratch Nellie on the chin, her purring getting louder.

Smalls smiled at the cat, and then looked back at you. “Has Davey talked to you today at all?”

You tilted your head in her direction. “No, not really I suppose. We said hi earlier and took a few pictures together in the garden, but that was about it. We didn’t really talk about anything specific.”

“Oh,” was all she said.

“Should he have?” you asked.

“I’m not sure. He mentioned you when he was on the phone earlier, so I just thought maybe, but I don’t know.”

You thought about her words for a moment. You couldn’t really think of anything to say about that.

Smalls placed a hand on your knee. “I hope you feel better. You deserve to enjoy tonight.”

“Thanks,” you said, smiling slightly at her. You looked down at your dress, the blue fabric now covered slightly in grey hair. “I suppose it’s time to get this hair off.”

You gently pushed Nellie off your lap, then reached down and got a lint roller from the floor beside you. You handed it to Smalls first so she could get the few hairs off of her jacket. She thanked you and then walked back towards the bigger group.

Katherine was still trying to position everyone for the photo. Sarah was standing on the staircase next to Crutchie and Jack. At some point in time Crutchie and Jack had decided that they were going to match what Katherine and Sarah were doing with their outfits. Jack wore an all black suit with a bow tie to match Katherine, and Crutchie wore a white suit with a black tie to match Sarah. Sarah’s dress was simple and white, but it had pockets, and that was the most Sarah thing she could get in a dress. Sarah and Katherine stood out in different ways in their dresses, but they both looked beautiful and like they belonged together.

You finished getting the cat hair off your dress just as you heard Katherine call your name. “Stand behind Jack, next to Elmer.” You nodded and made your way up the stairs.

You didn’t really have a date tonight. A lot of your friends didn’t have dates tonight. Instead, it was decided that the ones who didn’t have dates would draw a name at random, and that would be who you’d be matching your outfit colors to. You had drawn Elmer. He went with a pretty simple black tux, his tie and pocket square matching the blue of your dress perfectly. He looked nice in it, and you complimented him again as he stood next to you on the staircase.

Davey and Smalls stood at the bottom of the staircase. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Davey put a hand on the small of her back to steady her as she accidently stepped into the stair behind her. You leaned down to talk to Jack.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you whispered.

“Yeah, sure.” He turned to slightly face you, his face quizzical.

You glanced over at Davey again. “Davey and Smalls.. are they.. more than friends?”

Jack looked down at them now. Davey had his hand on her shoulder, and she was laughing at something someone had said. “You know, I really don’t know. He hasn’t said much about it. All I know is that she asked him to be her date tonight.”

You stood up straighter. “She asked him? I thought it was the other way.”

“No, she came up to him in study hall one day, and they started whispering about something. When she got up to leave she said ‘So, prom?’ and he said ‘yeah’ and that was that. I haven’t heard anything about them dating, but he doesn’t talk much about his dating life. Why do you ask? You’re not jealous, are you?” Jack leaned in closer to you, a smirk on his face.

You could feel your cheeks starting to burn, but you tried your best to play it off by hitting him on the shoulder. “Why would I ever be jealous of Davey and Smalls? They’re cute together. I’m just wondering. We’re two of his closest friends, and he hasn’t said anything about it to either of us. Smalls talked to me just a bit ago, and she didn’t say anything either.”

You were pulled away from your conversation by Katherine yelling at everyone to not move as she handed her camera to her mom. She got in her place next to Sarah on the staircase.

You tried your best to smile through the photos, but your eyes kept switching over to Davey. He looked genuinely happy; happier than you had seen him in a while. At that moment, you decided you’d try your best to let it go, Davey was happy, and that was what mattered. You could get over whatever feelings you had inside. You could be happy because he was happy.

The rest of the of the night was spent purposefully avoiding Davey. After pictures he had tried to come up to talk to you, but you made up an excuse about Sarah needing your help with something. You had a feeling that talking to Davey wouldn’t help what you felt inside.

You sat at a table to the side of the banquet hall, watching as your friends danced with each other. They all looked like they were having the best night of their lives, and here you were, sitting alone. You spotted Davey and Smalls, who were standing at the side of the dance floor. She was pointing at a group of people that you didn’t quite recognize fully. Maybe one girl in the group looked slightly familiar. Someone Smalls knew separate from your friend group. Davey was leaning down so she could talk in his ear over the loud music.

You figured you had already had all the fun you’d be having during the night. You had danced with Sarah and Katherine, Jack and Crutchie, Elmer, and anyone else who was around you. Race tried to dance with you, but really it was just him flailing around you. He picked you up and spun you in a circle, but he moved too fast and for too long. That led to you getting dizzy, which led to you sitting alone.

You picked up your phone to look at the time. It was getting close to 9pm, and you didn’t really feel up to going to the After Prom. You texted Katherine that you weren’t feeling good, and you were going to take the subway home. It occurred to you that maybe you should text Davey to tell him that you were leaving. He worried too much over the smallest things. You didn’t want him to freak out over not knowing where you were.

Hey, I know we haven’t really talked much tonight, and I’m sorry about that. But I just wanted to tell you that I’m heading home. My head hurts, and I’m not having much fun anymore. Have a good time with Smalls.

You looked one more time at your group of friends. A few of them had scattered, whether off into couples, or with other friends that you didn’t know too well. Smalls and Davey had joined the group she was pointing to earlier. You snuck out one of the side doors, careful not to run into any of the chaperones.

Walking to the subway station, you knew you weren’t going home yet. Being alone at home would be even worse than sitting alone at the dance. No matter where you went tonight you’d be alone, but there was one place that wouldn’t make it feel so miserable.

Washington Square Park had somehow over the years became an almost sacred spot for you and Davey. You weren’t really sure how it happened, but somehow this is where you ended up anytime you needed a good place to think or needed fresh air. The restaurant that Davey took you to when your first boyfriend broke up with you was across the street. When Les ran away one evening, you found him in this park. When you almost had a breakdown one night after studying nonstop for college entrance exams, Davey walked with you around the whole park, just listening to everything you were stressed about. When Davey called you crying one night a few years ago, you ended up on a bench in the park with his head on your shoulder, tears still falling down his face.

Sitting on that same bench, you played with the fabric of your dress. It really was a wonderful blue color. You had chosen it because of Davey. It reminded you of his favorite button up shirt, and you were sure the colors would match perfectly if you held them up side by side. You thought back on what he was wearing tonight. For the first time in a long while, you hadn’t noticed him wearing any blue. You couldn’t really tell what you thought about this, it was just a weird thing; Davey not wearing blue.

You tried to resist the urge to pick up your phone, but it had buzzed a few times on the ride here, and then it buzzed a couple more. You had to see who it was.

Katherine. Hey, I hope you feel better soon. Get some rest.

I’m also sorry you had to leave so soon into this great night.

We’re having less fun now that you’re not here.

We’re all worried about you. We love you!!!

You answered back quickly. Don’t worry Kath. I’m feeling better already. Have as much fun as you want. I love you all too.

You sat in silence for just a minute when you got a text from Davey. Hey, I really wanted to talk to you tonight. I got all caught up doing stuff for Smalls, and then all of a sudden you were gone. Do you mind if I come over so we can still talk?

You answered back. Can it wait until tomorrow? I just really want to go to bed rn.

All he answered back was Yeah sure. See you tomorrow.

You don’t really know how long you sat there after that. You had turned your phone on silent, and had decided to just watch the people who were in the park at this time of night. A few of them gave you weird looks for being in a prom dress in the middle of a park this late at night, but you chose to ignore them. One little girl stared at you in awe as she tugged on her mom’s shirt. You politely smiled at her and waved. She waved back enthusiastically as her mom dragged her in the other direction.

You were looking at a couple a few benches down when someone sat next to you. You turned to ask them if they could sit somewhere else, but those words never made it out. “Davey?”

“Hey,” he said shyly.

“Hey,” you said back. “How’d you know that I was here?”

“I checked your location on my phone. Did you forget that we share locations?”

“Yeah, kinda,” you admitted. You and Davey had your locations shared with each other since it was first available on your phones. It was in part a safety thing, incase anything ever happened to either of you, and also just because you trusted each other enough to do it.

Davey went to grab your hand, but pulled back right when his fingers touched yours. He folded his hands together in his lap. “I was worried about you, because you usually wouldn’t just leave like that, and then when you said you wanted to wait to talk. You’ve never said a talk needed to wait before. It got me really worried, so I checked your location. When it said you were here, I knew something had to be wrong. So what’s bothering you?”

“It’s nothing, Davey. I just, I don’t know. I’ve felt miserable all day. And then you and Smalls. It made me feel worse.” You avoided eye contact with him, instead focusing on the ring you were twisting around your finger.  

“Me and Smalls?”

You let out a sigh. “Yeah, you and Smalls. I don’t know what’s going on between you, and that’s what bothers me most. Jack doesn’t know either. We’re you’re best friends, Davey, and you haven’t told either of us what’s going on between you two.” You paused to take a breathe, half expecting Davey to interject here. When he didn’t, you continued. “I miss you, Davey. We haven’t been hanging out as much lately, and I miss you so much. Watching how you interacted with Smalls today, it made me jealous.”

“Jealous?” he finally questioned.

Your cheeks blushed a bit. You knew this would happen. You knew that if you talked to Davey, everything that you were feeling inside would come streaming out. Now it was happening, and you couldn’t stop it. “I just want to know, are you two together? Like, dating together? If you say yes, I’ll move on and get over it, or at least I’ll try my best to.”

“Dating Smalls?”

“Davey!” you practically shouted in frustration as you stood up from your bench. A few looks from strangers were thrown your way, but you didn’t even notice. You walked a few steps forward before turning around and facing him again. “Just answer my question, please.”

“No, we’re not dating.” He stood up and walked towards you.

“Then why have you been keeping what’s going on between you two so secretive?”

“She asked me to help her make a girl she likes jealous. She asked me to keep the plan a secret. You know how some of our friends are with secrets.” You did know. You had told Race one time in middle school that you had a crush on a new kid in school, and by lunch every one of your friends knew about it. “It worked too. When I left, they were slow dancing together.”

You stood there in shock for a moment. After a while, you were able to get your mind slightly wrapped around what he had just said. “So, she asked you to prom to try to make a girl jealous that she was going with someone else? That’s it? Nothing else?”

“Nothing else between us. I was just helping a friend.”

“Then why have you been so distant?”

“Cuz every time I was around you, I felt guilty about not telling you the truth about it. I thought that distancing us for a bit would make it easier, but now I see that it really just made it worse. I should’ve just told you. I know you can keep a secret. I should’ve told you, and we wouldn’t be here right now.”

You took his hand in yours, pulling him to sit back down on the bench. “The plan worked in two directions, I guess,” you said. “It made Smalls’ girl jealous enough to admit feelings, and here I am. It made me jealous enough to ruin my entire night.”

“The night’s not over yet,” he squeezed your hand gently. “I still have something to talk to you about.”

You looked up at Davey, really looked at him for the first time since he sat next to you in the park. His eyes were soft, reflections of the distant lamp lights dancing in them. His hair was damp, you assumed from sweat, and stuck to his forehead slightly. His suit jacket and vest were unbuttoned, his tie loose around his neck. He looked like a mess, but he was still the most beautiful person you had ever seen.

“It’s about us,” Davey continued. A breath caught in your throat, your mind racing in different direction. “About how much I want to be with you.”

You could feel tears starting to form. You weren’t quite sure why, and you held them back as best you could. “Davey...”

Davey took both your hands into his. “I wanted to tell you tonight, but I wanted to wait until I knew Smalls got her girl. I didn’t want to ruin that plan just as it was about to finish. But then I got your text, and thought that I had ruined my plan for you. I wanted to tell you that I loved you as we slow danced. It sounds so stupid now that I say it out loud, but it seemed romantic, and you look absolutely beautiful in that dress and—“

You cut Davey off by saying the only thing you could think of in that moment. “You’re not wearing blue.”

“What?”

“You always wear something that’s blue, but tonight you’re wearing red. It’s odd, and I don’t know what to think about it. I chose the color of this dress because of you. It’s your favorite color, and I wanted you to like it, but you’re not even wearing blue.”

“I am.”

You looked at him again. “Where?”

“I’ve got socks on.” He pulled up his pant leg slightly to reveal blue socks, the same color as your dress. “I borrowed Elmer’s pocket square and went sock shopping. I wanted to match.” He blushed a bit as he pushed his pant leg down again.

“I love you too,” you breathed out, just barely above a whisper. You turned your head to look at him again. “That’s not a revelation. I’ve wanted to say that for years, but I can’t believe you found a way to wear blue for me.”

Davey smiled, and you felt like you could melt right there. “I’d do anything for you.” He pulled you to stand up again and took out his phone. He pressed a button, and music played softly through the speakers. “I still would like that slow dance.”

You agreed, resting your head on his chest as you swayed with him. You stayed like that for a couple songs, listening to his heart beat, Strangers passing by said nothing as you danced around them. You were the happiest you had been in a long time.

“Hey,” Davey said, causing you to look up at him. “I love you.”

You smiled at him. “I love you too.”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his cheeks turning a slight red color. Your heart skipped a beat as you thought about kissing Davey. You had thought about it before, but you never thought it would actually happen.

“I would love it if you did,” you replied.

He leaned down slowly, careful not to bump your noses together. When his lips met yours, his arms tightened around your lower back, pulling you closer. Your eyes widened slightly with surprise, before closing them as the kiss deepened. His lips were slightly chapped and rough against yours, but this was Davey, and you loved every second of it. The warmth that admitted from him was hotter than you had ever felt it before. He pulled away too soon so you could catch your breath. Both of your breathing was heavy as you stared at each other.

“We should do that more often,” you said, smiling at him.

He let out a small laugh. “I agree.” He kissed you lightly on the forehead. “How about tomorrow?”

“It’s a date.”

[camillemontespan]

a kingdom divided [part twelve: turn to gold]

Part Eleven if you want to catch up!

Chapter List here!

Previously... Camille told everyone who Madame de Montespan was, the group tried to work out why Bertrand was poisoned,  Drake and Camille made a plan for how to stay out of danger, Maxwell got paranoid about his voice and Leo wasn’t giving up in his pursuit of Olivia.

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @ifyouseekheart @moonlightgem7 @sirbeepsalot @dcbbw @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @tacohead13 

                *************************************************************

Camille woke up to the sound of scraping. Confused and bleary eyed, she padded down the hall towards the source of the noise and her eyes widened when she saw the scene before her.

Drake, on all fours, wearing a white vest and ripped blue jeans, a tool belt around his waist, sanding the floors of the nursery. 

Camille watched him hungrily as his muscles tensed and moved as he sanded the wood floor. He was panting slightly from the effort and a trickle of sweat ran down his arm. She felt the familiar warmth in her core as she continued to observe him. He hadn’t noticed her yet. 

After watching him for a  while, she cleared her throat and Drake jumped. He turned around and shot her a lazy grin. ‘Hey beautiful,’ he greeted her. ‘Hey handsome. Love the vest. Love the tool belt.’ Drake chuckled and stood up, abandoning his work. ‘I recognise that expression. Someone suddenly needing some attention?’

Camille blushed. She couldn’t stop her eyes from roaming his body. ‘No, no, don’t let me distract you from being on all fours..’ Drake smirked and Camille felt all gooey. He moved towards her and gently pushed her up against the wall, his fingers grazing her jawline. ‘How long were you watching?’

‘Two minutes or so..’ Drake’s hand slid down her negligee and slowly settled between her legs, pushing aside her underwear. He raised an eyebrow at her as his fingers tested. ‘You’ve gotten yourself very worked up already..’ he murmured, his brown eyes boring into hers. He bit his lip and Camille’s eyes flicked to his mouth. His fingers began to spiral and she closed her eyes, enjoying the attention. She let out a groan and Drake kissed her softly.  ‘Do you want me?’ he asked, his voice cracking. Camille nodded silently and Drake picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her through to their bedroom. 

He took his time for the next 30 minutes. Slipping her negligee up above her head and casting it to the floor, Drake settled Camille down onto the bed and as she sank into the silk pillows, she gasped as he kissed his way down her body, paying attention to her breasts, caressing them with his hands before his lips roamed down to her bump, until he travelled down to the space between her thighs where she so desperately wanted him.  

Camille gripped onto the pillows, her eyes closed, concentrating on the way his tongue circled and danced, turning her from blue to golden, and all the colours in between. 

When he was above her, naked, she studied his body. He was all broad shoulders and muscle. She reached out to guide him inside her, not that he needed the help at all, she just wanted to touch him. She sighed in contentment as he filled her and Drake brought her long legs up to his shoulders so he had a good view. All he could see was this glowing beauty beneath him, looking up at him with a mischievous smile on her face.  He moved against her and she cried out, begging him to go harder. He obeyed and as their bodies moved together, desperately now after such a gentle and slow beginning, everything around Drake faded into the background and he just focused on making Camille turn to gold. 

                        ******************************************************

Liam, Leo and Drake were sat in Liam’s study which was now becoming their usual meeting place to discuss trying to unite Cordonia. Drake was focusing more on Valtoria and preparing for his new family, but every once in a while, he would visit Liam and Leo to talk. Despite Leo abdicating because he didn’t want to be King, he actually had some interesting observations and ideas which Liam was keen to take on board. 

Sat in front of them was Sarah, the servant who had poured Bertrand’s poisoned wine. Liam believed her when she told him that she didn’t know the wine was poisoned and in exchange for being able to keep her job, Liam had asked her to be his eyes and ears in the palace. Since she had told him about the secret club named Le Club Citoyen Secret, consisting of both servants and nobles who wanted the monarchy overthrown, Sarah had been secretly listening to her peers and reporting back to the King. 

She hated to rat on her friends and colleagues, but she hoped that this loyalty to the King would push her higher up in the palace so she could perhaps be a lady’s maid, such as for Hana Lee, who stayed in the palace as she was a close friend to King Liam.  Hana was always kind to the servants, as was Duchess Camille who sadly lived in Valtoria, but Sarah hoped she could one day work for one of them. 

The King hadn’t told her she could be promoted but she wanted to ask him when the time was right. Right now, the time wasn’t right as Liam was discussing with his brother what the Duke of Ramsford has theorised about the club- that they were going to try poison the nobles who were closest to the king in order to make him vulnerable and leave him unprotected. 

Sarah hadn’t heard any such plan but she wouldn’t have put it past the club to do it. The things she had heard showed that they were serious in their cause. Liam studied her now and asked if she had heard any updates.  ‘Well, the ball you are throwing tomorrow night... I’ve heard whispers that they might try and strike then. But I don’t know how or who might be targeted, or even if they will do it. It might just be talk.’ Leo wrinkled his nose. ‘I would still be prepared, just in case.’ The King nodded, agreeing. 

Liam had decided to act as if he knew nothing about the club, while being on the lookout. He was a fair and kind king; he was not the kind of monarch to lock his people up and throw away the key, as Camille had told him Louis XIV had done when he discovered a poison plot against him in an ironic parallel. He had no idea what he would do if he caught any club member, but he decided he would cross that bridge when he came to it. His actions would be his legacy and he did not want to be remembered as a tyrant, but he also did not want to be remembered as weak. 

He had decided to hold a ball, for no reason that to act as if court was continuing as it always did.  ‘Liam, just to let you know, Camille and myself will be happy to attend the ball,’ Drake told him. ‘But, I hope you understand, we won’t be eating or drinking anything at court.  I can’t risk Camille being poisoned-’ Liam held up a hand. ‘Drake, you don’t need to explain. I get it. Camille is pregnant. I wouldn’t ask you both to put yourselves in danger, besides you are my closest friends.  I just appreciate you attending the ball.. I know that Camille is nervous to come back to court after what happened with the mob.’

Sarah watched them, her eyes widening. She loved listening to the king and his friends; she felt like she was allowed a glimpse into their inner circle, although she would obviously never be a part of it. It was a big deal the the king was even letting her sit in his study. But listening to Drake talk about his wife, the Duchess of Valtoria who was so fashionable and popular and actually nice - God, Sarah adored her, despite having never met her, only reading about her in magazines- Sarah realised that the nobles were human. They had fears and worries too.  Sarah felt sad that Camille felt nervous; she just wanted to give her a hug. She had been excitedly tracking Camille’s pregnancy since it was announced and she often gossiped with her servant friends about the name that could be chosen for the baby. To even be sitting in the same room as Drake Walker was enough to make Sarah starry eyed. 

‘Camille wants to be loyal,’ Drake told Liam. ‘She’s still nervous but she’s a brave woman, she’ll put on her Duchess hat and put aside her nerves.’ Liam smiled weakly. ‘I don’t deserve you both.’ ‘What about me?’ Leo asked, giving his brother a wink. Sarah blushed. Leo was all golden, with his skin and blonde hair and twinkling eyes. He glanced over to her and saw her face. He chuckled and helped himself to a glass of scotch.  ‘Meh, you’re not as good as Drake or Camille,’ Liam replied, smiling.  Leo let out a laugh. He was glad that despite him abdicating, Liam was still close with him. 

‘There will be no dinner at the ball,’ Liam said. ‘Just dancing. As long as Camille has water so she doesn’t collapse.’ ‘She already has a snack bag prepared. She’s obsessed with watermelon and cheese at the moment, the baby seems to love the stuff...’ Drake replied.  ‘Really? Watermelon and cheese? That’s it?’ Leo asked. Drake nodded. 

‘Get Camille to bring it with her and if she starts feeling tired, just go home. I don’t want her pushing herself when she should be resting,’ Liam instructed. ‘I appreciate you both attending though,’ he said quietly. ‘I need all the friends I have.’ 

                    ******************************************************

The following evening, the palace was decked out in its finest; candles burned, casting a glow in each corner, the chandeliers twinkled and the ballroom was set up with the usual string quartet. 

Bertrand and Maxwell checked in their coats. ‘I’ll go see which champagne is being served, if it’s Dom Perignon I’m happy - I need something that’s not red wine!’ Bertrand joked. He strode off in search of bubbles and Maxwell chuckled. He straightened his suit jacket, which made him look like a younger James Bond if he said so himself, and went to follow Bertrand.  Something grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.  ‘What the-’ ‘Shhh!’ It was Hana. Of course it was Hana.

She pulled him into a cupboard which was a tight squeeze. Hana’s hands roamed down his body, reaching for his belt. Maxwell felt his trousers tighten and he groaned as she kissed his neck. She smelled of vanilla.  Maxwell placed his hands under her thighs and lifted her up, taking care not to bang her head on the ceiling of the cupboard. Hana hadn’t picked the easiest place to move around in.

With his trousers around his ankles and his boxers down, Maxwell was ready. The only question that remained was if Hana was.

He slid his fingers inside her and she let out a groan. Oh, she was ready. Maxwell enjoyed playing with her a little longer, listening to her gasping and groaning his name. Her body involuntarily bucked against him, unable to keep control. 

‘I want you, Max,’ she whispered. Maxwell moved himself closer, deeper, and as he kissed her deeply, he felt her around him. Hana wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as he bucked his hips against hers. ‘Oh God...’ she groaned, biting his ear. Maxwell ramped up the pace, hitting her sweet spot repeatedly until he could feel her tightening around him and she was moaning louder. Thank God the music was already playing in the ballroom otherwise they would definitely been heard. 

Hana felt her body about to give out and surrendering to the pleasure, she let go. Maxwell was close behind her, his head falling into the crook of her shoulder. They stood there motionless, panting deeply, until Maxwell withdrew and helped Hana fix her dress, ever the gentleman.

They opened the cupboard door slowly, checking it was clear outside. Nobody was there. They exited the cupboard and quickly walked to where the bar was. As they walked, Maxwell shot a look at Hana. ‘You look beautiful, by the way,’ he told her honestly. Hana turned pink and tucked a lock of hair behind her hair. ‘Thanks, Max. You look like a young James Bond.’ Maxwell positively beamed.  ‘Two glasses of champagne please!’ he asked the bartender, raising a hand. Their drinks were poured and handed to them. Maxwell turned to Hana and toasted his glass against hers. ‘To a great evening!’ he announced. Hana grinned. ‘It’s already been off to a good start.’

                *************************************************************

Camille was out on the palace terrace, leaning against the railing and breathed in the air. It was getting close to summer now, she could smell it. The air was warm; she thought back to Drake’s idea that they go to Texas and imagined the air was just like this. Drake came out onto the terrace to join her. Camille looked over her bare shoulder to look at him from under her eyelashes; Drake’s breath caught as he took her in against the twilight sky.  She was wearing a bias cut gold silk dress, open at the back before gathering at the base of her spine. A string of pearls hung down, glimmering against her bare back. With her dark hair pulled up into a chignon, she looked regal and elegant.  ‘What are you doing out here by yourself?’ Drake asked, joining her at the railing. She smiled. ‘Just thinking about summer.’ Drake felt his heart tug. He really wanted them to go to Texas to escape the threat at court and prepare for the baby, but he understood why Camille wanted to stay for their friends.  She was so much braver than he was. 

Drake moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her body, resting his chin on her shoulder. His hands cupped her baby bump.  ‘What about Jasmine for a baby name?’ he suggested. Their kitchen was starting to be covered in post its full of baby names. Camille grinned. ‘That is a pretty name... we’ll add it to the post it collection.’ Drake suddenly voiced a thought. ‘Do you ever wish we could be a normal family? Like, none of this. No titles, no balls, no decorum, no power struggles... just a normal family?’  Camille sucked in a breath and replied so quietly, he had to lean in more to hear her. ‘All the time.’

                   ****************************************************************

Drake and Camille joined the rest of the ballroom to take part in the Cordonian Waltz. It was a seductive dance and Drake had loved it when she taught him the steps, back before they got married, back when he hadn’t admitted his feelings for her yet.  He had loved the opportunity to hold her close and smell her hair which smelled of coconut. Her hair still smelled of coconut.  As he twirled her round, she cast him a happy smile. Whenever they danced together, it was as if the rest of the world just melted away and it was only them on the dance floor. 

Maxwell was dancing with Hana, as he usually did whenever they were at balls together. Dancing together wouldn’t prompt suspicion and Maxwell was just happy he was able to spend time with her in public, rather than in secret.  He spun her round dramatically, deliberately abandoning the usual steps and Hana let out a laugh as she held onto his hands.  He brought her back into him and they danced close.  ‘So.. I thought we should plan our first date,’ Maxwell murmured, careful to speak quietly so nobody would hear. Hana blushed. ‘What do you have in mind?’ she asked. ‘I was thinking... crazy golf?’ Hana stopped dancing. ‘Crazy golf? What’s crazy golf?’ Maxwell stared at her, his eyes huge. It was as if someone had told him he was a terrible dancer; he looked horrified. ‘Hana Lee, have you never played crazy golf?’ ‘No....’

‘That settles it. We’re doing crazy golf!’ he said. ‘Oh my God, you’ll love it. It’s so fun.. it’s so...’ ‘Crazy?’ Hana asked, wincing. She had no idea what it was, hadn’t even heard of it. What did you do at crazy golf? What did you wear?  ‘No need to look so scared!’ Maxwell assured her. ‘It’ll be fun! I promise!’ Hana knew it would be fun because Maxwell made everything fun. She was just nervous because this date with Maxwell was going to be her first date ever.

                   *******************************************************

Liam danced with Kiara, who looked up at him with a flirty smile on her face. ‘This ball is magnifique, Your Majesty,’ Kiara told him.  ‘Thank you, Kiara. I’m glad you’re having a nice time.’ ‘Why wouldn’t I? I’m dancing with the King.’ Liam chuckled and twirled her around. When she was facing him again, she wrapped her arms around his neck, which was bold. Many would never have dared to touch the king like that. ‘You are such a talented dancer, Liam..’ she purred. ‘It makes me wonder what other talents you have.’ Liam blushed and tried to ignore the seductive tone of her voice. He liked Kiara and he thought she was pretty and intelligent,  but he wasn’t exactly into her. He had heard that she had acquired the nickname Kinky Kiara and he didn’t really want to see why. 

               ************************************************************

Olivia stood by the bar nursing a glass of champagne while she watched Liam. Actually, she was watching Liam and Kiara, dancing the waltz. Kiara had her best flirt face on.  Olivia felt sick at the sight of them. Why did she love someone who was unattainable? He wasn’t supposed to be; if anything, he should be the most attainable man she could get. He may be the King but he was also her childhood best friend. That had to mean more.  Downing her glass, she beckoned the bartender over and asked for a scotch on the rocks. She needed something stronger.  ‘Hey, trouble.’ Oh for God’s sake.  ‘Hello Leo. Fuck off, Leo,’  she replied. Leo smirked and asked the bartender for a glass of scotch.  ‘Ah, always the warm welcome, Liv! God, you love me.’ ‘I fucking don’t.’ ‘Such language is not becoming of a lady,’ Leo pretended to scold her.  Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘Liv, what’s wrong? I’m trying to be nice-’ ‘You’re trying to get in my pants and I keep telling you, it’s not going to happen.’

Leo took a deep gulp of his scotch. ‘Right. Let’s start over. Let’s just be friends.’ 

Olivia smirked. ‘We’re not friends.’

‘Liv, I swear, no more funny business. I withdraw my invitation for you to join me to share a bottle of scotch in my room. You’re just my little brother’s childhood friend. It’s fine. Let’s move on.’  Olivia looked at him, her eyebrow arched. ‘Wow. You’ve changed your tune.’ ‘Only because I actually want to be friends with you,’ he told her, ‘and I’m bored of you acting like I’m some.. some hoe.’ ‘You are a hoe.’ ‘I am not!’ he protested. ‘Wherever did you get that idea from?!’ Olivia looked up at the ceiling. ‘Hmm, let me think.’ She began to count on her fingers. ‘Kiara, Penelope, Madeleine, Emma, Chastity-’ ‘Heh. Chastity. Believe me, there was no belt on her,’ Leo interrupted, chuckling.

Olivia continued, ignoring him. ‘Serena, Ophelia, Anna, Princess Marina of Spain who visited that summer when you got caught together in the fountain, Katherine, Princess Clemence of France who you got caught with, trousers down, in the library, Adena, Lucy, the Japanese diplomat’s daughter Itsumi who begged to leave court because you showed her something awful- God knows what, maybe it was your tiny dick-’

Leo went to protest but Olivia kept going, reeling of names. ‘Rachel, Arianna, Anastasia, my maid Sophie who I had to fire because I caught you both in my bed... anyone else I’m missing?’

Leo stared at her, his mouth open like a fish. ‘I think that’s all the ones you know off... of course, I have been travelling so the list is more extensive now... how do you know who I’ve slept with?!’ Olivia smirked. ‘They all come crying to me afterwards, regretting everything they did with you.’ ‘Ah, but I sure gave them a good night. A good enough night to forget.’ Leo was well aware of his reputation at court for being the one who ‘made girls forget.’ Apparently, he was so good at what he did in bed,  he helped them forget any troubles they had. So, while these girls were crying to Olivia, telling her they hated themselves for getting involved with him, they couldn’t deny that he had given them the best night of their lives.

Olivia pushed away the thought. Leo sighed. ‘Anyway, as fun as this has been recounting my sexual history, I’m heading to my room.’ He raised his empty glass at her and placed it on the bar. He left the ballroom. 

Olivia held her head high and looked out at the dance floor. She could see Drake holding Camille close, whispering in her ear. They looked so happy and content despite their fears; Olivia wished, with a pang, that she had something like that. Someone to support her whenever things got tough. 

Tearing her eyes away from the couple, she spotted Maxwell and Hana ignoring the steps of the waltz and who were now improvising. Hana was doing the robot while Maxwell was finger gunning the other courtiers on the dance floor, raising his fingers up to his mouth, shaped like a gun and pretending to blow smoke away. Olivia rolled her eyes but still, a giggle escaped. They looked so free. 

Olivia looked out, finally, at Liam who was still dancing with Kiara. They were dancing the waltz properly, their bodies close. Liam looked down to say something to Kiara, who let out a tinkle of a laugh.  Ugh. Who laughs like that? What a fake. 

Olivia drank the last of her scotch. She managed to draw her eyes away from Liam, but not before wishing it was her who was dancing with him instead. She wished she didn’t love him. She sometimes wished she had never met him; she hated herself for being so pathetic and weak about a man. But he was never going to love her and she knew that. Despite trying to make him love her, despite her attempts to get him to see her as more than a friend, she knew he would never love her. 

Slamming her glass down, she swept away from the bar and out of the ballroom. Olivia walked with purpose, a scowl on her face so the servants passing would clear her a path - as they always did- and she stormed up the staircase.  She reached the fourth floor and found the door on the corner. She banged her fist against it.  ‘Liv?’ Leo stood before her, his eyes wide. His bow toe had been loosened around his neck and the top three buttons of his white shirt were undone.  ‘Can we still share that bottle of scotch?’ she asked bluntly. Leo blinked and shook away his surprise at seeing her at his door. ‘Of course, Liv. Come in.’

He stepped back to let her in and with her head high, she strode into his room and he shut the door behind them. 

[sserpicko]

Will ‘The Favourite‘ win the best picture Oscar?

Rather like last year’s surprise best picture nominee Phantom Thread, The Favourite presents us with familiar prestige, an ornate, Oscar-friendly chocolate box, with fillings one might think easy to predict. On the surface, it’s a tale of corseted conflict with a high-wattage cast, including previous Oscar winners Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone, yet, as with Paul Thomas Anderson’s deceptively devilish Daniel Day-Lewis drama, it boasts an unlikely puppet master.

In his third English-language feature, Greek film-maker Yorgos Lanthimos has seamlessly transported his pitch-black wit back to early 18th-century England to tell a story about a monarch that plays out with more similarities to Peter Greenaway than Merchant Ivory. There’s enough pettiness, cruelty, bawdiness and perversity to turn it into whatever the opposite of Academy catnip is, making its 10 nominations seem like a win already. The all-white cast and period setting might not present it as a particularly radical choice, but it remains an undeniably rebellious provocation and its inclusion during awards season has been a refreshing middle finger directed towards some of its stuffier competition.

As someone who has endured far more than his fair share of Oscar bait, films created almost solely with awards in mind, it’s a rare treat to see a contender as gloriously uncensored and unbridled as The Favourite: not only in its vicious vulgarity, but also in its brutal honesty about relationships. As in Lanthimos’s dystopian dating satire The Lobster and in the aforementioned Phantom Thread, there’s an unusual willingness to smash open preconceived notions of what love means, focusing instead on the grisly truth. Olivia Colman’s tragicomic, rabbit-loving, incompetent Queen Anne is torn between two schemers and, more specifically, between the love that she wants and the love that she needs; a clear-eyed distinction not many of us can always make. She’s plagued by tragedy, the effect of which is a crumbling psyche, and her desperate vulnerability requires constant coddling. But, simultaneously, it also requires a canny conduit in court.

Her longtime friend and sometime lover Sarah, played with flawless precision by Weisz, doesn’t always modulate the rough with the smooth effectively, erring toward the former a tad too often. Sarah’s newly arrived cousin-turned-servant Abigail, played with flawless English accent by Emma Stone, offsets this by assuming a much-craved delicacy, slithering her way into the queen’s affections by offering a nurturing alternative. The two fight for control and their deliciously nasty game is, at first, hysterical entertainment before mutating into something more quietly devastating.

While The Favourite has been rightly lauded for its uproarious comedy (it’s easily Lanthimos’s funniest film to date), there’s been less attention paid to this shattering poignancy. The script, by Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara, is dressed up with endlessly quotable barbs (if it doesn’t win best original screenplay, I’ll start kicking and I will not stop), but also a carefully layered sadness, haunting the tapestried background before seeping into centre stage with the film’s crushing final scene. There’s a humanity that was sorely missing from Lanthimos’s last, The Killing of a Sacred Deer, an effectively nasty but ultimately empty exercise in shock, and while many have mislabelled him as a misanthrope, his work here provides further proof that he’s far from it.

So many directors who have excelled in another language have stumbled or softened in English, from Oliver Hirschbiegel to Walter Salles to Wong Kar-wai, but Lanthimos’s voice remains undiluted. Together with cinematographer Robbie Ryan, whose work on the deeply underrated American Honey deserved far more glory, he gives The Favourite a unique aesthetic; despite the familiarity of the setting, it is shot entirely in natural light, evoking a time and a place and even a smell that’s too often glossed over in more prettified costume dramas. The talky script, so reliant on a specific form of line delivery, is matched with three exquisite, gutsy performances from Colman, Weisz and Stone – all also nominated yet all, sadly, unlikely to win.

Because when it comes to its Oscar chances, The Favourite is anything but, despite co-leading the pack with Roma, both snagging 10 nominations each. It’s just too crude and strange to impress a large enough portion of voters; yet for a film this deliriously defiant, it’s of arguably little relevance. When asked by the Guardian if she worried that the film’s considerable profanity might ruin its Oscar chances, Colman replied: “Who gives a fuck?” Well, quite.

Source: theguardian

by Benjamin Lee

[pickcpodcast]

06 Show Notes - Which “bad queen” least deserves her reputation?

Jezabel [one of the original Bad QueensTM]and Ahab Meeting Elijah in Naboth's Vineyard. Print by Sir Frank Dicksee (1853-1928). Look at that stink eye she’s giving!

We’d like to begin this week’s show notes with a quick book recommendation: Game of Queens by Sarah Gristwood, which is about the 16th century, a time period Gristwood calls “a century of women.” Can’t lie, she makes a convincing case and does a fantastic job weaving together the stories of the dozens of women who ruled Europe as regents and in their own right throughout the 16th century, including two women on this list--Mary Tudor and Mary Queen of Scots.

Here’s the WorldCat link so you can screw over Amazon and instead find it in a library near you~ https://www.worldcat.org/title/game-of-queens-the-women-who-made-sixteenth-century-europe/oclc/1016988674

Speaking of which, our answer choices this week are:

Isabella of France

Mary I of England

Mary, Queen of Scots

Marie Antoinette

If you’re wondering why we only included European queens in this episode, you won’t be surprised to learn that history is rife with “bad queen” stories (see above). There are too many to fit into a single episode, so we decided to start with Europe, which most people are familiar with, and work our way to other parts of the world. As of this episode’s posting, we have two other “bad monarch” episodes in the works, including one about Chinese empresses--so fear not, and stay tuned!

And of course, before going to the juicy tidbits below, don’t forget to check out the actual episode and answer our poll!

Our first extra fun fact: all these women are actually related!

Both Mary Tudor and Mary Stuart are direct descendants of Isabella, through her son Edward III, whose descendant Elizabeth of York married the first Tudor king, Henry VII (Mary Tudor’s grandfather and Mary Stuart’s great-grandfather).

Mary Stuart is the granddaughter of Henry VIII’s sister (and Mary Tudor’s aunt) Margaret Tudor, who married James IV, the King of Scotland.

Marie Antoinette is related to Mary Stuart by marriage, being a descendant of Mary’s sister-in-law Claude of Valois.

She is also related to Mary Tudor on Mary’s mother’s side; she’s a direct descendant of Mary’s first cousin, Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand I, the son of Mary’s aunt Juana “the Mad” of Castile--who was also a candidate for this episode!

Option A: Isabella of France (“the She-wolf”)

Reigned: 1308 (married to Edward II) – 1330 (removed from regency by her son Edward III)

Retour d'Isabelle de France en Angleterre (Isabella of France’s return to England). Grandes Chroniques de France, 1455-1460, illuminated by Jean Fouquet. Source

The older among you (or possibly the film buffs...maybe) may know Isabella as this chick:

But (1) she very much did not bang William Wallace, having been 12 when she first became Princess of Wales and 3 in the year she supposedly met Wallace in the movie (which....most probably did not happen at all, but that’s the least of the things wrong with Braveheart).

And (2) there’s so much more to her story! Although Braveheart does get right the fact that she was one gutsy chick who could absolutely go toe-to-toe with the “great” (and, in the case of her husband, not-so-great) men of her day.  

First of all, if you’re a fan of Jason Porath’s Rejected Princesses, Isabella is one of the features in his first book! You can find her entry here.

If you, like Lindsay, are a beleaguered university student drowning in academic papers, fear not! You can also learn more about Isabella’s life from these excellent documentaries:

She-Wolves told by Helen Castor, a series about early English queens. Episode 2: Isabella and Margaret https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ftgbUJ3ZLc&t=2s

Britain’s Bloodiest Dynasty told by Dan Jones, a series about the Plantagenet. Episode 3: Revenge https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYBZVSShBIE

We also have a quick correction from the episode: the Ignoring Isabella in Favor of Boyfriend Incident happened not at Edward and Isabella’s wedding (which happened in France), but at the coronation feast held when the couple returned and were crowned King and Queen of England. To the surprise of absolutely no one, Piers Gaveston was left in charge while Edward was off getting hitched, which was..... a choice.

If you want receipts on Edward being, as Lindsay put it, a “man-loving man,” may we direct your attention to these two articles, which look at what the sources of the time have to say about the whole sordid matter.

Other sources on Isabella:  [1]  [2]

Option B: Mary I of England (Mary Tudor AKA “Bloody Mary”)

Reigned: 1553 – 1558

Thomas Eworth, 1555-58, oil on panel. Source

Aside from Game of Queens, one of the major sources we used for Mary’s life is this BBC documentary (we told you, Sophie watches a LOT of them): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1eaMix9x4HE

The She-Wolves series also has an episode about the Tudor queens, including Mary: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxmRco4P0bk

If you want to take a peek at John Foxe’s body count for Mary’s reign, the text of his Book of Martyrs is available online (hint: Mary’s reign starts in Chapter/Book 10). Similarly, the text of John Knox’s The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women, you can also find that text online. We’re going to refrain from linking it here because we love our readers and don’t want them exposed to *too much* misogynistic brain rot.

If you like to consume your history through historical fiction, Sophie recommends you skip Philippa Gregory and instead go for Mary, Bloody Mary by Carolyn Meyer. More on the YA side of things, but still better. (CW for a lot of uses of the w-slur though.)

Other sources on Mary: [1]  [2]  [3]

Option C: Mary, Queen of Scots (Mary Stuart)

Reigned: 1542 (6 days old) – 1567 (forced to abdicate the throne) Executed: 1587

François Clouet, 1558-60, miniature. Source

The picture above has an interesting story attached to it, which is that it (allegedly) belonged to Elizabeth I, who apparently treasured it. The whole relationship between Mary and Elizabeth is really fascinating, and Gristwood’s book goes into the diplomatic shenanigans between England and Scotland during the time--including Elizabeth asking, on more than one occasion, about why she and Mary couldn’t just get married, for Pete’s sake.

One of the major reasons Mary made our list is in honor of the film Mary Queen of Scots, which came out not too long before we recorded this episode. We didn’t really have time to go into all of the things wrong with that movie (so much? denim????) and how it doesn’t at all reflect the IRL dynamic between Mary and Elizabeth--but thankfully we don’t have to, because the lovely ladies over at Frock Flicks already did a podcast episode about it! Go listen: http://www.frockflicks.com/podcast-mary-queen-of-scots-2018/

Smithsonian also has a great article about the film and the history behind it: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/true-story-mary-queen-scots-and-elizabeth-i-180970960/

For people who don’t give a fig about historical accuracy but also don’t care for excessive denim, a great series (read: trashy, hilarious, and entertaining in the extreme) to watch is Reign, which is less a portrayal of Mary’s story and more “CW drama vaguely associated with elements of Mary’s story.” One of the reasons I love it is because of Megan Follows, who plays Mary’s mother-in-law Catherine de’ Medici (who had an IRL reputation as Bitch Supreme and very nearly made this list). She’s utterly ridiculous and it’s a thing of beauty.

Historical fic recommendation: Mary, Queen of Scots: Queen Without a Country by Kathryn Lasky. Part of the Royal Diaries series for young readers, which are really much better than they get credit for.

Other sources on Mary (Queen of Scots): [1]  [2]  [3]

Option D: Marie Antoinette

Reigned: 1774 (her husband’s accession) - 1792 (overthrow of the French monarchy) Executed: 1793

Louise Elisabeth Vigee le Brun, oil on canvas, 1783. This iconic painting shows Marie Antoinette in one of her “shepherdess” costumes, known as the chemise a la reine. The gentrified informality of the painting managed to piss off absolutely everybody. Source

She’s known for having said “Let them eat cake,” but most historians agree that she did not, in fact, say this--she just took the fall for some other royal, who was quoted by Jean-Jaques Rousseau in a book he wrote when Marie was all of twelve years old.

Marie Antoinette is also known as the Queen of Fashion, someone who started and ended fashion trends at will and spent lavishly on gowns. This part is true, but fewer people know that she didn’t do it alone--she had the help of a hugely talented merchande de mode named Rose Bertin. Bertin is credited with many of the Queen’s most iconic looks, including the chemise a la reine above, which you can learn more about Episode 6 of Amber Burchart’s fashion history docuseries, A Stitch in Time.

An addition to something we mentioned in the episode: the one guy that Marie Antoinette may have cheated on her husband with (just maybe, and we’re not even sure about that) was a Swedish military officer named Hans Axel von Fersen, with whom she was close friends. This guy actually has a fascinating story in his own right, but the bit we care about is that he was one of the few people who stuck with Marie until the end, helping to organize her attempt to escape Paris.

Historical fic recommendation: Marie Antoinette: Princess of Versailles also by Kathryn Lasky. Lasky’s research is really very solid, and I think the book does a great job at showing how truly uncomfortable Marie was at the French court.